I look up from the phone, meeting Stacey’s eyes. Her face pales and she slowly sinks into her chair.
“You’re nine weeks along,” I say, and some of the shock wears off.
“Nine weeks and four days to be exact!” Her mom takes the phone back, smiling again at the black-and-white photo.
“Mom,” Stacey says through gritted teeth. “No.”
“No?” Her mom gives her a confused look. “What do you mean?”
Calmly, I reach for my water and take a big drink. Stacey is only in the first trimester. Only nine weeks along.
“What are you playing at?” I ask, and anger starts to take over. “Do you have any idea what this has done to my life?” I ask, working hard to keep my voice low. “My relationship? And what? Did you think you could keep up the lie? That I wouldn’t wonder when the due date came and passed?” I huff and stand up, slowly shaking my head in disgust.
“I…I…don’t be mad,” Stacey tries and reaches for me. I jerk back, bumping into the table next to us.
“Why?” I say in a low voice, clenching my fists.
“I…I don’t know,” she whimpers. “I knew you’d take care of me and the baby. Please don’t be mad.”
Mad? I’m beyond mad and am fucking pissed. Resisting the urge to flip the table, I take my wallet out and put enough cash on the table to cover the food I ordered but hasn’t yet come.
“What’s going on?” Michelle looks from me to Stacey several times.
“She’s only nine weeks along,” I tell her, tearing my eyes away from Stacey. “There is no way that baby is mine.”
“Sam, wait!” Stacey calls after me, but I keep walking, not stopping until I’m on the sidewalk outside the restaurant.
“What is wrong with you?” I ask. “You upended my life.”
“What about my life?” she blurts out and then shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m hormonal and I can’t help—”
“That’s not my problem, Stacey. You lied to me and you were set to continue lying? What was your plan? To make me think I had a child until they turned eighteen?” I look away and let out a breath. I don’t want to stand here yelling at anyone, let alone a pregnant lady. “I should have seen it coming. The first thing you did was ask me to buy you stuff.”
“Sam, no, it’s not like that. We’re good together. I know it. You’ll be an amazing father—”
“To someone else’s kid? I’m sorry you feel so desperate you have to lie, but keep me out of it. Good luck, and don’t ever talk to me again.”
I turn and walk away, digging my phone from my jacket pocket. I need to tell Chloe that everything is going to be okay again. Stopping myself at the last second, I call her dad instead.
“Hey, Sam!” Mr. Fisher says cheerfully. “Is Chloe all right?”
“She’s not sick again, if that’s what you’re asking. She had to go back to LA and I want to go surprise her. I don’t have her address, though.”
“I’ll text it to you,” Mr. Fisher tells me. “She’ll love that, but if you’re trying to sneak up and scare her, know she has a fancy alarm system.”
“Noted.” It makes more sense why Chloe thought sneaking up to her dad’s house was a good idea. They seem to enjoy pranking each other, and I’m here for it. “Have you spoken to her recently?”
“I haven’t, but don’t worry, I won’t spoil the surprise if I do.”
“Thanks. I’ll, um, suggest she give you a call.”
“I’d like that. Have a safe flight, Sam. Take care.”
I log onto the airport’s website as soon as I’m back home, and search for flights. I don’t care what airline I take or if I have to land halfway and switch planes. Anything to get to Chloe and tell her in person. My heart is hammering in my chest as I scroll through the flights, annoyed that most of them have long layovers. There’s one nonstop flight leaving today and it only has two seats left.
I don’t even bother to look at the price of the ticket. I’ll pay whatever it takes to get to Chloe.
The website loads at turtle speed, and I tap my fingers on the counter, worried someone else came in and snatched up the tickets. Finally, the page loads and I purchase a ticket. A bit of tension leaves my chest, and I cannot wait to see Chloe.
I have several hours until my flight, which is more than enough time to get some shit thrown in a bag and figure out what to do about work tonight. I haven’t taken a sick day in over two years. Normally, I’d never lie like this, but fuck it.
Anything to get to Chloe.
Time moves so fucking slow, and it feels like a full day passes before it’s time to go to the airport. I get through security and still have an hour and a half until my flight. I get something to eat and pull out my phone and call my brother.
“Hello?” Jacob answers.
“Hey. Stacey lied,” I rush out. “It’s not mine.”
“Fuck yes! You have to be so relieved.”
“You have no idea.”
“Did you ever tell Chloe?” he asks.
“Yeah, last night. She had to go to LA for work, so I’m flying out now to tell the good news in person.”
“That’ll be a happy reunion.” Dogs bark in the background. “I gotta chop off some balls. Enjoy tonight.”
I remember I never texted Archer back after I end the call, as he and Jacob were the only ones who knew.
Me: It’s not my kid. She’s only 9 weeks and fucking lied.
It takes a few minutes for Archer to reply back, and I’m walking back to my gate when he does. I find a seat and drop my bag next to it.
Archer: Holy shit.
Me: Yeah. I don’t know how she thought she’d explain it when the kid is born a full month after what the due date should have been.
Archer: …and Chloe?
Me: She’s in LA. I’m at the airport now to fly out to tell her in person.
