Chapter Thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-seven

Sam

Well, fuck. I don’t want to kill Chloe’s streak of inspiration and make her not be able to finish her book. Especially if this kid turns out not to be mine. Maybe I should wait until I get the results of the paternity test back before I drop a bomb on Chloe. No need to burden her prematurely, right?

Shit.

I’m putting it off again. I can’t tell her tonight, not when she’s sick. Shoving my keys in my pocket, I look back at Chloe, asleep on the couch. As a doctor in a trauma center, I see the worst of the worst. Chloe is going to be okay, yet my chest feels tight thinking of her alone in my apartment while I’m at work tomorrow. I want to take care of her. I want to bring her soup and make sure her fever isn’t going up.

I want to comfort her and love her, like I always have.

I haven’t allowed myself to think about the baby being mine in detail, but I need to. Because there’s a chance my life will turn upside down in just a few short months, and Stacey and I will need to come up with a plan. I don’t want to live with her, but I want to be there the first night my child comes home from the hospital which puts Stacey and me together. She has a roommate and I have a one-bedroom apartment.

I could move. There are two-bedroom units available In the same building, and I considered getting one for a while but didn’t need the space. The second bedroom can be set up like a guestroom and nursery, which makes sense for only a moment.

The baby needs more stability than that, and it makes more sense for me to be the one crashing at Stacey’s place…though she did say her lease is up, and I don’t think her roommate will want her back with a newborn. No matter what I think up, it comes back to doing what’s best for the baby.

And that’s having all three of us under the same roof.

*

“This is good, thanks.” Chloe sniffles and takes another spoonful of soup. “I hope you don’t catch what I have.”

“I’ve already been thoroughly exposed.” I playfully elbow her. “And I plan to be exposed again once you’re feeling better.”

“Oh, I’m going to expose the hell out of you.” She trades her now-empty bowl of soup for a glass of water. “That cough medicine is kicking in. I’m feeling a little loopy.”

I scoop up the last of my soup and put my bowl next to hers on the coffee table. Standing, I offer a hand to pull Chloe up. We get ready for bed, and Chloe falls asleep almost as soon as she’s snuggled up against me. Gently, I brush her auburn hair out of her face and kiss her forehead.

My heart aches at the thought of losing this. Chloe is everything I’ve ever wanted and more than I’ll ever deserve. Even if she’s accepting of me raising a child with someone else, moments like this will be few and far between, and I hate thinking of how unfair it is to her.

To make Chloe stay with me in the same house as my baby mama.

To be woken up in the middle of the night when my newborn cries.

To have to go on trips alone because I’m home with my kid.

Is that a lifestyle she’s going to want? I can’t fault her if it’s not. I wasn’t a single dad when we rekindled the flame between us. We mapped out a way to make our long-distance relationship work, and a baby wasn’t in the picture.

If it wasn’t for Chloe in my arms, I probably wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. I’m not rested at all, though, when my alarm goes off in the morning. My left arm is under Chloe, and I slowly move so I don’t wake her up. She’s still sound asleep when I leave, stirring only when I give her a kiss goodbye.

My mind is on Chloe the whole way to work and as I prep for surgery. Once I’m in the OR, talking with the nurses and surgeon, I’m back to feeling like myself. We’re busy today, dealing with multiple car accident victims, and I place a record number of patients on ventilators today.

I only had time for a fifteen-minute lunch break and had just called Chloe when a patient was airlifted in. I told her I loved her, cut my lunch short, and rushed back to the OR.

Needless to say, I’m exhausted when I get home. Chloe is in the kitchen, wearing leggings and one of my Chicago Bears sweatshirts. Her long hair hangs in perfect waves around her pretty face, and dinner is on the table.

“Hey,” she says, voice still hoarse. “How was the rest of you day?”

“Just as busy as the first part of it.” I take my shoes off and cross the room, taking Chloe in my arms. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little. I got two chapters written and did a bit of rewrites my editor suggested. And then I napped.”

“You need it.” She hooks her arms around me, going in for a kiss only to turn away and cough. “You know you didn’t have to make anything for dinner.”

“I know.” She smiles and kisses me now. “And I didn’t make it. I ordered it. It’s only on plates and not the plastic containers it came in because I put it in the warming drawer and didn’t think the plastic would hold up.”

“Good. You need to keep resting so you can get better.”

“I’m bad at it.” We break apart and she goes to the table.

“At what?” I ask, washing my hands.

“Resting. I love sitting and watching TV for hours when I have something to do, but when I’m supposed to take it easy, I get restless.”

I laugh. “I feel the same. It took me a while to finally figure out if I give myself a good day or two to just sleep, I get better in half the time.”

“You’re right. Hopefully I’ll feel much better by tomorrow. I still want to go to Silver Ridge if you want to.”

“I do. There’s a full moon tomorrow, so the OR is going to be busy. A few days along the lake sounds nice.”

“Good.” She smiles, and it takes my breath away all over again how beautiful she is. “I’ll write and nap all day and will drive us so you can nap in the car after work.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I join her at the table, and she takes my hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Of course, Chloe. I wish I’d been the one to take care of you all along.”

“I do too. We’re together now, though. Finally, right?” she chuckles. “I used to think the universe kept us apart as some sort of sick joke, but now…now the stars have finally aligned, and I know we’re meant to be.”

“Yeah,” I say, dying on the inside. We are meant to be, but the sick joke the universe is playing is far from over.