In the parking lot, she turned to face me, walking backwards toward my truck. “You know what I realized tonight?”
“What?”
“I’m not scared anymore.” She stopped, letting me catch up to her. “When Jenna first showed up, I was terrified. Terrified of losing you, of not being enough. But now?” She reached up, her fingers tracing my jaw. “Now I’m not scared at all. I trust you. Completely.”
That’s what I’d been seeing all evening – not just desire, but trust. The kind of trust that lets her be playful and vulnerable at the same time. The kind that meant she believed I wouldn’t hurt her again.
“I love you,” I said, backing her gently against the truck. “And I’m never giving you a reason to doubt that again.”
“I know.” She pulled me down into a kiss that was definitely not appropriate for a restaurant parking lot. “Now take me home and show me these ideas of yours.”
“With pleasure.”
Chapter 19
Sam - Six Months After Chloe’s Birthday
“Daddy, how come you and Chloe-mama don’t got matching rings like Uncle Jack and Aunty Harper?”
I looked up from the Sunday crossword puzzle to find Leo standing in front of me, crayon in one hand and a very serious expression on his face. Spread across the living room floor behind him was an elaborate family portrait featuring what appeared to be the three of us surrounded by approximately forty dogs.
The dog obsession was nothing new. Our refrigerator was completely covered with similar artwork – every drawing featuring our little family surrounded by dogs in various states of activity. Dogs playing, dogs sleeping, dogs eating, dogs doing what Leo called “important dog business.”
It wasn’t just the drawings, either. Leo had a gift with animals that even Chloe found remarkable. At the clinic, dogs who were anxious or aggressive with everyone else would calm down the moment Leo walked in. He had a way of approaching them – slow, confident, speaking in that soft four-year-oldvoice – that made even the most skittish animals trust him immediately.
Just last week, Elaine Bowling had brought in her rescue dog, a German Shepherd named Duke, who’d been so traumatized by his previous owner that he wouldn’t let anyone touch him except her. The dog had been growling and trembling in the corner of the exam room when Leo had wandered in looking for Chloe. He’d stopped, looked at Duke for a long moment, then simply sat down on the floor and started talking about his day – about the sandwich he’d had for lunch, about the butterfly he’d seen in the garden.
Within five minutes, Duke had crept over and laid his head in Leo’s lap. Elaine had cried. Chloe had stood in the doorway, completely stunned. And Leo had just petted Duke like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“He’s got the gift,” Sarah had said afterward, watching Leo help Duke feel brave enough for his examination. “Some people are just born understanding animals.”
Chloe had agreed, and I’d caught her looking at Leo with this expression of fierce maternal pride. Our son, the dog whisperer.
“That’s an interesting question, buddy,” I said, refocusing on Leo’s serious face. “What made you think of that?”
Leo climbed onto the couch beside me, tucking himself under my arm. “Emma told me that matching rings means you’re a family forever and ever.” He held up his hand, examining his fingers like he was imagining a ring there. “But you and Chloe-mama don’t got matching rings. Does that mean we’re not forever?”
“We’re definitely forever,” I assured him, pulling him closer. “The rings just make it official. Legal.”
“What’s legal?”
“It means the courts and the government all agree that we’re a family. With paperwork.”
Leo’s eyes got wide. “Like what Arthur is doing?”
“Exactly like that.”
He nodded thoughtfully, then went back to his drawing, apparently satisfied. But his question lingered in my mind long after he’d returned to adding more dogs to his masterpiece.
Six months.
Six months since Jenna had walked back into my life and helped me nearly destroy everything I’d built with Chloe. Six months since I’d learned I had a son and failed spectacularly at handling it. Six months since Chloe had overheard me at her birthday dinner, saying I couldn’t marry her.
Six months since I’d almost lost the love of my life because I was too afraid to trust her with the truth.
But these past six months had also been about rebuilding. Not just our relationship, but ourselves – individually and together. Learning what it meant to be partners, not just in the easy moments but in the complicated, messy, exhausting reality of building a family from broken pieces.
I’d made mistakes with Chloe – catastrophic ones. The birthday dinner had been the culmination of all my failures, the moment when my fear of vulnerability had nearly cost me everything.
