The charges of grand larceny against David were past the 6-year statute of limitations. Because of that, the police couldn't hold him for more than the domestic violence charges filed against him on my behalf, the previous charge from two years earlier gaining traction because of the most recent attack on met. It was exactly what the district attorney needed to establish a history of domestic violence, and hold him on $50,000 bail.

I tried hard not to feel sorry for David. After all, he was Michael's father. But because of such torn feelings for the man who'd abused my trust and hurt me not just emotionally but physically, I continued my counseling sessions with Jackie. I had to admit that the sessions did help diffuse much of the anger I felt over what happened to me with David and my feelings over my inability to do something about it sooner. It also helped me deal with the slow process for my hand to return to normal.

But just because David wasn't allowed to have any contact with me didn't mean that he'd lost his visitation rights with Michael. He still had them, even though they would be supervised and limited to the park for a few hours during the weekend. I was a wreck the week after my encounter with David, even though I knew I wasn't going to be seeing him. The mere thought of Michael being with him, supervised or not, made me sick. But on Thursday night, as I sat on the deck after putting Michael to bed and setting the audio monitor next to me in case he awoke, Erik sat across from me at the table and reached for my hand.

"David made bail," he said, squeezing my hand gently.

"How'd you know? No one called me."

"No one called me either. But he came by at the clinic today to see me," he said as I frowned, angry at the thought that Erik hadn't told me about his visit till now. "I called you, but you didn't answer, not that I would have talked about this over the phone."

"What did he want?" I asked. "I can't even imagine how he could face you—or anyone for that matter after everything he's done."

It had been Erik's first day back at the clinic. After twelve hours of catching up on paperwork, seeing patients and putting out whatever fires Serena had left behind after being removed from the board, he looked tired. He'd shaved off the beard he'd grown during the time off from work, but already, stubble lined his jaw.

"He wants to relinquish his parental rights over Michael," Erik said softly.

"He came up with this decision on his own?" I asked.

"Sitting in jail for the last five days and realizing no one was going to bail him out probably gave him enough time to think things over," Erik said. "He said he's given it a lot of thought and after everything he's put you and Michael through, he said it's the best thing for him to do."

"He needed no convincing?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.

Erik shook his head. "I didn't bury a body if that's what you're thinking. He came to my clinic on his own accord."

"So, what did you tell him?"

"I said it was his decision, not mine though I do want to adopt Michael. I also said that this was something best discussed with his attorney," Erik said.

"And?"

Erik took a deep breath and let go of my hands. He leaned back against the chair. "He told me that the court has allowed him to return to New Mexico to take care of his daughter. She has cerebral palsy."

"Camille," I whispered. "She's only ten."

Erik nodded. "As long as you don't contest the lack of child support from him, he said that maybe when Michael is older, if he wants to know who his real father is, you can tell him. But only then. He would like to keep Michael's sketches, though. He knows you're going to paint again, but he'll understand if you want them back."

"But I don't want to keep his son away from him. I mean, this is quite drastic, Erik."

"It is," Erik agreed. "But he's a New Mexico resident—and the only reason he's been flying back here each week was to fulfill most of his weekly visits with Michael."

I sighed, not knowing what to say though a huge part of me was skeptical.

"Do you think it's just another one of his games?"

"You know his games more than I do, Sam. I just call things as I see them," Erik said, pulling out a white envelope from his pocket. "He asked me to give you this."

My hands were trembling as I opened the envelope and pulled out copies of documents that David had filled out by hand, notarized, and filed in L.A. court that very day. But even as I read it, the words refused to make sense, as if I'd suddenly lost my ability to understand plain English.

"What is this?"

"He's giving up his parental rights over Michael, just like he said he would," Erik replied. "Once that is finalized, it clears the way for me to legally adopt Michael. Assuming we are getting married."

"Damn right, we are," I said, sitting straight on the chair and wondering if I'd somehow missed something in the past few days. "What makes you think we're not?"

"Just checking," he grinned.

"If we didn't have to invite half of Manhattan Beach and L.A. because you're so damn popular, Erik, I'd marry you in a heartbeat," I said. "But as it is, this is your wedding more than it's mine."

