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No. I wouldn’t let that become the story.

Chapter 34- Zane

Thirteen days until I was scheduled to give birth.

I should’ve been the one losing my mind. I was the one about to have a baby bust out of my vagina.

But it was Sam who was about to lose his mind.

He was pacing back and forth in our bedroom like he’d just drunk a gallon of espresso and chased it with anxiety. The hospital bags were open on the floor, already packed, already triple-checked. But he was going through them again like he didn’t trust his own hands.

“Where’s the—” he muttered to himself, tossing a pair of socks to the side. “I know I put it in here…”

“It’s in there. You packed everything,” I said from the bed. “Twice.”

He ignored me.

Next thing I knew, he left the bag half-zipped and moved to the corner of the room, where the crib was half-built. He grabbed the drill, put in two screws, then stood back. He wiped sweat off his forehead—he was sweating like a whore in church even though the AC was on.

Then he went back to the damn hospital bag.

“Sam,” I called. “Baby. You’re scaring the baby with all this pacing.”

He looked up like he’d forgotten I was in the room.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I just… I need to make sure everything’s right.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve made sure. Now you’re making me anxious. Sit down before I call your mama.”

That got a smile out of him, even if it was tight.

He sat on the edge of the loveseat, hands clasped, shoulders hunched. His knee bounced like it had somewhere to be.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he said quietly.

I tilted my head. “Mess what up?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the wall like it was holding secrets he hadn’t cracked yet.

“This,” he finally said. “All of it. You. The baby. Us. Everybody thinks we’re going to fail.”

My chest ached for him. It was interesting, watching him show this side of himself when he always seemed so strong.

“Sam…”

He shook his head, cutting me off. “I know I sound stupid. It’s just—I’m watching the days tick down. We have to move into our home and it’s not furnished. And you’ve got court with Mark in three days, and what if he tries some shit again? What if something goes wrong during delivery? What if I can’t protect you? What if I freeze or panic or I’m not what you need?”

He ran a hand over his head, frustration pouring off him in waves.

I stood up slowly, my belly heavy, my feet sore. But I crossed the room anyway.

And I dropped to my knees in front of him.

He blinked. “What are you—?”

“Helping you calm down,” I said, sliding my hands up his thighs. “And I like making you feel good.”

He stared at me like I was unreal, like I was made of magic.