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Almost a year into your relationship with Sammy, you still felt like you were in the honeymoon period. You’d had your struggles, of course, with conflicting work schedules and managing the every-changing custody schedule that Tammi seemed to throw around however she wanted with little concern for anyone else, but you were still as happy as you’d been the day he’d finally asked you out. More so, if you were honest, because every day you got to know him a little more, and each day you fell a little harder for him.
He had been reluctant at first to introduce you to Nate. Not only was he worried that meeting his son would make things too real and send you running for the hills, he was worried about the effect it could have on his boy. All of his parenting books said that consistency was key, especially for kids with divorces parents. Since Tammi was the way she was, he had to be steady enough for the both of them. His son would want for nothing while he was around. He would go out of his way to make sure that he was prioritized, covering things for him that Tammi should have gotten on her own, but claimed to not be able to afford, or to not have time to do, or to just not understand, like that was a good enough excuse to be a lousy parent.
She was always after him in some way or another, always wanting more. More child support, more time with Nate, more, more, more. Sammy knew he was being taken advantage of. After years of an unhappy marriage the scales finally fell from his eyes to see her as she was, a leech that would never be satisfied, who would use their son, his son, as a bargaining chip if she thought for even a moment it would help her get what she wanted. It would be one thing to bring you further into his life if he was a single parent without a crazy ex, but Tammi was like a blackhole, slowly siphoning off his energy, time, and money until nothing was left.
And so, Sammy waited to introduce you to Nate. Better safe than sorry, he had reasoned, explaining gently that he didn’t want his boy to get attached to you too soon if things weren’t going to work out. He had rushed on to add that he thought that they would work out, but you had shushed him, giving him a warm smile and assurance that you understood.
Once you finally did meet Nate, after a few months of dating, you were instantly smitten. The little guy was so much like his father that it was impossible not to fall for his charm. He pouted the same way Sammy did when he didn’t get what he wanted, chubby cheeks puffed up as he frowned, skin turning pinker to match his fiery red hair. He had the same quick temper too, though you weren’t sure how much you were projecting onto the almost-two-year-old.
Sammy did his best to pretend seeing you doting on his child so naturally didn’t wreck a part of him. After months of fighting with Tammi over every little thing, it felt like he could finally exhale, seeing with his own eyes that he wasn’t crazy, that it really could be that simple to be there for the little bundle of joy he was honored to have played even a small role in creating. Every day he came home to find you curled up reading on the couch in sweatpants, his little boy curled up on your lap and gripping onto the pages of your book like he could understand the words on them if he just gripped them tightly enough, something warmed in his chest, burrowing under his ribs and find a home next to his heart.
Once you’d met Nate, it wasn’t long until Tammi came barreling into your life with the same whirlwind nature she brought to everything. She’d thrown every insult in the book at you, not caring that you were in public where innocent onlookers could see. She had no shame shrieking in the precinct parking lot, and the tired look on Sammy’s face made you wonder how many times she’d put him through this. She went on about how you were a homewrecking tramp out to steal her baby, that you were after Sammy just for his money and a sick kink for uniforms, that you were nothing more than a floozy that could never replace her, despite the fact that she was the one who had stepped out on him. She was about 45 seconds into her tirade when Sammy saw red, almost crushing the disposable travel mug of coffee you’d brought him on your day off as his fists clenched, jaw setting so tight it hurt. He almost yelled back at her, not caring if she had a camera hidden on her, wanting nothing more than to give in and give her the fight she so desperately wanted, consequences be damned. He was furious, not just for himself, but for you. How dare she show up and hurl insults at you when you’d been more of a mother to Nate in the few months you’d known him that she had since she’d carried him?
It was only your hand on his arm that kept him from taking the bait. Instead of matching Tammi’s volume, spitting back at her all the things she’d done wrong, he reluctantly let you pull him back as she stepped closer, gritting his teeth and trying to let the roar of blood in his ears drown out the way she screamed, hurling insults and threats like they were nothing, although not after throwing a few phrases back at her.
“It’s not worth it,” you’d cautioned, trying to keep your voice hushed as you spoke by his ear, but having to raise your voice to be heard over her loud volume, only growing louder the longer she was ignored. “Come on, Sammy, let her go. It’s not worth ruining your day. Let’s just get out of here. Come on, baby.”
It took a few more moments to calm him enough to listen, a steadying hand standing on his tensed bicep, a small tether to remind him of what was important and all that he stood to lose if he lost his temper. Everytime you’d thought he had calmed enough, Tammi would throw another barb at him, something she knew would get a rise out of him, carefully pointed at every chink in his armor that he’d once been trusting enough to let her see.
“She doesn’t get to do that,” he fumed as you walked away, still holding onto him, half afraid he would turn back if you didn’t. You followed him as he pushed into the building, still mindful enough to hold the swinging door open for you to walk through before releasing it and continuing his angry walking. “She can’t just show up whenever she wants spouting her bullshit!”
“I know.”
