Page 63 of The Secrets We Built Together

"I'll take the first watch," Xander said from behind me.

I turned to face him. "I can stay with her."

"You've been up with her all day. Get some rest, and I'll wake you in a couple of hours to switch. You can take my bed."

I wanted to argue, but exhaustion was starting to catch up with me. "Wake me if her fever goes up at all," I insisted.

He nodded. "Of course."

I hesitated at the doorway, looking back at him. He'd already pulled the rocking chair closer to the crib, his focus entirely on Amelia now. Something about the sight—his broad shoulders silhouetted in the dim nightlight, his posture alert yet gentle as he watched over her—made my chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with our disagreement.

"Xander," I said softly. "I know you're trying to do what's best for her. I just... I can't bear to see her hurting."

He looked up, his expression softening. "I know. That's what makes you such a good mother to her." He paused. "We both want what's best. We just see different paths to get there."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak further. As I made my way back to my bedroom, I realized this was our first real test as co-parents—not the logistics of feeding schedules or diaper changes, but the fundamental question of how to approach raising her. If we couldn't agree on something as basic as how to treat a fever, how would we handle the bigger decisions that would inevitably come?

The thought kept me awake long after I should have been sleeping.

#

Morning brought a welcome surprise. I awoke with a start, realizing Xander had never woken me for my shift. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, and for a moment, I was disoriented. Had I slept through Amelia's cries? I threw off the covers and hurried to the room we shared, only to find it empty.

Following the sounds of quiet conversation, I found them in the kitchen. Xander was at the stove with Amelia balanced on his hip. She was pale but alert, watching with apparent fascination as he flipped a pancake one-handed.

"Look who's awake," he said to her, nodding in my direction. "Should we tell her the good news?"

Amelia turned to look at me, and when she saw me, her face lit up in a weak but genuine smile.

"Her fever broke around four this morning," Xander explained, his voice deliberately neutral. "She's been keeping down small amounts of formula, and she seems much more comfortable."

I crossed the kitchen to touch her forehead, relief washing over me when I felt her cool skin. "Thank goodness," I breathed, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You had us worried, little one."

Xander slid the pancake onto a waiting plate. "I've been monitoring her temperature every hour. It's been normal since dawn."

I looked up at him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes. "You didn't wake me."

He shrugged. "You needed the rest, and we were doing okay, weren't we, bug?" He bounced Amelia gently, earning a soft, quiet babble in response.

I should have been grateful. He'd stayed up all night to let me sleep, and Amelia was clearly on the mend. Instead, I felt a complicated mix of emotions: relief at her recovery, guilt that I hadn't been the one to comfort her through the night, andlingering frustration that he'd made unilateral decisions about her care.

"You should have woken me," I said, my voice stiffer than I'd intended. "We agreed to take shifts."

Xander sighed, transferring Amelia to my arms. "She was restless for a while after you went to bed. I didn't want to wake you until I was sure she was stable." He turned back to the stove, adding batter for another pancake. "Besides, I've worked plenty of overnight shifts. My body's used to it."

I snuggled Amelia close, breathing in her familiar baby scent, now free from the sour smell of sickness. "And the Tylenol?" I couldn't help asking. "Did you end up giving her any?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "No. The bath helped enough to get her comfortable, and then her body did the rest. Just like I said it would."

The hint of "I told you so" in his tone wasn't lost on me. "This time," I acknowledged, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. "But if it had gotten worse—"

"Then I would have given her the medicine," he finished for me. "I never said I wouldn't under any circumstances. I just wanted to try the conservative approach first."

I bounced Amelia gently, burying my face in her wispy hair to hide my expression. Part of me knew he was right, that his medical training gave him insights I didn't have. But another part—the part that had been solely responsible for Amelia these past weeks—bristled at having my instincts dismissed.

"We need to be on the same page with her care," I finally said, looking up to meet his eyes. "We can't afford to look like we don't know what we're doing with DCFS."

Xander flipped the second pancake before turning to face me fully. "I agree. But being on the same page doesn't mean you always defer to my judgment, or I to yours. It means we communicate and make decisions together."

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