Page 64 of The Secrets We Built Together

"Like you communicated last night when you decided not to wake me?" I couldn't help the sarcasm that crept into my voice.

He set down the spatula with deliberate calm. "That wasn't about Amelia's care. That was about letting you rest."

"It was about control," I countered, then immediately regretted my words when I saw his expression harden.

"Is that what you think?" he asked quietly. "That I'm trying to control you and Amelia?"

Amelia squirmed in my arms, perhaps sensing the tension between us. I focused on adjusting her position, using the moment to gather my thoughts.

"No," I finally admitted. "I know you're not." I sighed, meeting his gaze again. "But this arrangement—it's complicated. We're still figuring out the boundaries."

His expression softened slightly. "We are. And we will." He gestured to Amelia. "Meanwhile, our patient seems to have made a full recovery while we were busy disagreeing about treatment protocols."

As if on cue, Amelia reached out toward the stove, making the insistent sound that had recently become her way of expressing interest in something.

Despite myself, I laughed. "Apparently she has opinions about pancakes."

"She's definitely feeling better," Xander agreed, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Strong opinions about breakfast are a positive diagnostic sign."

The tension between us didn't exactly disappear, but it eased enough that we could move around the kitchen together, preparing breakfast with Amelia watching from her high chair. Every so often, our hands or arms would brush as we reached for the same utensil or plate, sending little sparks of awareness through me that had nothing to do with our disagreement.

Later, as we sat across from each other at the small kitchen table, Amelia happily gumming tiny bits of pancake between us, Xander broke the contemplative silence.

"You know, we're still going to disagree about things," he said, his tone casual but his eyes serious. "Probably a lot of things over the years."

The easy way he referenced a shared future made something flutter in my chest. "I know," I admitted. "We come from different backgrounds, different... philosophies."

He nodded, watching as Amelia smashed a piece of pancake with evident delight. "My parents disagreed about everything—from how to discipline us to what church to attend. But they never figured out how to disagree productively. It was always a power struggle."

I thought about my own childhood—my parents’ rigid expectations. "My parents didn't disagree much," I said. "Mostly because they believed their opinions were unquestionable."

Xander's eyes softened with understanding. "So you're afraid of not being heard, not being included."

The insight was so accurate it made my breath catch. "I guess I am."

He reached across the table, his fingers brushing mine. "For what it's worth, I think we did okay last night. But, I hear what you’re saying and I should have communicated with you better. It wasn't pretty, but we both put Amelia first. And she's fine this morning." He smiled. "Maybe better than fine, considering her enthusiasm for pancakes."

I looked at Amelia, her face now decorated with sticky maple syrup, her eyes bright and alert. No trace remained of the feverish, miserable baby from the night before. Then I looked at Xander—exhausted from his night watch but still steady, still here.

"You're right," I conceded. "We did okay, and I could have been better too." I turned my hand beneath his, linking our fingers. "But next time, wake me for my shift. Partnership means sharing the hard parts too, not just the pancake breakfast afterward."

His smile deepened as he squeezed my hand. "Deal."

As I looked at our linked hands on the table, with Amelia babbling happily between us, I realized something important. Last night hadn't just been our first real disagreement—it had been our first step toward being a genuine family, with all the complications and compromises that entailed. And despite the tension, despite the unresolved questions about how we would navigate future decisions, there was comfort in knowing we were figuring it out together.

The thought stayed with me as we cleaned up breakfast. Whatever came next with DCFS, whatever Susan might ask, whatever judgment she might pass on our unorthodox family, at least we could truthfully say we were committed to doing what was best for Amelia—even when we disagreed about exactly what that meant.

Chapter 25

Blake

Istared at the stack of DCFS paperwork spread across Xander's coffee table, rubbing my temples as the words began to blur together. We'd been at this for three hours, and Amelia had finally settled after a particularly fussy evening.

"I think I'm seeing double," I said, leaning back against the couch cushions.

Xander looked up from the form he was reviewing, his eyes tired but still somehow warm. "We can finish tomorrow. Susan doesn't need these until the next meeting."

"I'd rather just power through." I reached for my coffee mug, now empty for the third time. "If we stop now, I'll just lie awake thinking about it anyway."

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