The McRae Series 01 - Twelve Days Sam and Rachel

happy about it. I'm sorry. I know the timing was awful. I know what it cost you. But as scared as I was, I was happy, too, because I knew you'd marry me. I knew my parents would have a fit and worried that they'd dislike you even more and I knew you probably wouldn't get to go to school the way you wanted. But I knew we'd be together and I was happy. How selfish is that?"
    Sam stared at her, wondering why they kept coming back to this point and why it was so important to her. Could she possibly not know how he felt about her? How he'd always felt?
    "Did you think you had to get pregnant for me to marry you?"
    "Yes," she admitted.
    "Rachel—"
    "There's more," she said. "I... I wasn't sure I'd ever find the courage to tell you this. I should have, I know, but I was so ashamed.... Sam, I wanted to marry you. I was afraid you'd never ask me, because of my parents and because of everything else. And... remember the night we were out by the lake, and we didn't have a condom, and we wanted to make love, and I told you it was safe?"
    "Yes."
    "It wasn't. At least, I didn't think it was, and I didn't plan that, Sam. I didn't. It was one of those things, those split-second decisions. It was wrong. I know it, and I'm sorry. I didn't think it was safe at that time, and I lied to you and told you it was. I thought we'd leave it up to fate that night. That if we were meant to be together, it would happen. But I wanted to get pregnant, because I wanted your baby and I wanted you to marry me."
    Sam didn't say anything at first. He was too surprised.
    "That must have been when it happened," she said. "And I'm sorry."
    "Sorry about what?" he asked carefully.
    "That I misled you. That I was selfish and unfair to you and took that decision out of your hands by getting pregnant. I'm sorry for everything that happened after that."
    "Sorry that you married me?" he found the courage to ask, something he should have done years ago.
    "Sorry that I forced you—"
    "Rachel, you didn't force me to do anything. I knew we were taking a risk that night. I knew we shouldn't have. We did it anyway. Both of us. Because we wanted to." Once he'd finally given in and let himself have her, he'd hardly been able to keep his hands off her. "And nobody forced me to marry you."
    "You couldn't have walked away. Not with me pregnant with your child."
    "Men do it all the time."
    "Not you. You're not like that. I knew exactly what you'd do."
    "I did exactly what I wanted to do," he said. "I wanted to marry you. I was grateful for the excuse."
    "Sam?"
    "Didn't you have any idea how much I wanted you? How much I needed you and loved you? All these years, Rachel, how could you doubt that?"
    "I made you give up so much—"
    "Did you hear what I said a minute ago? You were the only thing in this world I ever loved back then. The only thing left now. I loved our baby, and I loved Will and you. That's it."
    She was crying then, and he pulled her up onto his lap and into his arms.
    "I thought it was all my fault," she sobbed. "Our baby... I thought I deserved to lose her, because I'd tricked you. Because I'd been selfish. I thought that was my punishment."
    "Oh, Rachel." He tightened his arms around her, pushed her hair back from her face, and kissed her forehead. She was shaking so hard, he thought he might be the only thing holding her together at the moment, and it scared him. He'd never realized, never imagined. "You've been feeling guilty about this all these years?"
    "Yes. I didn't have the courage to tell you."
    "Rachel, we made our daughter together. Both of us. And we would have loved her, if she'd lived. But it wasn't your fault. Innocent children don't die because their parents..."
    "What?" she asked. "Because their parents made a mistake? Is that what you were going to say? It was more than a mistake."
    "It's no reason for a child to die. There's no damned reason for that," he argued. "God knows we've tried to make sense of it long enough. We both know there's no sense to make of it."
    "It was wrong," she said. "I was wrong to do that."
    "Maybe. But it's not like you're the only person in this world who's ever made a mistake. Do you think they all deserve to lose their children?"
    "No."
    "God," he muttered.
    He'd always thought it was him. That he was the only one who'd felt so guilty when their baby died. Who still felt guilty to this day. But she did, too, and it seemed that's where all the distance between them had started. A fissure in the rock of their