“Eight months. We’ve been together eight fucking months and she questions you being around? After she fucked around behind my back and shacked up with that loser hippie in my house?” He huffed angrily, a hand running through his short cut curls as he paced.
“It’s fucking bullshit. What, it’s okay for her to be high around Nate, doing whatever crazy shit she does, but I can’t have him meet my girlfriend? He fucking lives with her and Victor!” He spat out the name like it was coated in acid. “They don’t even have jobs, but, oh no, I’m the bad guy for letting him be around an actual adult with a job and more than a handful of brain cells.” He huffed angrily, unable to stand still.
You let out a quiet laugh and his eyes snapped to you, confusion crinkling the corners of the narrowed eyes.
“Oh gee,” you said, voice dripping with sarcastic sweetness as you stepped closer, halting his pacing to wind your arms around his neck. He lamented the loss of movement, but let you hold him, muscles still twitching with unexpressed energy. “You really think I have more than a handful of braincells?”
Sammy scoffed, but you could hear the faint humor in it. Your fingers wound through the curls at the nape of his neck.
“A rock has more brain cells than them,” he said stubbornly, still not quite meeting your gaze, his hands starting to drift over your back, more feeling than holding, reminding himself you were still there. “Even if you put them together. A grain of sand could outsmart them.”
You only hummed, knowing he was speaking more for his benefit than yours.
“You shouldn’t have had to see that,” he said after a moment, his anger finally starting to quell into something more manageable. He looked guilty, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.
“See what?”
He sighed heavily, letting his forehead fall against your shoulder. His hold on you tightened, just enough to pull you to his chest, letting you feel more of his weight.
“All of it. Me losing my shit, fucking Tammi, getting yelled at like that, called all those names. It’s not fair to you.”
“I’ll decide what's fair on my own, thank you very much.” The warm breath of Sammy’s scoff burned your skin where his head was buried in your neck. “We’ve all got shit, baby. And it’s not like I didn’t know she existed. You didn’t just spawn Nate out of nowhere.”
That earned a weak chuckle, and you smiled despite yourself.
“I wish I did,” Sammy admitted, lifting his head just enough to press his forehead to yours. “Or that I’d waited for the right woman.”
Your skin burned with an electric tinge as Sammy pressed his lips to your temple in a gentle kiss, seemingly unaware of how the air stilled in your lungs. His hand slipped down your arm to hold your own when he stepped back, giving you a soft smile that made your knees weak and almost brought tears to your eyes.
How did I ever get so lucky?
He squeezed your hand, taking a step backwards and tugging you to follow him further into the building. When your legs started working again and you moved to follow, ignoring the way you almost stumbled, he gave you a wider smile.
“Let me make this up to you?” He looked hopeful, big brown eyes fixed on yours. “Come over tonight. I’ll cook, and we can watch one of those chick flicks you like.” His eyes dipped to the side, a cocky grin pulling at his lips that you knew meant trouble. “Or not watch.”
He expected a playful slap to the chest, a hushed scolding not to embarrass you even more than you’d already been in the precinct parking lot. He was surprised, and delighted, to find he was wrong.
You pulled him closer by your still intertwined hands, throwing your free arm behind his neck to tug him down and kiss him. It was urgent, like you were seeing each other for the first time after weeks, the type of kiss usually reserved for train stations and airports, not in the entryway of a police station, with a receptionist who made it a point not to look. And yet Sammy didn’t care. His hand found your jaw, gently holding you like you were made of glass. He was a little out of breath when you broke apart, still pressed up against his chest as you beamed up at him.
“I love you, Sammy Bryant. No make ups needed.”
He tucked a stray strand of hair caught in the wind behind your ear. He ducked his head, pressing another deliberate kiss to your temple.
“Love you more,” he whispered against your skin.
You spent even more time together after meeting Tammi, something you found some small vengeful satisfaction in. She hadn’t been able to scare you off afterall, and if anything, the brief glimpse into what Sammy’s life had been like for so many years made you fall for him even quicker. It took a certain type of man to be married to someone so self-centered and selfish, and still fight to keep things civil for his son.
Things fell together in a comfortable rhythm after that day. Casual dates checking out new Mexican restaurants near your place or Sammy’s, coffee brought to him during his shifts when you had the time. He made it a point to still visit you at the gas station where you worked, sometimes playing the supportive boyfriend that he was, and sometimes making a game out of it and pretending not to know you and attempting to woo you all over again. It was silly, but sweet, just like him, and gave you something to talk about during your movie marathons on your shared days off, curled up together on his couch, your head resting on his chest with an arm slung around you, cradling you to him even when you dozed off. He would let you snore gently until the credits finished rolling and the screen turned black. Only then would he wake you, gently shaking your shoulder and softly calling your name, rousing you just enough to understand he was moving you to bed when he tucked his arms under you and hoisted you into the airf.
After a few movie-nights-turned-sleepover, he’d led you to his bedroom with the promise of a surprise. You’d rolled your eyes at him, teasing him right up until he shushed you, giving your ass a pat before he left your side and opened his dresser.
