Amy wondered what Sam had thought that night. Had he hoped for a relationship with her? Had he known it was only temporary? She’d be willing to bet they’d met at her brother’s bar. Finleys’ was a popular night spot, and when people from Heartache went into Nashville, they often stopped there since both Mack and the Finley name were well-known.
“The next morning,” Cynthia continued, “I freaked out about the divorce. I realized how much my husband and I were throwing away. We’d been having trouble conceiving,and it had put a tremendous strain on our marriage. But was that any reason to toss it all in the trash?” She looked to Amy, telling the story for her benefit and seeming to relive some of the emotions as she did.
And no wonder. It hadn’t happened all that long ago.
“So you tried to work it out with your husband?” she guessed as the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. She was beginning to understand why it had taken the woman months to let Sam know he was a father.
“Yes. We agreed to try again.” Even as the woman stared down at Aiden, Amy could see a tear on her pale cheek before she swiped it away. “And when I found out I was pregnant, there was a minute where I thought—I hoped—” She clamped her lips together, trying to hold back the rest. When she looked up again, her voice was stronger. “I kept right on hoping. All through the pregnancy I told myself that it was safer for the baby not to get a paternity test anyhow since I wouldn’t have wanted anything invasive no matter how minimal the risk.”
Amy’s heart ached for the emotional turmoil Cynthia must have gone through. True, none of this had been fair to Sam. But she certainly understood Cynthia’s dilemma. Especially if she’d already been under the strain of infertility and marriage problems. The struggle with depression might have started well before she’d given birth.
Those were battles that Amy understood after growing up with a bipolar mother. Sometimes the causes for an episode were wound up in things that happened weeks before a breakdown. Strange that it was easier to empathize with this total stranger than it was with her own mother.
“So you waited until after Aiden was born to get a paternity test.” Out of the corner of her eye, Amy saw Sam checking his phone.
Because there was news at work? Or to tune out of a conversation that aggravated him? She hoped for Aiden’s sake that Sam would make an effort to forgive Cynthia.
“Yes. I’d told my husband about Sam earlier in the pregnancy and he said he could forgive me—if the child proved to be his.” She readjusted the baby to her other arm as the feeding slowed down. “But when the results of the test came back...he moved out the next day.”
“Cynthia, I appreciate your being honest about what happened.” Sam interrupted before Amy could respond. He set his phone aside and filled an insulated travel cup with coffee from the machine. “I don’t mean to cut this short, but I have to take Aiden to my mother’s house before I go to work. We both agreed that Aiden couldn’t stay with you until you’re feeling more stable.”
“I understand.” The woman brushed a kiss along Aiden’s forehead. “I’m so happy I got to see him. Thank you, Sam.” She seemed to remember Amy was there, too. Looking up, she gave her a small smile. “Nice meeting you, Amy.”
“You, too.” She moved to take the baby from the other woman as Cynthia slid carefully out of the banquette seat. “Good luck with everything.”
“Thank you.” Her blue eyes darted over to Sam, but he didn’t echo the sentiment. “I appreciate it.”
Sam walked her to the door while Amy patted Aiden’s back and wiped a milky smile with the bib he wore. The infant stared up at her with blue eyes that probably wouldn’t stay blue—there was a gray-brown muddiness around the edges.
No matter the circumstances of his birth, at least his mother and father both seemed to appreciate that he was a beautiful gift. A tiny miracle.
One she’d been denied in that painful miscarriage.
And, oh yes, she could identify with how infertility might rip a woman’s heart apart. But she also saw it from the other side of how much it must have hurt Sam to lose those months of pregnancy. To miss ultrasounds and the birth, the precious first days, memories he would never have with his child. God, this was tearing her apart inside from all angles. She needed space. Fast.
“Amy?” Sam’s voice startled her. “You okay?”
She hadn’t heard him return. Hastily, she handed Aiden over to him, not getting too close.
“I’m sorry.” Sniffling, she realized she’d been close to tears just thinking about the baby she’d lost. “I really do have to get going.”
“I could drive you home.” He reached for her, stroking a hand along her hair as she shuffled back another step.
“That’s okay. I’ve got so much to do. I’m going to fall behind.” She found her purse where she’d dropped it the night before.
She’d been ready to deal with the morning-after feelings she might have for Sam. She hadn’t been at all ready to face morning-after feelings about his complicated new role as a father.
Or his adorable son.
“I’ll call you later.” He gestured to the coffee mug on the counter. “You want a cup to go?”
“No, thank you.” Not wanting to end the visit on an awkward note, she stepped closer. Kissed his cheek. “I don’t mean to rush out.”
“Cynthia’s story is a lot to take in.” It was the least adversarial comment he’d made about her yet.
Still, Amy wondered if they could work out a future together. Didn’t they deserve a chance to at least try? Samhad said in no uncertain terms that no one could take a mother’s place. His loss of his own mom had devastated him. He wouldn’t let the same thing happen to his son. Maybe, with a little more time to forgive Cynthia for keeping Aiden a secret, Sam would be ready to reconsider a future for the three of them—Cynthia, Aiden and Sam. A family.
Even thinking about it hurt.
