Epilogue 1
Chloe - Almost One Year Later
I stared at the plastic stick in my hand, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
Two lines.
Two very clear, very pink lines.
I sat on the edge of the bathtub in our master bathroom, my hands trembling slightly as I read the instructions for the third time, even though I knew exactly what two lines meant.
Pregnant.
I was pregnant.
Sam and I hadn’t been trying, but we hadn’t exactly been preventing either.
After Leo’s adoption was finalized three months ago – Jenna had signed away her parental rights without contest, hadn’t asked to see him even once, and David had covered all our legal expenses including gifting a significant sum for Leo’s education fund – we’d had one of those late-night conversations about the future where Sam had said, “If it happens, it happens. I trust us to handle whatever comes.”
And I’d agreed.
But knowing something might happen and holding proof that it was happening were two very different things.
I looked down at the test again, as if the lines might have changed in the last thirty seconds. They hadn’t. Still very much there. Still very much real.
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 yard for 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.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the pregnancy test, setting it on the table between us.
Sam stared at the test, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak, just sat there looking at the two pink lines like they were written in a language he was trying to translate.
Then, slowly, he looked up at me. “You’re pregnant?”
“I’m pregnant,” I confirmed.
“We’re having a baby?”
“We’re having a baby.”
Sam stood up so quickly his chair scraped against the floor. Then he was pulling me into his arms, holding me so tight I could barely breathe, his face buried in my hair.
“Sam?” I said after a moment. “Are you okay? Talk to me.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, and I saw tears streaming down his face. “I’m okay. I’m better than okay. I’m just…” He let out a shaky laugh. “I’m trying to figure out how I got this lucky.”
“You’re happy?” I asked, even though I could see the answer in his eyes.
“I’ve never been happier,” Sam said, grinning through his tears. “I’m terrified and thrilled, and I love you so much I can’t even put it into words.”
I laughed, my own tears falling freely now. “I love you too.”
“How far along do you think you are?”
“I don’t know. Maybe six weeks? Eight? I’ll need to make an appointment to find out for sure.”
“Do you feel okay? Should you be sitting down? Do you need water? Food?” Sam was already looking around like he needed to immediately take care of me.
“I’m fine,” I said, catching his hands. “I’ve been fine. I’m still going to be fine. This is just a positive test, not a medical emergency.”
“Right. Right.” Sam took a breath. “Sorry. I’m just… processing.”
“I know. Me too.”
We stood there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the news settle between us.
“We should tell Leo,” Sam said eventually. “Not tonight – he’ll never sleep if we tell him tonight. But soon.”
Before I could respond, Leo burst into the kitchen with Rocket at his heels, both of them practically vibrating with energy.
“Hands washed!” Leo announced proudly, holding up his still-damp hands for inspection. “Ready for pizza!”
Rocket barked his agreement, tail wagging so hard his entire back end wiggled.
Sam and I looked at each other and laughed.
“Pizza it is,” Sam said, reaching for his phone to order.
“With pineapple?” Leo asked hopefully.
“Absolutely not,” Sam said, but he was smiling.