He beamed proudly as you took in the sight of the two entire drawers that he’d cleared out for you.
“Now you don’t have to worry about the commute back to yours,” he’d said smugly, giving you the adorable crooked smile you could never resist, arms wrapping around you and hugging you sideways against his chest. You’d hummed in response, the warm feeling behind your ribs growing only stronger the longer you looked at the empty drawers, soon to be filled with your own socks and shirts and shorts, right at home next to Sammy’s.
You turned in his arms, standing up taller to meet him in a soft kiss. It was so much more than two drawers. It was everything.
“I think you just want me around more,” you’d noted, knowing he could see right through you to the ooey gooey feelings you had for him that you didn’t have the words to describe. His hands splayed across your back, keeping you close.
“Hmm, you just think?” he teased, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “Guess I’d better step up my game then. Can’t have you doubting that even for a second.”
When Nate’s babysitter called Sammy crying one Thursday morning, nearly giving him a heart attack three hours into his shift, you had been the first person he’d reached out to to help cover childcare.
“It’ll just be temporary,” he promised, phone pressed to his ear, ignoring the sideways glances Ben was giving him as he piloted them through the city. He should’ve considered himself lucky that it wasn’t another call from Tammi, screeching about something new she needed but couldn’t afford, or threatening to move out of state. “Her car got totaled, and she doesn’t have another way to get around until her insurance fixes it, but you don’t have to help the whole time. I can find someone else. I-I can figure this out.”
“Don’t even worry about it,” you’d said, throwing a few things into a bag before heading towards your front door. “These things happen. I’ll call in sick and we can figure something out for tomorrow. Is he going to be okay until I can get there? It’ll probably be a bit more than an hour with traffic being what it is, but I promise I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“Don’t rush,” Sammy insisted. “Nate’ll be fine, he’s with the neighbor for now. And no speeding, sweetheart, I don’t mean to be a dick, but I’m kinda fucked for childcare if you get into an accident too.”
Your laugh came out staticy through the phone.
“And because you love me, right?”
Sammy smiled despite himself, exhaling something close to a laugh.
“And because I love you.”
“Good.” He could hear your front door slam shut behind you, a faint jingle that must have been you juggling your keys with your phone in hand. “Don’t worry, Sammy, I won’t speed that much. You’re the only cop I want the attention of.”
He laughed, a bit more spirit back to it knowing you were on your way.
“You better not get pulled over,” he teased. “I don’t want to have to play bad cop.”
“Ooh, tell me more, Officer Bryant.”
Ben rolled his eyes at the overly flirtatious tone. They really needed to find a way to make phone calls more private. Or better yet, he needed a partner that spent less time on the phone dealing with his personal life. Just when he was about to interrupt, a wiseacre remark already forming on the tip of his tongue, you spoke again.
“Alright, sweetheart, I’d better get going. Traffic’s going to be a nightmare, and I doubt Ben wants to hear much more of this today.”
Sammy scoffed, giving his partner an amused look. “You should hear the things I have to listen to all day. They’re enough to really turn your ears red.”
Ben barked out a short laugh. “Alright,” he said, swatting at his partner with one hand, trying and failing to smack his phone out of his hand. “That’s enough of that. Tell the missus goodbye before I throw that thing out the window.”
You giggled over the phone line, and Sammy only smiled more. He’d never get sick of that sound.
“I’ll take that as my cue. Drive safe, fellas! Sammy, I’ll call you when I get there and Nate’s with me, okay?”
“Or just text!” Ben interrupted.
“Alright, sweetheart,” Sammy said, ignoring his partner and leaning further away to shield his phone from his outburst. “Thank you for dropping everything like this. I’ll make sure to make it up to you when I get home.”
Ben groaned. “Hang up the damn phone, Bryant. We’re supposed to be making the world a safer place, not having phone sex in the squad car.”
You tried to keep the laugh out of your voice when you spoke again.
“I’ll see you tonight. I love you.” You raised your voice for a moment, wanting to be overheard by the man beside your boyfriend. “Ben, you look after Sammy for me, alright? He’s a stubborn jackass, but he’s my stubborn jackass. I need him to come home to me.”
Ben spoke back, grinning despite his dramatic show of annoyance. “If you want him so bad, he can come home now, spare me the telenovela I’ve been hearing.”
You laughed again, the bright sound filling the patrol car used to only cursing, threats, or worse.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Sherman.”
The line had barely beeped as it disconnected before Ben was on his ass.
“Jesus, how do you get anything done?”
Sammy scoffed.
“Really man. How many times did you just say I love you? Ten?” His grin grew despite his teasing, happy to see his partner out of the trench his divorce had left him in. “Do you just sit around telling each other how much you love each other on your days off? Braid each other's hair?”
Sammy grinned, giving him a smug look. “You don’t wanna know what I do on my days off, Sherman. You can’t handle what I do on my days off.”
Ben scoffed. “Right. Okay. Keep telling yourself that, cupid.”
