I stood up, my legs slightly unsteady, and tucked the test into my pocket. Then I washed my hands, took a deep breath, and walked downstairs.
I found Sam and Leo exactly where I expected them – Sam at the kitchen table with his laptop open, and Leo sprawled on his stomach on the floor, surrounded by crayons and paper.
“Mama!” Leo looked up with a grin.
The name still made my heart catch sometimes – not “Chloe-mama” anymore, just “Mama,” a transition that had happened so gradually over the past months that I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when.
“Look! I’m making the perfect pizza! It has pepperoni and sausage and mushrooms and olives and pineapple—”
“Pineapple?” Sam raised an eyebrow, his mock-horror expression making Leo giggle.
“Pineapple is good on pizza!” Leo insisted. “Emma says so!”
“Emma is five years old and has questionable taste,” Sam said, but he was smiling as he said it.
“I’m five too!” Leo announced proudly.
“My apologies. Two five-year-olds with questionable taste.” Sam looked over at me and caught my expression. His smile faded slightly, replaced by concern. “Hey. You okay?”
Leo immediately scrambled to his feet, abandoning his pizza drawing. A blur of black and white shot past him – Rocket, our whippet puppy, always ready to join in whatever Leo was doing. When we’d brought him home five months ago, Leo had wanted to name him Trouble after the first puppy he’d met at the clinic. But, after watching the energetic puppy zoom around our yardfor five minutes, he’d declared, “He’s so fast! He’s like a rocket!” The name had stuck.
Trouble would have been more accurate. Rocket got into plenty of trouble, usually with Leo as his partner in crime.
“Are you sad, Mama? Did something bad happen at work?”
“No, sweetheart. Nothing bad.” I crossed to him and knelt down, pulling him into a hug. “I promise.”
“But you have your serious face on,” Leo said, studying me. “You only make that face when something important is happening.”
I looked up at Sam, who was watching me with that steady, patient gaze that said he’d wait as long as I needed him to. No pushing, no demanding answers. Just there.
“Leo,” I said, releasing him from the hug but keeping my hands on his shoulders. “Can you do me a favor? Can you wash your hands for dinner?”
Leo’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you and Daddy going to have a grown-up talk?”
“Yes,” I said honestly. “But not a scary one. I promise.”
“Okay.” Leo nodded, then looked between us one more time before running toward the stairs with Rocket on his heels.
The moment we heard his footsteps on the stairs, Sam closed his laptop and gave me his full attention. “Chloe?”
I stood up and walked over to him, my heart racing again. Sam immediately reached for my hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my palm. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Better than fine. I just…” I took a breath. “I have something to tell you.”
Sam’s expression shifted slightly. “Okay.”
“I’ve been feeling off for the past week,” I said. “Nothing major. Just tired. I thought maybe I was coming down with something, or that I was just working too hard.”
“You have been working a lot,” Sam said. “Even with Nigel handling more of the load.”
“I know. But today, I was at the clinic, and Sarah made a comment about how I’ve been avoiding coffee.” I smiled slightly. “She was joking, but it got me thinking. About what I wasn’t thinking about, if that makes sense.”
Sam’s eyes widened slightly. I could see him doing the math, connecting the pieces.
“So I picked up a test on my way home,” I continued. “And I just took it upstairs.”
“And?” Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper.
