“What do you want from me?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.
“Help. Financial support, at least until I can get back on my feet. Maybe a chance for Leo to know his real father.” She looked directly at me, her eyes desperate and exhausted. “I’m not asking you to blow up your life, Sam. I know you have someone - she’s beautiful, and from what I can see online, she adores you. I’m just… I’m asking for enough stability so my son doesn’t haveto worry about where we’re sleeping next week. So he can have what every child deserves - a safe place to call home and parents who aren’t constantly stressed about survival.”
Of course, she said she’d looked me up. No doubt she’d seen the photos of Chloe and me.
“I need time to think about this,” I said finally.
“Of course. But Sam, I can’t keep living in motels. Leo’s starting to have nightmares.” Her voice broke, and I could see the genuine pain there. “I know how this looks, showing up after five years asking for help. But I’m out of options. Leo deserves to know who his father is, and honestly? He deserves better than what I can give him alone. If you can’t help us… I don’t know what happens next.”
I looked at the little boy who was quietly coloring while his mother and a stranger discussed his future. He was innocent in all this, caught between adults who’d made complicated choices that had led to this moment.
“Can I…” I hesitated, not sure how to ask. “Can I just… talk with him?”
Jenna nodded, then turned to Leo. “Sweetheart, want to show Sam the rest of your pictures?”
Leo looked up at me with those familiar brown eyes, cautious but curious. He held up his placemat. “I colored inside all the lines.”
“You did an amazing job,” I said, meaning it. “That’s a really great fire truck.”
“I like trucks,” Leo said quietly, still watching me carefully. “And dinosaurs. And mac and cheese.”
The simple declaration made something in my chest tighten. “Those are all excellent things to like,” I said. “What’s your favorite dinosaur?”
“T-Rex.” He held his hands up like claws. “They go rawr and eat everything.”
“Pretty scary,” I agreed.
Leo studied me for another moment, his little face serious. Then, with the blunt directness only a four-year-old could manage, he asked, “Are you my daddy?”
The question knocked the air from my lungs. I glanced at Jenna, who looked stricken, clearly not having expected him to ask so directly. She opened her mouth, but I could see she didn’t know what to say either.
“That’s, uh…” I fumbled for words, my heart hammering. “That’s a pretty big question, buddy. What makes you ask that?”
“Mommy cries a lot,” Leo said matter-of-factly, going back to his coloring like he hadn’t just asked the most loaded question of my life. “She says we’re gonna find my real daddy. Are you him?”
Jesus.This kid had been listening to everything, processing everything, while the adults around him thought he was just coloring.
“I…” I looked helplessly at Jenna, who had tears in her eyes. “We’re still figuring some things out, okay? But your truck is really cool. Did you know T. rex probably couldn’t actually roar? Scientists think they made sounds more like really big birds.”
It was a desperate deflection, but Leo’s eyes lit up. “Like chickens?”
“Kind of. But way, way bigger.”
“That’s silly,” Leo said with a small giggle, apparently willing to let the daddy question go for now. He picked up a blue crayon and started working on the sky above his fire truck, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration – another gesture I recognized from my own childhood photos.
“He’s usually pretty shy with new people,” Jenna said softly, her voice shaking slightly. “It takes him a while to warm up. I’m sorry, he’s been… he’s been asking questions lately. About his dad. I didn’t think he’d just—”
“It’s okay,” I said quietly, though nothing about this was okay.
After a few minutes, Leo held up his finished picture. “Look! I made the sky blue, and the grass green, and the truck is red.”
“That’s perfect, buddy,” I said, and he gave me a small, shy smile.
“He likes you,” Jenna said quietly.
My mind was racing. Yesterday, my biggest concern had been whether to propose inside the Rosewood Inn or outside with the fairy lights. Today I was looking at my son, and trying to work out what to do.
“I’ll help,” I heard myself say. “Financial support. And… and I want to get to know him.”
