Chapter 18
Sam - Six Weeks After Chloe’s Birthday
Four weeks of being a family had taught me that parenting was equal parts joy and chaos, with a healthy dose of complete terror sprinkled in for good measure.
Like this morning, when I walked into the bathroom to find Leo had decided to give himself a haircut with my beard trimmer.
Or last week, when he’d tried to “help” Kate refill the salt and pepper shakers at The Copper Fox and accidentally dumped an entire container of salt all over the floor.
Or the time he’d asked me, with complete four-year-old seriousness, when he could start working as a vet, and then immediately followed up by asking if he could have ice cream for breakfast.
But it was also Leo’s laugh when I chased him around the yard pretending to be a dinosaur. The way he held Chloe’s hand crossing the street without being asked. How he’d started calling our house “home” instead of “your house.”
We were figuring it out. One day at a time.
“Daddy, can we visit the NEW puppies today?” Leo asked from his spot at the kitchen counter, where he was carefully spreading peanut butter on his toast with the focused concentration of a surgeon.
Daddy. He’d started calling me that two weeks ago during Saturday morning pancakes, and every time I heard it, something warm and overwhelming flooded through me.
Around the same time, he’d transitioned from calling Chloe “Dr. Chloe” to “Chloe-mama.” Trudy had helped him work through it in one of their sessions – Leo had wanted to call Chloe “mommy” like he’d called Jenna, but he’d been worried it would be confusing or disloyal.
Trudy had suggested “mama” as a way to honor both relationships: Jenna would always be his mommy, and Chloe could be his mama.
When Leo had first tried it out – shy and uncertain, watching Chloe’s face for her reaction – she’d cried happy tears and pulled him into the tightest hug. Now “Chloe-mama” rolled off his tongue as naturally as breathing.
“New puppies” referred to the latest litter at Chloe’s clinic – a boxer mix who’d had six puppies three weeks ago.
The golden retriever puppies Leo had originally bonded with had all gone to their forever homes, which had resulted in days of tears and several therapy sessions with Trudy to work through his feelings about loss and permanence.
“We can visit after your session with Trudy,” I said, pouring coffee into my travel mug. “Speaking of which, we need to leave in twenty minutes.”
“Okay!” Leo took a huge bite of his toast, getting peanut butter on his nose in the process.
I grabbed a paper towel and gently wiped his face. “Buddy, you’ve got to slow down when you eat.”
“But I’m excited! Trudy said we might do the feelings cards today!”
Leo’s individual therapy sessions with Trudy had been Chloe’s idea.
She’d suggested it during one of our family sessions, pointing out that Leo had been through significant trauma and that having a safe space to process his feelings – separate from us – might help him long-term.
Trudy had agreed, and for the past month, Leo had been seeing her twice a week on his own, plus we had family sessions once a week where all three of us worked on communication and attachment.
Arthur had been pleased when we’d told him about the therapy. Apparently, voluntary mental health support showed the courts we were proactive about Leo’s emotional well-being, which would only strengthen our custody case.
But honestly, I didn’t care what the courts thought.
I cared that Leo had stopped having nightmares every night.
That he’d gone from asking every night if we’d still be there when he woke up to bounding downstairs asking about pancakes.
That he smiled more easily now, laughed louder, and trusted more freely.
Chloe emerged from the bedroom, already dressed for the clinic.
She’d been continuing her own therapy, though less frequently now.
She’d told me last week that she felt like she was “finding her balance again”, and the daily sessions she’d needed right after she came home had tapered to once every two weeks now.
“Are you ready for the chaos?” she asked, stealing a sip of my coffee.
“Always.” I kissed her forehead, letting myself linger there for just a moment. These small touches, these quiet moments of connection – they’d become precious to me. Reminders that we were rebuilding not just as a family, but as partners. “How’s your morning looking?”
“Three wellness checks, one dental cleaning, and a kitten for his first round of shots.” She smiled. “Oh, and I promised Leo he could help me check the new puppies’ weights after his therapy session.”
“I heard,” I said, watching Leo finish his toast and immediately start building a tower out of the sugar packets he’d pulled from the basket on the counter. “How are you feeling about tonight?”
Tonight was our first real date night since Leo had come to live with us. Harper and Jack had offered to watch him – Emma was thrilled at the idea of having Leo for a sleepover – and Chloe and I were going to dinner at the Italian place two towns over.
