Two pink lines on a stick. Not the ideal way to end a work conference. Neither is what happens when I break the news to the guy I spent the night of my life with: our email chain goes silent.
The worst part? I should have known better. I’ve been here before, and have a perpetually pissed-off 15-year-old son to prove it. Then I collide with a man on the sidewalk.
He’s gracious enough, but when he turns around and those achingly familiar ice-blue eyes meet mine, my stomach hits the pavement. Sam is as handsome as I remember.
But the smile that sparked everything that night is nowhere to be seen as he takes in the ten-month-old in my stroller—and sees his own eyes staring back at him.
While at first his feelings about being a dad are complicated, soon Sam’s everywhere—changing diapers, making dinner, and looking at me in a way that makes me think it’s not just me who can’t stop thinking about that night we made this baby.
And when I learn the real reason Sam disappeared, the electric fence I rigged around my heart starts to short out. But when I finally get that Sam’s all in, suddenly I’m the one running scared.
Because if I choose wrong again, my heart’s not the only one that’ll go up in flames.
