Page 131 of The Love You Fight For
He takes her hand between his and squeezes, looking right into her eyes.
“You are welcome here anytime, Sam. We’re happy you’re here.”
Fuck, the smile that stretches over her face. The way her eyes mist over. I want to pull her into a hug and never let go. Michael means it. He’s sincere, and I know she can tell. I’m so grateful for him in this moment because Sam’s shoulders relax for the first time since we got the invite to come over for brunch three days ago.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “Um, this is for you guys.”
She holds out a large gift bag full of diapers and onesies and baby board books, and Michael takes it with a smile. He thanks her and gives her one last smile before looking at me.
“Your dad isn’t here yet, but he’s on the way. Head in the kitchen and I’ll grab Chy.”
Michael heads up the stairs, and I lead Sam into the kitchen. The moment Tiffany sees us, she turns off whatever she’s cooking at the stove and rushes toward us, wrapping her arms around us both.
Sam freezes for a second, then she wraps her arms around my sister, and they hug. Sam sniffles, then my sister pulls away and swipes some of her own tears away. She smiles at me first, then looks at Sam.
“I’m sorry I haven’t had you over sooner,” Tiff says. “It’s not that I didn’t want you over?—”
“No, it’s okay.” Sam shakes her head. “I imagine it’s been pretty crazy with a new baby.”
Tiffany laughs and nods.
“It’s been a little crazy,” she confirms, then pulls Sam in for another hug. “But I’m glad you’re here now.”
I’ve only been over a few times since they finally brought the baby, Brock, home. Tiffany was recovering from the cesarean and Brockwas in the NICU for a week with unstable blood sugar. I kept the kids and the hamster for a few nights while Tiff and Michael were in the hospital, but Sam stayed at her apartment. She said she wanted to respect my sister, and I didn’t push.
Since Brock and Tiff have been home, I’ve swung by to drop off food and do a few loads of the kids’ laundry, but Tiffany and Michael are pros and have everything pretty much covered. They don’t need my help, but I give it anyway.
“Do you want to meet him?” Tiffany says, and I want to laugh at the mix of excitement and fear that passes over Sam’s face as she nods.
“Yes,” she says, and Tiff leads us to the swing where Brock is sleeping in the corner.
“He’s beautiful,” Sam whispers as she takes him in.
He’s a cute little thing. Kind of resembles an adorable old man with his bald head and chubby cheeks. He’s sleeping now, but I know he’s got these giant brown eyes and thick black eyelashes, and a set of lungs on him that don’t give out. I told Tiffany he might be an opera singer when he grows up.
“He loves this swing,” Tiffany explains. “Once he wakes up, you can hold him if you want. You can feed him, too.”
Sam’s eyes widen and she looks at Tiffany, then at me, then back at Brock.
“I’d like that,” she says.
Tiffany goes back to the stove. She’s making pancakes, a stack of them already sitting on a plate on the counter, and I can smell bacon wafting from the oven. I glance back at Sam. She’s still staring at theswinging, sleeping Brock. I take her hand in mine and give it a squeeze.
“Lennon’s baby is going to be here soon,” she whispers. “You think he’ll look like that?”
I tilt my head to the side and study Brock.
“I think Lennon and Macon’s baby is going to have a head full of unruly curls,” I say decidedly, and Sam laughs.
I feel a body step up to stand next to me, and I glance down at Cheyenne.
“Hey, Punk.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and glance down into the pocket of her shirt. Sure enough, her little fluffy hamster is curled up in there. “You’re breaking the rules again.”
She looks up at me with narrowed eyes.
“Don’t tattle,” she says, and Sam laughs.
Sam leans around me to glance at Cheyenne.