Archer: So you can celebrate with sex, of course.
Me: Of course.
Archer: Use protection this time.
Me: Hah.
Archer: One of our anesthesiologists is retiring. We’ll be looking to hire soon, and it’s been a while since I got to ask you if the patient is paralyzed.
I reply with an eye rolling emoji.
Archer: We really will be looking to hire. You’d like it here.
It wasn’t that long ago that Archer wanted to continue his schooling and be a trauma surgeon, but didn’t because it took too much time away from his family.
Me: And work with my sister?
Archer: She’s my best nurse and she hasn’t heard about the position opening, so be prepared for her to plan your life here.
I’m in a good enough mood now that I know Stacey isn’t carrying my child and things will go back to how they were with Chloe that the thought of Rory setting up a hypothetical life for me—and Chloe—in Eastwood makes me smile.
Me: I’ll consider it.
I’m called to board not long after that, and I stare out the window, watching the landscape pass by the entire flight. I brought a book but am too distracted to read. I’ve never landed at LAX before, and I feel like I’m wandering blindly about trying to find where I need to go to get an Uber to take me to Chloe’s house.
The sun is just now starting to set, and the two-hour time difference is throwing me a bit. It felt like a week passed since Chloe left last night, and each second that ticks by without hearing from her makes time go by slower and slower, and I fear she’s slipping away.
Finally, I get an Uber and have quite a way to go from the airport to Chloe’s house. I anxiously look out the window, heart hammering in my chest the whole way. Chloe still hasn't responded to my text, and I’m trying not to think too far into it.
“I can’t get you any closer than this,” the driver says when we pull into a cul-de-sac. Chloe’s driveway is gated off, and I remember the code she told me.
“It’s fine.”
“You sure you’re supposed to be here?” The drive looks at me skeptica
lly.
“Yes, it’s my girlfriend’s house.”
“I can’t help you if you get arrested for trespassing,” he goes on.
I grab my bag. “I won’t. Thanks,” I say and get out, having already tipped and rated him on the app as we drove. I get out of the car and stop at the gate, looking at Chloe’s house. It’s up on a hill, and is large and impressive, looking exactly like something you’d imagine when thinking of a celebrity’s house in the hills.
My pulse picks up once I’m through the gate. Lights are in inside the house, and I’m one step closer to my Chloe once again. Walking faster, I go to the front door and ring the bell. A moment later, a man opens the door and looks at me, confused.
“You’re not the pizza guy, are you?” he asks.
“No, I’m looking for Chloe.” Did I get the house wrong? No, this is it. The code for the gate worked and everything.
“Oh,” he says and steps back. I look through the foyer into the living room and see Chloe. But she’s not alone.
She's sitting on the couch, wrapped up in Charles Baldwin’s arms.
27
Chloe
I look up from the couch and see Sam standing in the doorway. His eyes go from me to Charles and back again. I don’t think anything of it until I see the abhorrence on his face.
“Is this why you needed more time?” Brows pushed together, he turns and starts to walk away.
“Sam!” I call, scrambling to get up. My foot catches in the blanket and I fall, hitting my arm on the coffee table. Pain radiates through me, but I ignore it. “Sam!” I call again.
I make it outside and he slows but doesn’t turn around.
“It’s not what you think!”
This time he stops. “Then what is it?” He looks at me, pain obvious on his face. “Because it looks like you went back to the arms of your ex-boyfriend as soon as things got rough.”
“No,” I press, heart racing. I open my mouth to tell him the truth, but it’s not my secret to tell. “There’s nothing going on between us. Charles is my friend and we…we…”
“It’s fine, Chloe,” he says, and sounds so defeated.
“It’s not,” I go on and move toward him. Sam takes a step back and my heart breaks. “There’s nothing between us.”
“She’s right.” Charles appears in the doorway, and Eric, his stuntman boyfriend that joined us for a pity party, stands behind him. “We’re friends and nothing more. That’s all we’ve ever been.” Charles comes down the stone porch steps. “Because I’m gay.”
“What?” Sam asks, looking from me to Charles and back again. Charles has a playboy reputation—with women. Sam’s confusion is warranted.
“I’m gay,” Charles repeats and motions to Eric. “That’s my boyfriend.”
“Charles,” I start. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to. For us both.” Charles steps forward. “Nothing is going on between the two of us and it never has. Our whole relationship was fabricated by Karina, our publicist, to get attention for the show. It worked, and when we were fake-dating, we became close friends. Chloe was one of the few people who knew—and kept—my secret. I love Chloe like a sister, and even if the thought of kissing a woman did appeal to me, I wouldn’t want to kiss my sister.”
Sam’s shoulders relax and he rushes forward, taking me in his arms. My heart swells in my chest, and I wrap my arms around him, kissing him with fervor, pulse racing.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, still shaking.
“Stacey lied. She really is pregnant, but it’s not mine. I wanted to tell you in person.”
I blink, needed a second to process everything. “Seriously?” I blurt, and Sam nods.
“Yeah. There’s no way it’s mine. The last time we were together was June, but she’s only nine weeks along.”
