Could the light of day force her to rethink things? No.
After her last class let out for the day, she drove to Ava’s house, finding the black truck in the driveway. She knocked at the back door and Ava let her in with Remy clinging to her leg and Cal in her arms.
Smiling, she said, “Look, it’s Auntie Sam!” and passed Cal into Sam’s arms.
Returning the smile with a quieter one of her own, Sam tucked the baby up onto her shoulder and followed Ava through the mud room into the living room. Remy was walking like a little champ, though he still had a fist twisted up in his mama’s pant leg.
In the living room, Ava’s laptop was set up on the sofa and a Winnie-the-Pooh DVD was playing. Remy’s blocks and toy cars and bikes were strewn across the rug. Ava got her oldest seated and invested in the video again before she turned to Sam, hands on her hips, expression bright with unsaid things.
Sam braced herself for the question, but Ava said, “You want a Coke or something?”
“Uh…sure.”
“Ice?”
“Out of the can’s fine.”
But Ava didn’t move toward the kitchen. Her smile seemed to grow, until her dark eyes turned to crescents the way her brother’s did. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“That depends. Have you talked to Aidan today?”
“Briefly.”
Cal was starting to squirm – a much more restless baby than his brother had been – and Sam patted his back, bent her knees and rocked him gently. She met Ava’s smile with a serious expression. “I woke up this morning completely happy. And completely convinced I was making the dumbest decision of my life.”
Ava’s smile dimmed, expression turning thoughtful. “To be honest, I’d probably think less of you if you hadn’t felt that way.”
“Yeah. Well. I was also completely convinced thatdecisionwasn’t the right word. Aidan’s not something I candecide.”
A smaller, more sympathetic smile this time. “I know exactly what you mean. There are people in life who you choose to love, and it’s all very healthy, rational, and safe. And then there’s that person you’re addicted to. And you choose to make that kind of love healthy, rational, and safe. It’s more work…but it’s more worthwhile.”
“I don’t know that I’m ready to be a mom,” Sam said, quietly.
Ava tipped her head, considering, asked a serious question. “Will it be hard for you because it isn’t your flesh and blood?” Something in her voice suggested that she herself would have a hard time with it.
Sam cupped the back of Cal’s downy-soft head, his pale hair like fine-spun silk. She took a deep breath, inhaling the baby smell of him. “No,” she said, and in that moment knew it was true. “That won’t be hard.”
It was going to be a girl. A little precious girl with dark eyes that turned to crescents when she smiled and a headful of almost-black ringlet curls. Aidan’s girl. Aidan’s and…and hers.
~*~
He didn’t like the guy, but Aidan had to admit that Ian knew how to live comfortably. Or work, as it were. The office above the funeral home was sleek, masculine, and soothing. As he sat down in one of the plush leather chairs, Ian leaned across his massive desk for a crystal decanter full of something amber and two short glasses.
“Drink?” he asked.
“Definitely.”
It was smooth, whatever it was; it tasted expensive.
“How go the preparations?” Ian asked. His tone was calm, polite, and more relaxed than Aidan had heard it before. There was a certain air of ease between them now. A dispelling of the usual tension in the room. The common cause had given them a more equal footing, had made the differences less important.
“We found out where he’s being held, and my guy Fox thinks he knows the best way to get us in.”
Ian’s brows lifted in a show of mild interest, but there was nothing mild about the spark of his eyes. “Yes?”
Aidan grimaced. “That’s where I’ve got a problem.” He quickly outlined the idea of using female decoys. Carter had suggested recruiting Jazz, though his jaw had been tight with distaste at the suggestion. And that would leave Sam as the other pretend call girl. His own precious Sam, who loved him and taught Shakespeare to college kids, and who was willing to accept his baby.
“Hmm,” Ian murmured. “A dilemma.”