“Oh, what do you know about love? You’re still banging your way through the state of California. Call me when you sleep in the same place two nights in a row.”
As it turned out, babysitting Nate was not a one time thing. A week and a half into pretending to have the flu and ducking calls from your boss at the gas station, Sammy asked what you thought about making the situation permanent.
“Why not?” he’d asked, giving you an easy smile as he pulled you onto his lap. He leaned back against the couch, looking unfairly handsome with his tired eyes after a long shift. “You’re good with him. He loves you, I love you. The stability is good for him anyway, having the same authority figures.” His thumb swept across the exposed skin of your hip, hand tucked under the hem of your loose shirt. “I can just pay you instead of finding another sitter.” He grinned. “I’d rather my money go to you anyway,” he confessed.
“I don’t know, Sammy. Doesn’t that feel like a big step?” Your finger twirled through the curls at the base of his neck. You wished he could grow them out, but he had to stick to the dress code for work. “I mean, working for you? Taking care of your son?”
He hummed, frowning faintly as he thought. “Maybe,” he admitted, gaze dropping for a second. “But not a bad one. I mean, I would like it. But I get it if you’re not there yet.”
You shook your head. “That’s not it,” you promised, tipping his head up by the chin to meet his eyes. Soft hazel eyes looked up at you, lips slightly parted. “I want all of this, every part of life with you. I just don’t want you to regret it.”
He frowned, confusion furrowing his brows.
You sighed heavily, tucking your legs up onto the couch to settle more securely against him.
“If I work for you, it complicates our relationship,” you explained. “And it might make things harder with Tammi. If she tries to pull something again, I’m sure her you’re screwing the babysitter line might turn some heads.”
Sammy scowled. His warm hand ran up and down your leg, goosebumps raising from the contrast between his body heat and the cool air conditioned air.
“You wouldn’t be the babysitter,” he retorted. “You’d be my girlfriend, just getting something for your time.”
“I know.”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” he said cautiously, head lowered. “I know it’s a lot, the house, the kid, a divorced man.”
“It’s just the right amount,” you shot back. You leaned forward, peppering his face with kisses, squealing when he caught your wrists in his hand to hold you still and kiss you properly, grinning against your lips. When you parted, you nestled against him, resting your cheek on his shoulder to look up at him.
“I’ll take any amount of ex-wife drama if it means I get to keep you too.”
Something softened in his face, the teasing pull of his smile melting away and leaving only adoration in its place. His hand took yours, holding it up to press a ginger kiss to the inside of your wrist before settling it back on your lap and intertwining his fingers with yours.
“I’ll do it.”
His face lit up, a broad open-mouthed grin spreading across his freckled cheeks.
“Really?” He looked like he could barely believe it, and you couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss him again.
“Really,” you confirmed, matching his grin. “What the hell. I never liked my job at the gas station, and it might be nice to actually like my boss for once.”
Sammy laughed.
“You’ll get all sorts of special treatment,” he teased, eyes flicking down to your lips again. You hummed smugly.
“You’re not paying me full rate though,” you insisted, cupping his cheek and letting your thumb trace patterns across his freckled skin. He opened his mouth to respond, brow already creased and ready to protest, but you cut him off. “Call it the Sweetheart Discount.” You gave him a sweet smile, enjoying the faint pink that rose to his cheeks at the praise. “You can pay me what I made at my old job, but nothing more, alright? You need to save your money to fight Tammi and look after Nate.”
“You help me look after Nate,” he argued.
“Yeah, but it’s not the same. You’re his dad, Sammy. He needs you more than I do. I can look after myself, but he only has you.” You rolled your eyes. “And me. To a lesser extent.”
Finally, Sammy sighed in defeat. The sound was heavy, like it cost him something. “Fine.” He gave you a small smile. “But I’m going to call it layaway.” Your brow quirked up questioningly, and his smile only grew, looking at you so sweetly it made your chest ache. “For when you live with us,” he offered in explanation, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “That’s where we’re going, right? You moving in someday? You, me, the little man, all together? One happy family?”
You couldn’t find words to describe the sudden, almost painful pang of love you felt for him, so you settled for patting his chest softly, just over his heart. You leaned closer, giving him a slow, lingering kiss that you hoped explained how you felt better than your words did.
“Yeah,” you whispered, the warm feeling in your sternum only growing at the soft smile Sammy gave you. “One day, baby. We’ll have it all.”
The thrill of coming home and finding you in his kitchen, humming along to a silly song you’d put on for Nate’s benefit as you moved around the house like you already belonged in it never faded for Sammy. If anything, the desire to keep things that way grew stronger by the day.
Sammy set his keys on the table by the door, smiling as he toed off his boots and tucked them to the side on the mat you’d insisted every house needed to truly be considered a home, taking a moment to just stand in the entryway and breathe. He could hear soft socked footsteps padding around the kitchen, faint humming and singing under your breath, fading away for a few moments as you got distracted before picking up the tune again. He could smell something cooking, and his stomach growled loudly, giving him away.
