Sam held the tiny blue and white sneakers in his hand underneath the awning of your little porch. Baby shoes were an inside joke between you two. In the time you were together, the thought of having kids was never in your minds until you passed a display of little tiny sneakers. At first, it was just you, the little pink hi-tops and dress shoes made your ovaries twitch, and your heart melted while Sam snickered at you. It wasn't until you held up a tiny pair of yellow-tan work boots that you saw the world change in Sam's eyes. You saw a potential of love that went beyond work, beyond you, beyond that fucking treasure. The love for a child. In those eyes, you saw a future.
Sam was a risk taker. The excitement, the spontaneity, it was what drew you to him like an open sea waiting to be experienced. You took risks together. In everything. And after two years and eight months, a positive test changed it all.
When you told him, you waited for that look to appear, the one he had when he saw the little baby work boots. Instead, the gold flecks dimmed, the hazel darkened. This wasn't what he wanted. After all of the ultimatums were threatened, the screaming was over, and the last door slammed, you were left alone. Well, not entirely alone.
Six months had passed. Sam had found his treasure, his great find. The feeling of happiness, fulfillment that he expected to come as he stood surrounded by his discovery never came. Instead came the void, the one that had sparked into being, into his heart when he slammed the door behind him six months ago, the one he pushed to the deepest depths of his mind with trying to find this treasure. Now, as he stood before his fantastic find, his lifelong search over, the void emerged. It engulfed his heart and his mind, destroying the gratification, the satisfaction, and any sense of achievement, leaving a wake of nothing in its place. Just another void, one that had never existed with you. He couldn't do this anymore.
Sam watched you at the store. From a safe distance, he smiled when you picked up the small blue and white sneakers and danced them playfully across your growing belly. He saw you put the shoes back with a sad look, an empty look. One that he knew. You had a void too.
Sam stood on your porch with the little baby sneakers in his hand. He didn't know how to be a father. He didn't know if you would take him back. He didn't know if you and he were going to work out. He didn't know how he was going to handle it all. But he knew he loved you. He knew he was tired of the void in his heart. He knew he wanted to feel the love the sight of those little shoes triggered.
That night, Sam Drake took his last and greatest risk.
He knocked on your door.