“What a bitch,” Charles says, and I turn, almost forgetting he and Eric are there. The world disappeared the moment Sam took me back into his arms.
“I don’t know how she thought it was going to end,” Sam goes on, brushing my hair back. “I would have found out eventually.”
“So everything is okay now?” I ask, eyes filling with tears.
“It was always okay,” Sam soothes. “Because I love you, Chloe, and our love isn’t fragile. It won’t break easily, no matter what happens.”
A tear rolls down my cheek, and Sam brushes it away with his thumb before kissing me again.
“I love you,” he whispers. “I’ve always love you, Chloe Fisher. And I always will love you.”
“I’ll always love you too.” I’m crying as he kisses me again, dipping me back and pushing his tongue in my mouth. Charles and Eric cheer and Sam straightens me back up, chuckling.
“Let me introduce you,” I say, not letting him go. Sam envelops his arms around me and inhales deep. “Come in.” I take his hand and we turn. “Guys, this is Sam. And Sam, this is Charles and his boyfriend Eric.”
“Hi,” Sam says, looking at Charles a little starstruck, which I find adorable. Hand in hand, we go back inside.
“You came all this way for me?” I ask Sam.
“I’d go anywhere for you, Chloe.” He takes both of my hands in his.
“We’re going to take off,” Charles says, smiling at me. “I take it you two are going to want to be alone.”
“Yeah,” I say, heart swelling in my chest. “I know I do.” I break away from Sam so I can walk Charles and Eric to the door.
“Text me later,” Charles says and hugs me goodbye. I wait a beat, making sure they get into Eric’s Range Rover and then close the door, going back to Sam, who takes me in his arms.
“I’m sorry, Chloe.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“For putting you through that.”
“You didn’t do anything.” I let out a breath and we sit on the couch, close together. “You’re here.” I’m getting emotional again.
“Hey,” Sam says gently and pulls me onto his lap. “I’ll always be here.”
“I can definitely get used to the sunshine.” Sam stretches his arms out over his head, and lies back down, snaking his arm around me. We’re in my bed, naked from having sex. It’s sometime in the morning, and I have no intentions of leaving this bed anytime soon.
“It is nice.” I roll over, smushing myself against Sam. “I could easily be a snowbird and spend most of the winter here.”
“Like an old person.”
“Very much like an old person.” I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Though the last few years, I’ve missed the change of seasons. Working from home makes it so I don’t have to leave the house and go out in the cold very often either, and writing while sitting by a fire in the living room as snow drifts down does sound heavenly.”
“Mhhh, yeah. And then I come home from work, take your computer away, lay you down in front of the fire and fuck you senseless.”
“This needs to happen. I wonder if we can get my dad and Nancy to go on vacation so we can use their living room.”
“As long as you tell them specifically we want to fuck in the living room, I’m sure they will pack up and leave right away.”
I laugh and run my fingers up and down Sam’s arm. “You’re going to be the one to tell my dad that.”
He nods. “Excuse me, Mr. Fisher, can you please vacate the house for at least twenty-four hours during a snowstorm? Your daughter wants me to bend her over, pull her hair, and choke her while I’m fucking her from behind.”
“Sam!” I laugh. “Yes, please say that.”
“If I do, I think the guns will come out of the safe in the basement.”
“Oh, for sure.”
Sam kisses my neck and I close my eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” I ask as it suddenly dawns on me.
“I called off sick,” he admits. “First sick days I’ve used in years, so it’s okay.”
“You rebel. I like dark-Sam. Especially when he shoves me up against a wall and fucks me
until I can’t walk.”
“Your dirty talk is getting better.” He kisses me again and then pulls me onto his chest. We lay together in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. “When I thought Stacey was having my baby,” he starts, “it made me realize that I do want kids and a family, but not with her.” He rakes his fingers up and down my bare back. “Anytime my mom or sister brought up how I should get married and settle down, my mind always went to one person.”
“I really hope it’s me.”
He smiles. “Yes, it’s you. All I could think when she said she was pregnant was that I wished it was you, and I know how messed up that is since we’re not even in the same state. Chloe, there will never be anyone for me but you. I don’t want to rush you into anything,” he breathes. “But I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, and I can’t see anyone else but you being the mother to my children.”
I know anything I say is going to pale in compassion to that, so instead I sit up and kiss Sam. He moves on top of me, kissing me passionately.
“Come back to Chicago with me,” he says between kisses. “I want you there with me when I wake up every morning and when I come home from work. I don’t want to be without you, Chloe, and I know we’re going to have time apart, but when we can…I want us together.”
“I want that too. I want you, Sam, and I’ll take you any way I can.”
He’s right. The long-distance is difficult, but not being together is worse.
*
“He’s beautiful.” Sam runs his hand down Spartan’s neck. “And big.”
“He’s a big softie is what he is.” I clip the lead rope to his halter and lead my big gray horse outside. The grass is dry and browning, and Spartan sniffs around, looking for the best grass to eat. Sam has been in LA with me for two days now, and has to leave in a few hours so he can get back to Chicago from work.
And I’m going back with him.
“How’s he doing?” Sam asks.
Desperate Times (Silver Ridge Series Book 2) Page 24
