"Are you going to eat that, Sam?" Tom asked her, nodding pointedly at the plate of food in front of her. "Sam?"
"What?" she looked up, surprised, as if she hadn't noticed Tom sitting opposite her.
"Well you've just been staring at your food for about five minutes. Is there something wrong?
"No," she said, far too quickly, he noticed.
"Come on, you know you can tell me,"
"Look, there's nothing wrong, just leave it, will you!" she snapped, and began to eat her food. Tom looked hurt, but he knew there was no way he could get it out of her. In the two months they'd been living together, they had managed to avoid any more major fights, and he didn't want to start one tonight; she would tell him in her own time.
Later that evening they were lying on the sofa together, Sam curled in Tom's arms, their earlier exchange forgotten, when Tom realised that she wasn't actually watching the film they had just switched on. Instead she appeared to be fixed on her hands in his. He didn't want to upset her again, but he could sense she didn't really want to watch the TV.
"Do you want to go up to bed?" he asked, kissing her neck and squeezing her hand gently.
"Mmm," she mumbled, looking up at him, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth, the first time he'd seen her smile all evening. She stood up slowly, pulling him with her, keeping hold of his hands all the way to their bedroom.
"I'm going for a shower," Sam said, pulling away from him. She entered the bathroom, undressing and stepping into the steamy warmth quickly. She didn't want to think about anything tonight, just wanted to go to bed, and never have to get up again. She didn't know what Tom would think. Tom. She swallowed hard and shut off the water. No she told herself, she didn't have to tell him tonight. She dried herself and slipped an old t-shirt of Tom's over her head. Taking a deep breath, she left the bathroom. The main lights were off in their bedroom, with only the bedside lamp glowing dimly. Tom was reading, waiting for her. She climbed into bed next to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Ooh you're cold!" he exclaimed, pulling her closer to him and she pressed her body against his. He kissed her forehead, then pulled back. "Okay, don't go all grumpy on me, but are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Sam, you've been quiet all evening, you barely ate anything, and you seem so upset. This isn't like you. You know that you can tell me. I'm not going to hate you, or laugh at you, or do anything that you don't want me to, so please tell me, I want to help you, I hate seeing you like this."
Furiously blinking back tears she muttered, "I'm fine. Just tired," but it was too late. A tear had escaped from her eye, but before it had a chance to roll down her face, Tom wiped it away.
"Sam, you don't cry over nothing, please tell me what's wrong. I know you don't believe me, but I can help. So, go on, what's wrong?"
"I- it's just- I'm, I mean, I think I might be pregnant," she whispered, looking down, avoiding his gaze.
"Oh Sam. Why are you crying about it?" he brushed away the tears that were falling fast now.
"I don't know!" she choked out
"Well there must be something that's got you so upset. Come on, what is it?"
"I just don't think I could do it," she finally admitted. "I'm not exactly the maternal type. I would just mess it all up!"
Tom sighed. "Well I know that's not true. You'd be brilliant! Anyway, why do you think you're pregnant?"
Sam hesitated, knowing he would want to know why she hadn't said anything. "I've been sick three times this week, and I've missed two periods," she blurted out quickly, hoping he wouldn't hear.
But no such luck. "Sam! Why didn't you say something?" At least he didn't sound angry, mainly concerned.
She looked up at him at last. "Because I knew you'd get all protective and not let me do anything. I thought I was just ill."
"You still should have told me. It might be serious! You can't just ignore it, no matter how strong you think you are. If you're sick tonight, wake me up."
"No, Tom, it'll be about three in the morning. I'm not waking you up just for that; I can manage."
"If you don't, I'll wake myself up. You shouldn't have to do it by yourself."
Sam groaned. "Fine, I'll wake you up tonight, but not again."
"Deal. And tomorrow, you could have a scan at work, to see whether or not you are pregnant?"
She yawned. "Mmm," she said sleepily.
He chuckled. "But for now, sleep, silly girl."
He kissed her forehead again, then reached over to turn out the lamp.
Tom was woken by a hand hitting his chest. He sat up in time to see Sam disappear through the lit bathroom doorway. He hurried after her, stumbling in his haste and tiredness. When he reached Sam, he knelt down on the cold floor beside her as she retched. He rubbed her back, and when she had finished, handed her a glass of water.
"Well, that was worth you waking up at this time, wasn't it?" Sam said sarcastically as she leant against the wall.
"Sam," Tom said shortly. She knew what he meant.
"Sorry, I'm just tired. Sorry you had to miss a good night's sleep to see that."
"It was good to be there for you actually. I can't believe you'd want to go through that alone. Actually, I can; I know you."
She smiled sheepishly, pulled her fingers through her hair and said, "Come on, lets go back to bed." Sam pushed him playfully through the door and they both fell into bed. As they pulled the duvet up, Tom kissed her.
"Tom?" Sam nudged him gently, but didn't wait for a response. "You won't be disappointed if I'm not, you know, pregnant, will you?" she whispered tentatively. He didn't reply. She looked over and saw that he was already asleep. She sighed, turned over, and closed her eyes.