Eight months later . . .

“I think it’s cute that you don’t think Cody likes you as more than a friend.”

“He knows he’s just a friend.”

I glanced over. No matter what I said, Sam, along with everyone else, automatically paired us together. I’d made it a point to keep Cody at arm’s length out of fear that he really did see me as more than a friend. The last thing I wanted or needed was a relationship of any kind. I had a demanding job and a demanding child. That was all I needed.

“A friend who got you pregnant,” he stated, rubbing a hand over his short hair and drawing my attention to the scar on the side of his head. It still hurt to think about how he got it. I blinked away from him and looked at the road ahead.

“How are you feeling?” I changed the subject. I loved him too much to have him carry the burden of my truths.

“Good. Tired, but good. I’m hoping with the tests and treatments they want to do to me here I can put this all behind me once and for all. How’s the Miles?”

“Good.” I smiled, thinking about my little blue-eyed boy and his soothing scent. “So good.”

“I can’t wait to see him.” His smile was so similar to his brother’s that it broke my heart a little. He’d only seen the baby on the phone so he hadn’t gotten the full effect of Miles’s cuteness.

“He’s going to love you.”

“You think?”

“I know so. You’ll be his second favorite uncle.” I pursed my lips. “Maybe his first. Freddie doesn’t call or FaceTime nearly as often as you do.”

He laughed. “Well, I’m glad I’m in the running for the top spot.”

“Are you nervous about the treatments?”

I hated asking him the question because I knew it was probably the one thing everyone asked him non-stop, but it was impossible to ignore. Not with his buzz cut or the scar he was sporting, evidence of what he’d gone through to get rid of the tumor.

“I’m hopeful,” he said. “They say I’m out of the woods. I just want to make sure I stay that way.”

I smiled. “I like that.”

“Perks of catching things early and being proactive.”

“I’m so glad you did.”

“Me too.”

I swallowed. “How’s your family?”

“Good. Dad’s happy. Mom’s working on it. Ro’s working hard.”

Even hearing his nickname made my chest ache. It wasn’t that I hadn’t moved past our breakup, because I had. It was that every single day with Miles was a reminder of what I was keeping from him, of what he should be part of but I couldn’t allow. I also didn’t have it in me to complain about the fact that Rowan always seemed to be doing well while I was constantly teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown.

It would be a cold, cold day in hell when I complained to a man who’d just been through brain surgery, though. Absolutely not. It didn’t matter that, some days, motherhood was overwhelming because it had no set hours. It didn’t matter how frustrated I got or the number of trips I’d had to pass up on because of it, because when I held Miles in my arms nothing else seemed to matter.

“I wouldn’t tell you something that would hurt your feelings,” he said, seemingly reading the hurt expression on my face.

“The mere acknowledgment of him hurts.”

He pressed his lips together. We arrived at my apartment building and parked along the street. Celia and Grandma Joan moved to Paris while I was still pregnant, and we’d upgraded from a one bedroom to a three bedroom. It wasn’t a huge place, but it was cozy and the view was to die for.

“How’s everything at Prim?” Sam asked as we walked.

“Oh my god. It’s awesome. Spectacular. Incredible.”

He laughed at my excitement.

“I’m dead serious. Yamina, my boss, keeps talking about the U.S. office that’s set to open, and I think she’s seriously considering me for a director position.” It wasn’t anything she’d specifically said, but something in my gut told me that was why she kept bringing it up.

“Where is it going to be?” Sam asked. “In New York?”

“Yeah, that’s where they’re setting things up.”

“That’s exciting. I’m happy it’s working out for you.” We were silent for a moment as we crossed the street. “Are you still sketching dresses during your free time?”

“No. I’ve been too busy to sketch for pleasure,” I said, which wasn’t exactly a lie. I had been busy, but there was no way I was telling anyone that I hadn’t opened one of my sketchbooks since I had gotten that damn email from Rowan. I hated that a single moment killed my creativity the way it had.

When we got up to the apartment, I opened the door and let Sam walk in before me. He let out a whistle.

“This place is bigger.”

I laughed. “Well, we needed more room. It helps when you’re rooming with an old rich lady.”

Sam smiled.

“Is that Samson I hear?” Grandma Joan called out before she lowered her voice, saying, “Let’s go see for ourselves.”

She carried Miles in her arms as she approached us. He smiled when he saw me, frowned when he saw Sam. They’d seen each other countless times on the phone, but I was sure it was different for Miles to have him right in front of his face. Sam walked up to him and pinched his chubby cheeks softly.

“Hey, buddy, remember me?” he said in a soft voice that made me smile so hard my cheeks hurt. Miles smiled at him before swinging his tiny arms out toward Sam. I pressed a hand to my chest as Sam gathered him into his arms, kissing my grandmother on the cheek as he did. She held both sides of his face and pulled his forehead to hers.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. I’ve been praying,” she said.

“It seems someone heard you.” He smiled. Miles held both sides of Sam’s face when Joan let go and started to slap him.

“Miles, softly,” I said. “Be gentle.”

“I can take it.” Sam laughed looking at Miles. “You trying to beat your uncle up?”

Grandma Joan walked over to me with a look of pity on her face. When she reached me, she brought her hands to my face and brushed my cheeks. “Get a hold of yourself, sweetheart.”

I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying, but the ache in my chest seemed to tighten. I blinked and nodded, excusing myself to use the restroom. I was so thrilled to have Sam here, but it made me think about Rowan and what seeing Miles would do to him. What would he say? What would he think?

When I couldn’t hide anymore, I splashed cold water on my face, took a deep breath and walked back out. Sam was walking in slow circles as he examined Miles as he carried him, scanning his little face. Was it me or was he looking a little too closely? He glanced up at me, giving me a long look. I held my breath. What if he knew? He glanced back at Miles and continued to coo at him. I felt myself breathe a little easier. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if Samson asked me outright about Miles’s father. He seemed pretty convinced it was Cody, and I hoped that for Miles’s sake it stayed that way, because I didn’t really want to imagine having my son around Camryn while I wasn’t around.