Sam said nothing.
For the first time, Sam leaned in toward her. But his face was still a mask. “When did you get married?”
Maya gulped her coffee and crossed and uncrossed her legs. She glanced at the neighboring table. The man reached out to the woman and tucked back a stray lock of hair that had come loose. She smiled at him. Maya cleared her throat. “I didn’t.”
Sam followed her gaze, and then quickly turned back to her, looking at her, for a moment, just as he used to all those years ago. Their eyes accidentally locked and the moment evaporated. He spoke slowly, as if yellow caution signs surrounded her. “Where’s her dad? Why can’t he help?”
Sweat beaded on her upper lip and forehead, and Maya fought the urge to wipe at it while still avoiding Sam’s eyes. “He’s not around.” She rallied and took the offensive. “Why else would I come to you, after all this time?”
Sam stared at her, biting his bottom lip and shaking his head. Maya tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and opened her mouth, prepared to beg him for help.
“This is not my area,” Sam said, his voice matter-of-fact. “Not to mention my fiancée would have a fit if she knew we were even talking.” He stood, pulled out his wallet and handed Maya a card. “Give this person a call. Mention my name. She’ll help you out.”
Maya looked up at him, her heart racing and speech failing her. What was happening?
“No, Sam, wait!”
He put on his coat.
Panic made her voice squeak. “An attorney implies that I need the charges dropped. Can’t we just get them never started?” Her stomach churned as Sam picked up his bag.
Sam shook his head. “No, Maya. Sorry.” He studied her face for a moment and Maya caught a glimpse of something warm in his melted-chocolate eyes. It was gone as fast as it came. He started out the door.
Maya was momentarily frozen in her chair. Sam was her only option. Samantha could not be arrested. She grabbed her phone and chased him outside. He was almost half a block away. The sun had set completely and the fall chill had turned bitter cold, but she barely noticed it as she ran to catch up to him.
“Sam! Wait!”
Miraculously, he did.
“Look,” Maya spoke quickly, lest he walk away. “I run the bakery. Well, it’s not so muchjusta bakery anymore, it’s—never mind, the point is that I don’t have—thefundsfor an attorney right now.”
“Maya, I’ll call her, give her a heads-up that you’ll be calling. I’ll ask her to waive—”
“No, wait.” Tears of desperation burned behind her eyes.Don’t cry. Don’t cry.“If they press charges, there’s a good chance she’ll have to go to juvie—”
“No, she won’t. This person is very good at—”
“No, Sam, you don’t get it!” Maya almost shouted at him as she fumbled with her phone. She was shivering and her phone wouldn’t respond immediately to her touch—it was taking forever to get what she wanted on the screen.
“I think I understand the law,” Sam said with exaggerated patience. “It’ll be fine.”
“Sam! Just stop talking and look!” She finally found the screen she wanted and shoved her phone in front of him. “This is Samantha. She turnedfifteen.InApril.”
Sam’s features slowly froze as he took in the picture. His eyes held an expression Maya had never seen and couldn’t define. Samantha’s eyes were a dazzling chocolate brown, and she had curly, chestnut-colored hair. Her skin, like Sam’s, was the color of a milky latte. Maya’s heart thumped as she watched him turn pale and meet her eyes.He knew.
But she still had to say it. “She’s yours, Sam. Samantha is our daughter.”
CHAPTER FOUR
SAM
Maryland, 1996
SAMHASTILYLIFTEDhimself out of the pool when he heard the doorbell and grabbed a towel to dry off. The DJ on the radio announced he’d be playing the song that had inspired the latest dance craze, the Macarena, and his little cousins cheered. He did a couple quick steps with them and was still laughing when he opened the door.
The towel slipped from his grip and fell to the ground.
She was standing in the unseasonably sweltering Maryland heat in full business attire, sweating, but subtly. Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked from him to the towel and back. She stared, not speaking, into his eyes. Sam’s heart raced.
