Page 119 of The Secrets We Built Together

"I'm not putting my life on hold," I told her. "Thisismy life. You and Amelia and this place we're building together—this is what I want."

Her eyes searched mine, skepticism clear in her gaze. "But the clinic—"

"Will be fine," I assured her. "Billie's handling the day-to-day operations with the assistance of Marianne, and I'll still see patients three days a week. It's exactly the balance I want."

"But Booker mentioned the center is already fully booked for the first year," she said, concern knitting her brow. "And I know you’re talking about accelerating the expansion plans. That's a lot of pressure, Xander."

I nodded, acknowledging her point. "It's happening faster than we expected."

Blake didn't look convinced. "It's not just the clinic, though. You're always taking care of us, making sure we have everything we need. When's the last time you did something just for you?"

I thought about it, trying to remember. But the truth was, everything I'd been doing lately had felt like it was for me, even when it was technically for Blake or Amelia. I'd never felt so fulfilled, so purposeful.

"I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing," I told her, the conviction in my voice surprising even me. "Being here with you and Amelia—it's not a sacrifice, Blake. It's a privilege."

She sighed, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "I just don't want you to wake up in five years and resent me because you gave up your career to babysit while I chased my dream."

I almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but caught myself when I saw the genuine worry in her eyes. She was serious. She really thought I might resent her someday for this life we were building.

"Blake," I said, adjusting Amelia's weight against my shoulder. "Can I tell you something I've never told anyone before?"

She nodded, her eyes still troubled.

"I never wanted to be a doctor."

She blinked in surprise. "What?"

"I never wanted to be a doctor," I repeated, the admission feeling strangely freeing. "It was just what was expected of me. The perfect Farrington son following family expectations. Go to medical school, become a successful doctor, make the family proud."

Blake's expression softened. "But you're good at it. You care about your patients."

"I do care about them. And I don'thatebeing a doctor," I clarified. "But if I'd been given a real choice? If someone hadever asked me what I wanted instead of just pointing me down a path? I don't know if I would have chosen medicine."

"What would you have chosen?" she asked quietly.

I thought about it for a moment. It was a question I'd never really allowed myself to consider before. "I think I might have liked to be a teacher," I admitted. "Or maybe work with kids in some way. I always liked the idea of helping shape young minds, giving them the support and guidance I never had."

Blake's smile was sad, and I squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"But now I get to help shape this little mind," I said, dropping a kiss on the top of Amelia's head. "And maybe at the ranch clinic, I can make a difference in a way that feels right to me. Working with Booker to create a place where people can heal—body and mind. It's not what I thought my life would look like, but it's better. It's real."

I looked up to find Blake watching me with tears in her eyes. "I never thought of it that way."

"That's because you've always known who you are," I told her. "Even when you're struggling, you've never lost sight of that. You're an artist, Blake. It's not just what you do—it's who you are. And watching you find your way back to that has been incredible."

She wiped at her eyes, laughing softly. "Now I feel stupid for worrying."

"Don't," I said firmly. "It just shows you care."

"I do care," she whispered. "More than I ever thought was possible."

I held out my free arm, and she moved to sit beside me on the wider porch swing. She curled against my side, her head resting on my shoulder next to Amelia's. I wrapped my arms around them both, marveling at how perfectly they fit against me. Like they were always meant to be there.

"For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing," I told her, my voice low and sincere. "Not what anyone else told me I should do. Not what looks good on paper. But what feels right in my soul."

Blake's arm slid around my waist, her body warm against mine. "And what does that feel like?"

"Like coming home," I answered without hesitation. "Like finally finding where I belong."

---