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Chapter 30
Sam lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling. She hadn’t quite recovered from the tender way John had given her a bath and then just left her. She knew he was doing what she’d asked, but she felt abandoned again. The next step had to be hers, but she still didn’t feel confident enough to trust him. She was also afraid that if she let him stay, she’d cave under his pressure and relent under his kisses. At the same time, she was tired of living half a life, and without him, it was exactly that. And to be completely honest, she wanted to go home. To Ashbury Manor.
She hadn’t realized how in two short months she’d started thinking of Ashbury Manor as her home. The thought took her aback. She had her friend Linda, her tiny, beautiful garden, and her precious, peaceful walking paths. Yes, she’d started thinking of Ashbury Manor as her own. She felt safe there, at home. Even more than she did here, in her childhood home, the one she’d grown up in.
Ashbury was different. It was hers. The home she’d helped renovate from the ground up. The friendships she’d forged through hard work, dedication, and much effort. The bedroom she’d shared with her husband.
She sat up in bed. Would she ever learn how to fall asleep with a restless head? A glass of warm milk would help her feel better and fall right back to sleep, she was certain. She threw on a dressing gown and walked to the door.
She paused, wondering if she should get a candle, but decided against it. Sam opened the door, took a step, and nearly tumbled as she tripped over her husband. She shrieked but was able to right herself at the same time John caught her by her waist.
“Ugh, sorry. In hindsight, I should have moved out of the way and just slept by the wall.” He rubbed his eyes and settled with his back propped against the wall.
“Or you could have slept in one of the guest rooms,” she pointed out.
“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to sleep away from you.”
Warmth uncurled inside her chest. With a sigh, she seated herself on the floor next to John.
“The floor is cold, you shouldn’t sit here,” he said.
“Then you shouldn’t be sleeping here.”
“Sam…” Her name was more of a sigh. “I wish you would listen to me when I have concerns about your wellbeing. But I’ve learned the hard way that I can’t make you do anything.”
Sam nodded. “That’s right, you can’t.”
“Then I’ll have to alter my approach.” With these words, John scooped her up and carried her back to her room.
“John!” Sam tried to wriggle out of his hold but he held her tight until he reached her bed and deposited her on top.
“This is how it is going to be, Wife. Take it or leave it. In the matter of your safety and wellbeing, I am not going to give you an inch.”
Sam’s mouth dropped open. “Is that supposed to be your apology?”
John settled on the bed next to her and took her hand in his, his expression pained. “It is, my dear, because if you won’t heed me on this, I shall never let myself come close to you ever again.”
“John—” Sam started slowly. John’s eyes were hard but also filled with sorrow. At that moment, she wanted to drop everything, hug him, and never let him go.
“No, Sam. There is no way around this. I know you will forgive me. I can see it in your eyes. You are already contemplating going back home with me. You are so soft and kind, even when you shouldn’t be. You will forgive me whether I ask for forgiveness or not, but that won’t mean much, because I shan’t ever forgive myself!”
Sam covered his hand with hers. “Hurting me in your sleep”—she swallowed—“it wasn’t your fault.”
John laughed bitterly. “Yes, it was, Sam. And you should expect better of me. You deserve better.” He squeezed her thigh.
Sam closed her eyes, trying to keep her tumultuous emotions at bay.
“John,” she finally said. “I am not upset with you for hurting me.” John made a sound between laughter and a scoff. “I am upset because you left me there, sick and hurting. And that on top of just confirming that I am indeed with child. You didn’t even say goodbye. Or leave a note. You just left!”
“And that’s what I should have done from the start!” John stood and started pacing the room.
“What?” Sam scrambled from the bed and stood there, hugging herself.
“Before we got married, I warned you about all this. That I have my mood swings, that I cannot sleep with anyone in my bed, that I am emotionally distant and will not be a good father—”
“Pardon me?” she interrupted in disbelief. “Are you saying—?”
John put out a staying hand. “Let me finish.”