“Sammy?” Your voice echoed slightly as it traveled down the hallway.
The smile was on his face before he could stop it.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” he called back. “It’s just me.”
He slipped his coat off of his shoulders, sliding it in its place in the hall closet before drifting towards the kitchen to seek you out.
The sight of you standing there, freshly showered with hair still dripping down onto a worn t-shirt, the collar darkening and spreading down your back as you tidied up his kitchen, did something to him. By the time you stopped humming and looked over your shoulder towards him, his eyes were a little wet, looking at you like he’d never seen a sight so beautiful. He realized then that that was his old Pearl Jam shirt, with little holes scattered through the fabric from lighter mishaps in his high school days and a splotch of yellow on the chest from painting Nate’s nursery. He was certain it had never looked better than it did now.
“You alright?” you asked hesitantly. Sammy was many things, but quiet was not usually one of them.
He only smiled in return, that crooked smile that tugged at your heartstrings.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this good,” he confessed, so earnest something in your gut twisted with unbearable fondness. He came closer when you held out a hand to him, accepting it without hesitation and drawing you nearer until you pressed against his chest, dipping his head to kiss your cheek, chuckling as you giggled from the scratch of his stubble, before resting his forehead against yours.
“Think you just about gave me a heart attack,” he murmured softly.
You bit your lip, trying to hide your small smile.
“Sammy,” you sighed bashfully, fingers dipping into the curls at the nape of his neck. His smile only widened, knowing you were going to put up a fight instead of accepting his praise.
“I ever tell you how beautiful you are?” Your head fell from his onto his shoulder, burying your neck into his neck, your hands trailing down to smooth over the skin exposed by his collar, but he was undeterred. “Really, I mean it,” he said over a soft chuckle, warm hands splayed across your back, gently caressing while holding you close. “How did I ever get so lucky?” His nose dipped into your hair, not caring that water clung to the tip of his nose. It was worth it to be close to you and smell the shampoo you’d bought to keep at his house.
Nate babbled from his high chair, clapping his hands together in the disjointed way that was becoming a little more purposeful every passing week.
You raised your head, looking over to the gleeful little boy with a fond smile.
“Are you jealous your daddy’s not giving you enough attention?” you cooed, ignoring the scoff Sammy let out and wiggling your fingers to the toddler in a small wave instead, giving him an exaggerated smile.
“He gets plenty of attention, at least while he’s here,” Sammy protested, giving your hips a final squeeze before releasing you and striding across the room to greet his son, a wide smile already on his face. He scooped Nate up, holding him in one strong arm as he talked to him. “Don’cha pal?” he said, bouncing up and down on his knees until his little boy was giggling, little laughs gurgling out of his mouth and sporting a grin that matched his father’s.
“He looks just like you,” you mused. You walked closer, pressing yourself against Sammy’s back and giving his shoulder a kiss, your arms wrapping around his waist and hugging him to you. “He’s going to be a great man someday too. How could he not be, with you as a father.”
Sammy swallowed with some effort, and you chose not to comment on it.
“How was work?” you asked instead. “You seemed a little heavy on your feet. Long day?”
He sighed, the full weight of his day leaving him a little through the sound. His hand smoothed over Nate’s back, holding his little bundle of joy a little more securely against him like someone might try to take him away.
“Isn’t it always?”
You frowned. You hated that, how the day stole so much of him and you had to fight to get him back. It was becoming easier the longer you knew him, rarely taking more than a gentle caress or a kiss to his temple while he held his son, but it still broke your heart. You slid your hands up his back to his shoulders, gingerly digging your thumbs into the tense muscles there and working soothing circles where you knew he needed it.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Another sigh left him, quieter than the last.
“No,” he said, his free hand taking one of yours and ceasing your massaging. His thumb ran over your knuckles before bringing it closer, softly kissing the inside of your wrist. “No, you have nothing to be sorry for.” He ducked his head, turning your hand to press his lips again to your knuckles. “You make it better.” His words were muffled by your skin.
“I have something else that might help,” you confessed, free hand petting his pretty auburn curls. He shot you a curious look, and you offered a sly smile in return. You withdrew your hand from his, giving Nate’s little hand a gentle shake.
“What do you say little guy? Do you want to show daddy what you made today?”
Nate bounced on his dad’s hips, little feet kicking frantically and saying yesyesyesyesyes like he wasn’t sure where the word ended and began again. He held his arms out to you, grabbing with his stubby fingers like he could summon his handiwork from thin air if he tried hard enough.
“Alright buddy.” You leaned in to scoop him out of his father’s arms, groaning at the weight he’d gained since you’d first met him. “Oof, you’re getting big, Nate. We’re going to have to take you shopping for cars before we know it.”
Sammy groaned as if the thought pained him, squeezing his eyes shut and giving his head a firm shake, anxiously running a hand through his hair. “Please don’t say that,” he pleaded, hazel eyes sad and pitiful when they reopened. It didn’t take much to make him emotional about the idea of his son growing up.