I’d been looking forward to it all week. Not because I needed a break from Leo, but because I wanted uninterrupted time with Chloe. Time to talk without spelling words we didn’t want Leo to understand. Time to remember what it felt like to just be us.
“Excited,” Chloe said, meeting my eyes with a smile that made my chest warm. “And maybe a little guilty for being excited?”
“Don’t be. Trudy said it was important for us to maintain our relationship separate from parenting.” I pulled her closer, keeping my voice low. “Besides, I miss you.”
“I’m right here,” she said, but her smile told me she understood what I meant.
“You know what I mean. I miss us. Just Sam and Chloe, not Daddy and Chloe-mama.”
“I miss us, too.” She kissed me quickly, then stepped back as Leo looked up from his sugar packet tower. “Okay, I’m off. Leo, be good for Daddy at your appointment, okay?”
“Okay, Chloe-mama!” Leo jumped down from his stool and ran over for a hug. “Will you show me the new puppies today?”
“Yes! They’ve been asking about you.”
“Really?” Leo’s face lit up with that pure childhood joy that never failed to make my heart clench.
“Really. Especially the little brown one with the white paws. She misses your gentle hands.”
After Chloe left, Leo and I had a few minutes to kill before his appointment.
We spent it playing with blocks on the living room floor – Leo building elaborate structures while narrating complex stories about puppy adventures, me adding pieces where he directed, and marveling at how much he’d grown in just a month.
The custody process was moving forward steadily.
Arthur had filed the petition in Oregon, and Patricia was handling the Illinois side.
We’d had our first home study three weeks ago – a social worker named Margaret who’d spent three hours at our house, interviewing us, observing Leo, asking questions about our routines and plans for the future.
She’d let Leo show her his room – now decorated with posters of dogs and a glow-in-the-dark solar system on the ceiling.
She’d observed dinner time, where Leo had helped set the table and told Margaret very seriously about how triangle sandwiches tasted better than regular sandwiches because “the shape changes the flavor.”
Margaret had smiled at that, writing notes in her folder. Before she left, she’d told us quietly that Leo seemed “remarkably well-adjusted for a child who’d experienced significant upheaval,” and that she’d be recommending our custody plan be approved.
It wasn’t final approval. We still had months of court proceedings ahead of us. But it was progress.
“Daddy, we need to go!” Leo announced, checking the Mickey Mouse watch Chloe had bought him. “Trudy doesn’t like it when people are late.”
“You’re absolutely right, buddy. Let’s head out.”
Trudy’s office was in a converted house on the edge of Willowbrook, painted cheerful yellow with a garden full of flowers that Leo loved to inspect before and after his sessions. Today, he was particularly interested in the butterfly that had landed on the lavender bush.
“Look, Daddy! It’s just like in the Hungry Caterpillar book!”
“It is,” I agreed, crouching beside him.
“Chloe-mama says butterflies used to be caterpillars, and they had to change to become butterflies. Like how I changed houses and got happier.” He looked up at me with those serious brown eyes. “Trudy says change can be scary, but sometimes it makes things better.”
“Trudy is very smart.”
“Hi Sam, hi Leo!” Trudy greeted us at the door. She was in her fifties, with kind eyes and the calm presence that immediately put everyone at ease. Leo had taken to her immediately. “Leo, are you ready for our session?”
“Are we doing the feelings cards?”
“We might. We’ll see what you feel like talking about today.” She looked at me. “Sam, I’ll let you know when we’re done.”
“Perfect. I’ll be in my truck if you need me.”
I watched Leo take Trudy’s hand and walk into her office without hesitation, chattering about the butterfly he’d seen. A month ago, he’d clung to my leg and cried when I tried to leave him anywhere. Now he went willingly, trusting that I’d always come back.
I spent the next forty-five minutes on my phone going over the weekend schedule with Kate. She’d been managing things beautifully while I adjusted my hours for Leo – covering shifts, helping me figure out a schedule that would let me do drop-offs and pick-ups once Leo started pre-K in the fall.
My phone buzzed. Trudy: Leo’s ready for pickup. Great session today.
I headed into her office, where Leo was proudly showing off a drawing he’d made – our family, he explained. Three stick figures holding hands outside a house, with what appeared to be approximately twenty puppies surrounding them.
“That’s beautiful, buddy,” I said, admiring the artwork.