That was Sean. But Sam wasn’t Sean.
So why was I believing Jenna?
I let myself in through the front door and dropped my bag on the kitchen counter. The house felt too quiet, too empty, giving me too much space to think.
I needed to be rational about this. Logical. I was a veterinarian — I dealt in facts, evidence, diagnoses. What were the actual facts here?
Fact: Sam had a son he hadn’t told me about. Fact: He’d been distant and secretive for six days. Fact: Jenna showed up at my clinic with a very specific story.
But also fact: Sam had been trying to talk to me, and I’d been too exhausted to listen. Also fact: The Sam I knew for two years wasn’t the kind of man who would abandon someone he loved without a conversation. Also fact: Jenna was a stranger who had every reason to want me out of the picture.
Wait.
I stopped, hand on the counter, as something clicked into place.
Why would Jenna come to me? If Sam was planning to tell me this afternoon anyway, why would she show up at my clinic to tell me first? She said Sam would be “furious” with her for coming. That he’d told her he was going to tell me today.
So why jump the gun? Why risk his anger?
Unless… unless she was lying. Unless Sam wasn’t planning to leave me at all, and Jenna was trying to push me out before I had a chance to talk to Sam. Before he could tell me whatever he actually wanted to say.
I pulled out my phone, looking at Sam’s text from this morning:“Can’t wait to see them. And can’t wait to see you. Love you.”
That didn’t sound like a man planning to break up with me in a few hours. That sounded like Sam. My Sam.
And breakfast this morning? Sam had texted me at 9 AM from the bar. When would he have had time to have breakfast with Jenna and discuss logistics? It didn’t add up.
Maybe I was being played. Maybe Jenna’s whole performance — the tears, the “I want us to be friends,” the careful way she’d positioned everything as Sam’s noble sacrifice — maybe it was all manipulation. A calculated attempt to make me leave before Sam and I could talk.
I should hear what Sam had to say before jumping to conclusions. I should trust the man I’d planned to spend my life with over a woman I’d met twice.
I should—
The home phone rang, cutting through my thoughts. We barely used the landline anymore — it was mostly for emergencies, for people who couldn’t reach our cells.
I picked up the cordless handset from the kitchen counter. “Hello?”
“Oh, hi, Dr. Parker! Thank goodness. This is Jimmy Alden. I’ve been trying to reach Sam all morning, but he’s not answering his phone.”
“He’s at the bar,” I said. “Is everything okay with the house?” Jimmy and his wife, Marta, were Sam’s long-term tenants. They’d been renting his house for years.
“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Look, I wanted to let Sam know we can move out immediately. We can be out in two days.”
“Move out? Two days?” My heart started pounding.
“I know, I know, it’s quick. We’d expected to need the full thirty-day notice, but everything’s fallen into place. We’ll stillpay the full month’s rent, obviously. I’ve been trying Sam’s cell all morning, but it keeps going to voicemail, and when I called the bar, nobody answered.”
“I’ll let him know,” I heard myself say, my voice sounding distant. “I’m sure that’s fine.”
“Great, thanks so much. We really appreciate the understanding. Tell Sam we’ll have everything cleaned and ready to go by the end of the weekend.”
I hung up and stared at the phone in my hand.
The end of the weekend. Sam’s house would be available by the end of the weekend. His tenants were moving out.
He wanted to wait until he had everything figured out. Where we’d live. When we’d be moving in together.
Jenna’s words echoed in my head, and suddenly the tenant’s call wasn’t a coincidence. It was confirmation.