You paused just long enough to give him a soft apologetic smile, despite the little boy in your arms who squirmed to be put down.
“Alright, alright, hold your horses,” you whispered to Nate as you lowered him down. “It’s in your room where you left it. Want to go grab it to show daddy?”
Nate was barreling down the hall before you could even finish, laughing in a way you would describe as maniacal if you didn’t know any better.
Sammy sighed softly. “He is getting big.”
You nodded, humming wistfully as you stepped closer, curling your hands into the fabric of your boyfriend’s shirt and leaning your cheek against him. His arms wrapped around you without a thought, cradling you to his chest gently. For a few seconds you just breathed together, the tension of the day releasing as your hearts synched.
Your brief moment of quiet was soon interrupted by a shrill shriek of laughter, followed by thundering footsteps as Nate came barreling back up the hall, caution and coordination thrown to the wind in his haste. He narrowly avoided catching his shoulder on the doorway as he came stomping back into the dining room, a piece of construction paper held over his head like he’d been victorious in battle.
“Look!”
He shoved the paper up to his dad, beaming with unadulterated joy.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Sammy said, bending down to scoop up his son again. He always wanted to hold him more after a difficult shift. He adjusted his weight on his hip to hold the piece of paper in his free hand, careful of the edges that were already crumped from Nate gripping it too tightly. Sammy’s eyes prickled as he took in the black and white box surrounded by uncoordinated swirls of vibrant red and blue. A roughly shaped blob with what was clearly meant to be black boots, half the height of the almost-stick-figure, was next to it, a large smiley face drawn on under bright red hair.
“Oh, buddy.” Sammy’s voice caught in his throat, smiling wetly at his beautiful boy. “You did so well, Nate. This is beautiful! Is this me? Did you draw your old man?”
Nate beamed, nodding and pointing to the little figure of his dad, his finger landing on the shaky line of his smile.
“You!”
His breath caught in his throat.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, pressing a kiss to his boy’s temple.
“I think the hair is my favorite part,” you offered softly. Sammy looked up, all wet eyes and crooked grin, laughing despite himself.
“Yeah. He gave me his color.”
You stepped closer, leaning against his shoulder to look at the drawing he’d been so proud of.
“Because he wants to be like you.”
Sammy sniffled, adjusting Nate so his weight was more balanced on his hip. “Yeah.”
Your fingers combed through Sammy’s hair, darkened with age. “For the record I love yours just as much as his,” you stage whispered, making Nate giggle.
Sammy wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, careful not to dampen his new favorite piece of art with his tears. He set it down on the table before turning back to you with a soft look.
“I should be the one complimenting you.” His voice was still thicker around the edges, but his smile was sincere, almost shy. “I like your new look, by the way.” His hand ran along your back, settling just above the waistband of your shorts. “You have a little makeover today?”
You shifted on your feet, giving him a sweet smile.
“Nate and I might have gotten carried away today and forgotten to switch the laundry,” you admitted shyly. “Figured you wouldn’t mind me wearing your old workout shirt.”
You had noticed that about your Sammy. He loved the domesticity that had made its home in your relationship. Small things like your hairbands on his nightstand, or your face wash on his bathroom sink made him smile softer when he thought you weren’t looking. Taking care of Nate was even better in his mind. There was nothing that made more sense to him in the world, or got him choked up, than the woman he loved caring for his son as if he was her own.
His brow quirked up. “Oh, Nate did that?” he teased. He turned to the little boy in his arm, giving him a bounce where he rested on his hip and feigning a scolding tone. “Did you forget the laundry?” He had to fight back a smile when his son laughed, chubby fingers smacking at his dad’s face in his excitement. “What am I gonna do with you, little man? Can’t be sabotaging my pretty lady when she’s just trying to help. It’s not gentlemanly.” He shook his head seriously, holding one of Nate’s tiny hands in his own to keep from getting slapped again.
Something in you warmed at the sight, the domesticity of your boyfriend holding his little boy and teasing you. It felt right, like a dream you’d always had without fully realizing it, standing before you now in flesh and blood and ginger curls in two different shades.
“To be fair, it’s not all his fault,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically. Sammy’s easy smile only grew. “Technically I am the one that’s in charge. Or at least I’m supposed to be!” you chided, stepping closer to tickle Nate.
Sammy hummed. “You’ve met your match.”
You clicked your tongue, giving his shoulder a fond pat. “That I have. Now do me a favor and sit down. I’ll get you some dinner.”
After dinner had been eaten, you volunteered to wash the dishes. Sammy had protested, but you’d told him with a laugh that you got the easy job. You wished him luck in the form of a slightly smug kiss on the cheek before he slipped away to give Nate his bath and get the tired, cranky toddler to bed. You’d long finished scrubbing pots, deciding to gather the spare toys that were scattered about instead, by the time Sammy reappeared.
