Page 118 of The Secrets We Built Together

"Da-da-da!" Amelia suddenly babbled, reaching for Xander.

"Oh, now you're just showing off," he laughed, taking her from my arms and spinning her around gently. "My brilliant girl."

I watched them together, my heart so full it felt like it might burst. This moment—Xander in his boxers with his hair a mess, me in his old shirt with tears on my cheeks, and our daughter chattering away in his arms—this was everything I never knew I wanted.

"What?" Xander asked, catching me watching them with what must have been a ridiculous expression on my face.

"Nothing," I said, smiling through my tears. "Just thinking how lucky we are."

His expression softened, and he crossed back to me with Amelia still in his arms, pulling me into a gentle kiss. "Luckiest man alive," he murmured against my lips.

"Mama!" Amelia announced again, patting my face with her tiny hands.

We broke apart, laughing, both of us crying happy tears now.

Our perfectly imperfect family was just getting started, and I couldn't wait to see what came next.

Chapter 42

Xander

Isat on the porch of our cottage, Amelia curled against my chest as I read through patient files on my tablet. She'd fallen asleep after fighting it for nearly an hour, her little body finally surrendering to exhaustion while I swayed and hummed against her ear. Even asleep, her tiny hand clutched the fabric of my shirt like she was afraid I might disappear if she let go.

It was my favorite way to end the day—holding our daughter close, breathing in the sweet baby-powder scent of her skin, feeling her little heartbeat against mine.

Our daughter.

The thought hit me sometimes with a force that took my breath away. Madison had made it official when she signed the adoption papers. Amelia was ours now, legally and in every way that mattered. The family we'd pretended to be had somehow become real when none of us was looking.

I glanced through the window where I could see Blake at the kitchen table, sketching furiously in the dim evening light. Herhair was piled messily on top of her head, and she had a smudge of charcoal on her cheek. There were dark circles under her eyes from late nights in the studio, but she looked more alive than I'd seen her in months. Her gallery show was in three weeks, and she'd been working around the clock to finish her collection.

A pang of guilt hit me as I watched her. I should go inside, offer to take Amelia for the night, make sure Blake got some sleep. But I was selfishly enjoying these quiet moments with my daughter, stealing a few minutes of peace before plunging back into the chaos of our lives.

From inside, I heard Blake's phone ring. She answered with her usual cheerful "Hello" that quickly morphed into excited chatter. It was probably Delaney calling about the babysitting schedule we'd worked out to give Blake more studio time.

I closed my eyes and leaned back in the rocking chair, letting the gentle motion soothe both Amelia and me. The evening air was cool against my skin, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and distant rain. The late spring was turning quickly toward summer, with wildflowers dotting the pastures beyond our cottage and fireflies beginning to appear at dusk. I'd never imagined that my life would look like this—that I'd find contentment in these small, quiet moments.

The screen door creaked open, and I opened my eyes to see Blake stepping onto the porch. Her expression was serious as she leaned against the railing, studying me with a thoughtful gaze.

"That was the gallery," she said, nodding toward the phone in her hand. "She wanted to know if I could photograph some more of the paintings for the promotional materials tomorrow. They're printing the catalog this weekend."

"I can help," I offered immediately. "I can make some time in the morning when the light is good."

Blake's frown deepened, her fingers twisting together anxiously. "You’re always doing that."

"What?"

"Offering to take on more so I can work. Giving up your things for mine."

I shifted Amelia gently so I could look at Blake more directly. "That's what partners do, Blake. They support each other."

"But what about your work? The clinic is about to open, and you're spending all your time taking care of Amelia and running errands for me. And you haven’t said anything about the practice. About whatyouwant to do." She pushed away from the railing and began to pace, her movements jerky with agitation. "I feel like you're putting your life on hold because of me."

I watched her pace, understanding dawning slowly. This wasn't just about tomorrow's errand. This was about something bigger.

"Blake," I said softly, not wanting to wake Amelia. "Come sit with me."

She stopped pacing and hesitated, then came to perch on the edge of the other rocking chair. I reached out and took her hand, her fingers cool against my palm.

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