And though Erik was loathed to deny it, it was true. The moment word had gotten out that we were getting married, the initial guest list of fifty people grew to almost 300—if we didn't want to offend anyone—which included a few individuals who'd helped get his clinic off the ground. Erik even admitted day, that had he known that we'd also be knee deep in lawsuits, restraining orders and expanding his clinic, he'd had driven me to Las Vegas to get married in a tiny chapel, complete with an Elvis impersonator walking me down the aisle.

"You'd really marry me in a heartbeat?" he asked, beckoning for me to sit on his lap. "You're still willing to grow old me with me and count my wrinkles?"

"Yup," I said, feeling his arms surround me as I sat on his lap facing the Strand. "I'm already counting two wrinkles, Erik. One of them must be mine."

Erik thought about it for a moment. "Actually, I'm afraid they're both yours."

I gasped, pretending to be offended, but Erik kissed me, silencing whatever else I would have said about his wrinkles or weddings. It was a soft kiss. And just like all his kisses, it always took my breath away. My belly tightened, butterflies doing their usual fluttering as his kiss deepened and I felt his hand move along my thigh.

A few minutes later, remembering where we were, I drew away from him, breathless. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rubbed my cheek against the stubble along his jaw, giggling.

"What about you?" I asked. "Are you sure you're still up to this? I'm not an easy person to live with, you know, and I come with some baggage that sometimes manages to creep up on me when I least expect it."

"That makes two of us, Sam. But that's life, so I'm not too worried about that," he chuckled. "How about a week from now? Just the civil ceremony. Then we can plan the big wedding that is yours, as much as it is mine."

"Deal," I said, kissing him on the neck and watching the goosebumps pop along his skin. "Just tell me when and where, and I'll be there with bells on."

Erik arched an eyebrow. "Really? Should we do a test run then?"

"Test run of what?"

"Just how well you follow directions," he replied, grinning. "We can start with four points."

"What four points—?"

"When? Three minutes," he began, his tone serious. "Where? On my bed. How? Naked as the day you were born. What? That's for me to know and for you to find out—if you want to find out."

"But—"

"The clock starts now, Sam."

I was ready in two.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

Such were our days since Erik and I agreed to start over, where every situation was dealt with together the best way we could, with trust, a bit of brevity and excitement thrown in for good measure.

It felt like we were sitting at some universal card table, watching the days go by with new eyes just like players observing a dealer shuffle the cards. And with each new card drawn, a new perspective on life appeared, with each of us choosing how to play each hand dealt to us the best way we knew how.

Like when Rosie realized she'd made a huge mistake pretending I didn't exist after I was sent to juvie. Of course, the realization had arrived in the form of young Anna tracking her down at the university. Rosie had even written a letter to apologize to me - only she never sent it. I found it at the bottom of the box that Trevor and Linda gave me the day they left for Arizona.

I'm sorry I gave up on you. All I wanted was to leave everything behind and pretend we never messed up Bob's car. It really surprised me when you told the cops that you were the one who keyed those words when you and I know I was the one who did it. I had no idea you're now in juvie, doing time for something I did. I hope you can forgive me, and we can start over. This time, I'll never give up on you. I'll make it up to you, even if it's the last thing I'll ever do. - Rosie

Sometimes we made the right choices, and sometimes the wrong ones—wrong decisions that often lead us to the right path. It was all part of this new life we'd decided to share together. And it was something that Erik and I had to learn to navigate together as one.

I could not tell what was to come the next morning, the next month, or the next year. What I could tell was that I had found the courage to forgive the one person I had cast so much blame on, never realizing then how it had weighed down my life. And in the forgiving, I had seen myself not too far removed from where Anna was then if Eunice had not given me a second chance. But I had also found someone I loved and trusted, someone who, as Rosie used to tell me, would love me and respect me for being me - even with all my scars, both hidden and not so hidden.

But Rosie was only half right. For I had found someone else, too. Perfectly imperfect, she was trustworthy and full of love, as much as her heart could bear. And though sometimes she was often crippled with moments of self-doubt when the past reared its head to remind her of where she came from, she always believed that she was strong enough and that she was worthy of all the good that life had to give her.

And her name was Sam.

https://leanpub.com/findingsam

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27397246-finding-sam

The first cover I made for Finding Sam was with Fassy on the cover :)