He blew out a deep breath, looking like a man returned from war as he settled against you, warm forehead resting on your shoulder and hands circling your waist. He groaned softly as you ran your hand over his cheek, the vibration traveling from his chest and through your back. He was still touchier than usual, you noted. Work must have been extra rough.
“That kid is part cyclone,” he murmured under his breath.
You only nodded. “That’s what he gets from Tammi.”
He barked out a short laugh. “As long as that’s all he gets from her,” he grouched. He lifted his head, chin resting on your shoulder, soft eyes traveling over your face. “He’s good, right?” You could hear the uncertainty under his words, the worry he didn’t want to sully the evening with.
You craned your neck awkwardly to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark with worry, lips pressed together in a flat line.
“Of course, sweetheart,” you soothed. “He’s great.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, trying to convince himself of it. “Of course. He’s the best.”
You offered a soft smile. “He really is. He’s his own person. Nothing like her. Except maybe in emotional maturity, but he’s still growing.”
Sammy laughed softly. “He’ll outgrow her by Christmas at this rate,” he said dryly. He stood fully, releasing you in favor of stretching his arms out. His brow furrowed when he noticed the way your eyes scanned around the room, a faint frown marring the face he found so beautiful.
“What is it?”
You sighed, fingers tapping on the back of a chair absentmindedly as you thought.
“My phone. I must have set it down somewhere and I don’t even know what room it’s in anymore.”
Sammy scoffed out a laugh, hand already going to his pocket to grab his phone.
“You’ve been here all day with no access to a phone? What if there was an emergency?” There was no real heat behind his words, but you shifted on your feet anyway, a bit embarrassed to have misplaced it. Sammy noticed, frowning as his brow furrowed, already stepping closer to wrap his free arm around you and pull you in for an awkward hug. His lips found your temple, smoothing away any worry lines that might have appeared.
“I’m just kidding, sweetheart,” he murmured, warm breath tickling your scalp. “I know you’d never let anything bad happen to him.”
You hummed, letting your head rest against his shoulder for a moment before pulling back to give him a sweet smile.
“I know,” you assured. “And I’d take him to the doctor if he got so much as a scratch. After calling you on the landline,” you added cheekily, giving him a quick peck on the lips. It was important that he knew Nate would always be safe with you, that you would never endanger him or put your needs above his. No matter what, Nate’s safety came first, even if you weren’t hopelessly in love with his father.
A faint dial sound came from Sammy’s phone when he hit call. You froze, ears perking up as you waited intently to hear the telltale ringing of a phone stuffed somewhere out of sight. You knew it must have wound up tucked into a blanket or somewhere equally as ridiculous, or you would have found it by now.
A muffled sound came from the living room. You dashed towards it, looking around to try to figure out which direction it came from before dropping onto the couch and digging through the cushions. You let out a triumphant sound when your fingers closed around the device, still vibrating and playing the ringtone you’d chosen specifically for Sammy. It was still ringing when Sammy joined you a moment later, leaning casually in the doorway.
“Find it?”
You nodded, grinning and holding up your phone proudly to show him.
“Yep! Thank you.”
He only smiled, about to remind you he didn’t need to be thanked, when he seemed to realize what song was playing. His smile flickered, confusion pulling at his handsome features.
“Is that Roxanne?”
You laughed, looking down at your phone, screen still showing the silly picture of him covered in globs of icing from Nate’s first birthday. It was one of two parties he’d had, one with his mom and one with his dad, after Tammi had refused to let Sammy see his son on his actual birthday. “Yeah,” you admitted, torn between embarrassment and pride at your bad joke.
His eyebrows raised. “Wanna tell me why your song for me is about prostitution?”
You laughed again, harder, finally declining the call and shoving your phone into your pocket so you could step closer and wind your arms around his neck. He kept his cautiously guarded look, waiting patiently for your explanation.
“Well it’s not because of that,” you all but giggled, kissing Sammy when he let out an unconvinced but amused hum. You smiled against his lips when his hands came to rest on your hips, holding you just a bit closer. You bit your lip as you pulled back, knowing he would find the joke just as ridiculous as you did. Beautiful hazel eyes searched yours, the fondness clear on his face, even with the skeptical look he was giving you, a small smile creasing the corners of his eyes.
You hummed, content as you settled closer, pressed against his chest.
“Who is the song by, my love?” you asked slowly. Sammy squinted, not thrilled by your slightly patronizing tone, but willing to play along. He hummed as he thought, gently rocking your whole body from side to side as he shifted on his feet. His eyes widened when the pieces came together, his shoulders deflating in obvious disappointment, even as he gave you a crooked grin that took up his whole face.
“Really?” he chided. “The Police? That’s the best I get?”
You laughed, nestling closer to his chest and squeezing his waist slightly as you peered up at him, looking too satisfied with yourself for his chest not to warm.
“Oh, you get a lot more than just that,” you pointed out, smirking up at him. Your hands drifted lower behind his back, one hand dropping enough to give his ass an appreciative squeeze.
