I couldn’t do that. I needed to get out. Now. “Yes,” I heard myself say, my voice steadier than I felt. “I’m home. Waiting for Sam.”
“You’re going to talk to him?”
I took a breath. Then another. Forced myself to sound calmer. “Yes. Okay. I’ll… I’ll hear him out.”
“Chloe—”
“You’re right. I need to talk to him.” The lies came easier now. “He should be home any minute. We’ll talk.”
“Promise me you’ll actually listen to what he has to say.”
“I promise.” Another lie. “I have to go, Harper.”
“Call me later, okay? Let me know you’re alright.”
“I will. Thank you.” I hung up before she could say anything else. I stood there, phone still in my shaking hand, Harper’s voice still echoing in my head.
Sam isn’t Sean.
But what if he was?
I powered off my phone and grabbed my duffel bag.
Harper had tried. She’d said all the right things, made all the right arguments. But she hadn’t been there when Sean left. She hadn’t felt what I felt — the humiliation, the betrayal, the sickening realization that I’d been a fool.
I couldn’t survive that. Not again. I wouldn’t.
I threw the duffel bag in my truck, left the note on the kitchen table where Sam would see it, and drove. I didn’t know where I was going. Away. Just away.
Chapter 13
Sam - Six Days After Chloe’s Birthday
The morning at The Copper Fox had gone smoothly — produce delivered, weekend prep done, Kate handling the lunch rush. I was heading home early with one purpose: finally telling Chloe everything.
I had the paternity test results printed and folded in my wallet. I’d rehearsed what I was going to say during quiet moments this morning. I was going to start with an apology – for the lies, for the birthday disaster, for handling everything so badly. Then I’d explain about Jenna’s arrival, about Leo, about the impossible position I’d found myself in, and why I’d thought keeping it secret was the right thing to do.
Then I’d show her Leo’s picture, tell her about the paternity test results, and ask for her help figuring out how to be a father while keeping the woman I loved.
It wasn’t going to be easy, especially since Chloe had met Jenna and Leo without my knowledge and had no doubt formed a view on what was going on. She would be hurt that I’d kept this from her, angry that I’d let her encounter them without warning or context. But she was reasonable, compassionate, and sheloved me. We’d work through it together the way couples were supposed to work through difficult situations.
The way I should have approached it from the beginning.
Everything felt charged with possibility as I drove home, like I was finally about to stop managing separate pieces of my life and start building something whole.
The driveway was empty when I pulled up at 12:30, which made sense — she’d texted this morning that she’d be home by 1 PM for our talk. I was early, but that gave me time to collect my thoughts one more time before the conversation that would determine our future.
I let myself in through the front door, dropping my keys on the counter. The house was quiet, just the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall.
I checked my watch. 12:32. Maybe I should make some coffee, review what I wanted to say one more time.
That’s when I saw the note on the kitchen table. My name was written on the outside of a folded piece of paper in Chloe’s precise handwriting.
My stomach dropped to somewhere around my feet because that hadn’t been here this morning when I left, and as far as I knew, Chloe had gone straight from the Jenkin’s farm to her clinic.
With shaking hands, I unfolded the note and read the words that shattered my world:
Sam,
