We stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him sleep. His small chest rising and falling, his face peaceful in a way it hadn’t been all day. Safe. Protected. Ours.
Downstairs, Chloe and I collapsed onto the couch, exhausted.
“So,” I said after a long silence. “We have a kid.”
“We have a kid,” Chloe agreed, then let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “This morning I was worried about being back at work too soon. Now I’m a… what am I? Stepmother? Guardian?”
“You’re Dr. Chloe,” I said, taking her hand. “And apparently that’s exactly who he needs.”
She was quiet for a moment, her thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. “I meant what I said. About being sure. But Sam, this is happening so fast. What if I mess it up? What if I’m not good at this?”
“You were amazing with him today,” I said. “The way you talked to him at the clinic, the way you let him choose his own clothes, the way you answered his questions about his mom without lying but without scaring him. You knew exactly what to do.”
“I was making it up as I went along.”
“So was I.” I pulled her closer. “But we’re doing it together. That’s what matters.”
Chloe rested her head on my shoulder. “What happens now? With the legal stuff, I mean. Arthur said it would be complicated.”
“He’ll call when he knows more. But in the meantime, we just… take care of Leo. One day at a time.” I paused. “Are you really okay with this? With everything changing so fast?”
She looked up at me. “We’re his family now.”
“We’re his family now,” I repeated, and something settled in my chest.
We sat there in the quiet house, Leo sleeping upstairs, the future uncertain but somehow less frightening than it had been this morning. We didn’t have all the answers. We didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, or how long the legal process would take, or what challenges we’d face as instant parents to a four-year-old who’d been through more upheaval than any child should.
But we had each other. And we had Leo.
Chapter 17
Sam - Fourteen Days After Chloe’s Birthday
Two days with Leo had taught me more about being a parent than any book or advice could have prepared me for.
Like how a four-year-old could ask approximately seven hundred questions before breakfast. Or how bedtime could take anywhere from twenty minutes to two hours, depending on whether the truck needed a story too. Or how the simple act of making chocolate chip pancakes could feel like the most important thing I’d ever done when it made Leo’s entire face light up.
This morning, Leo was sprawled on the living room floor with crayons and paper, drawing elaborate pictures of the puppies at Chloe’s clinic. Yesterday we’d taken him to visit them – Sarah had been delighted to see him, and Leo had spent an hour gently petting each puppy and telling them stories about his new room and the dinosaur shirt he’d picked out.
“Sam-Sam, does Trouble miss me?” Leo asked without looking up from his drawing.
“I bet she does,” I said from the kitchen, where I was attempting to make coffee with one hand while responding to a text from Kate about The Copper Fox’s liquor order with the other. “But Sarah’s taking good care of her until you can visit again.”
“Can we go today?”
“Maybe tomorrow, buddy. Chloe will be home soon, remember?”
Leo nodded, already absorbed back in his drawing. The resilience of children was remarkable – two days ago, he’d been abandoned by his mother, and now he was drawing puppies like it was just another Wednesday morning.
Except it wasn’t just another Wednesday morning. Arthur had called yesterday to say he’d have a full update for us today. The PI he’d hired had been tracking Jenna’s movements, and Arthur’s research into Illinois family law was complete.
My phone buzzed. Arthur:Can you talk? I have information.
I looked at Leo, happily drawing, and knew I couldn’t take this call with him in the room. Not after only two days. Not when he still asked every night if we’d be here in the morning.
I shot off two quick texts. To Chloe:Arthur has an update. Can you join a conference call in 15 minutes?
Her response came immediately:On my way home now.