“Okay, true,” he admitted, trying and failing to keep a laugh out of his voice. “But still, don’t they have any better songs? This makes me seem like a cheap whore.”
You clicked your tongue in feigned disapproval. “Nothing about you is cheap, baby.”
He exhaled sharply, stuck somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “That’s real comforting. Thank you.”
You pushed up on your tip toes to kiss him, his only half-meant complaints dying on his tongue, happily forgotten and replaced by the feel of you. He chased after you when you broke apart, both breathing a bit heavier.
“That’s so not fair,” he said softly, voice catching somewhere in his throat.
You only hummed. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, looking at him as innocently as you could muster under his darkened gaze.
He smiled, huffing out a short laugh.
“You just about killed me wearing my clothes. Now this? I could almost think you’re after my pension.”
You laughed. “The pension you’re not old enough to cash in on? Wow, what a great plotter I am.”
Sammy chuckled, but something in his eyes softened. “Maybe you’re playing the long con.” His thumb ran gently over your cheekbone.
A rush of warmth ran through you, but you frowned with purpose, giving a decisive shake of your head.
“Nah. I’m no good at secret keeping.” You pecked his cheek. “I’m just here for the long haul. No con needed.”
The hand on your hip tightened slightly, pulling you just an inch closer. Sammy’s breath came hot against your lips, your noses almost brushing.
“You can’t say stuff like that when you look this good.”
You rolled your eyes, tempted to pull away and give yourself to cool off from the intense look he was giving you, but you didn’t have the strength.
“I look a mess right now, Sammy.”
He looked offended on your behalf.
“You do not. You look…well, I probably shouldn’t say with Nate in the next room.” You could feel your face heating, but he didn’t stop. His hand slipped a few inches lower, playing with the hem of the oversized shirt you wore.
“You look better in this than I ever did.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
Sammy tsked, voice infuriatingly level for a man driving you to the brink of insanity. “Nope. You’re gonna believe it even if I have to carry you to bed right now and make you.” He ignored the flush of your cheeks, save for the proud glint in his eye. He wasn’t one to make idle threats. “It looks good on you. Matter of fact, the whole house looks good on you.”
The familiar thrum of excitement went through you that always did when he said things like that. He’d made comments like that before, but there was something different in the air between you now, a delicate vulnerability that made the air still in your lungs.
“Careful now,” you tried to joke, knowing it came out weak. “I might think you’re asking me something.”
He seemed to consider it for a moment, chewing on his button lip as he thought.
“What if I am?”
You stared at him for a moment, searching his face for any sign that he was joking.
“Really? You mean it?” you asked after a moment, voice coming out softer than you’d meant.
A smile flickered across his face, almost confused that you had to ask. “Yeah,” he said, matching your hushed tone. “I like having you here. So does Nate.” His thumb moved against your hip. “You make it feel like home.”
You laugh thickly, the noise getting caught somewhere in your throat. “You sure know how to choose a moment for important decisions.”
He shrugged, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “Anytime’s the right time with you.”
Your blush intensified.
“Okay.” The word came out quieter than you intended. You were almost surprised he could hear it at all.
His smile grew slightly, a humorous tilt to it. “Okay?” he repeated, eyes scrunching playfully.
You nodded, a slow grin spreading across your face. “Yeah,” you confirmed, leaning forward to kiss him. The press of his lips to yours was sweet but firm, a promise of a hundred more to come. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll move in with you.”
Sammy looked like something broke inside him in the best way.
“Really?” His voice caught, his smile trembling slightly, and you nodded again, kissing his face all over, determined not to miss a single freckle.
“Of course,” you spoke between kisses. “I love you. I love you so much.” You pulled back to look at him properly, cradling his face in both your hands, beaming at him while water collected at his waterline and threatened to drop down his cheeks. “I want to wake up with you every morning, Sammy. I want to have dinner with you every night. I want to be here to see Nate get bigger and go to school and see you cry because you’re so proud of him.”
Sammy choked on a laugh, his breathing turned shuddery.
“Why you gotta bring that up?” he choked out, still beaming as you laughed, unable to help from teasing him. His hands moved, strong arms snaking around you to close the small distance between you, burying his face in your neck and covering you with a flurry of kisses. He chuckled as you squirmed, pushing at his chest in vain to try to escape the tickling of his hot breath on your sensitive skin.
He hummed the tune of Roxanne as he gently swayed you back and forth in the living room, laughing at full volume every time you sang a lyric under your breath and pretending to be sorry when you’d playfully swat at his chest and remind him he had to be quiet.
“You’ll wake the baby,” you whispered dramatically, eyes darting to the wall as if Nate had developed superhuman hearing since being put to bed.
Sammy didn’t acknowledge the warm surge that went through him at your words, picturing them in another context a few years down the road. He chose instead to let the warmth sit in him, unspoken for now as he drew you closer, whispering an apology into your crown and smoothing back your hair to kiss your forehead, only to start up his humming again. Suddenly, he didn’t mind Roxanne being his ringtone, if it led to moments like this.