Page 75 of The Secrets We Built Together

Delaney laughed. "We compromised on a soft butter yellow with forest green accents. Very gender-neutral, which is what we wanted." She grinned conspiratorially. "Though between us, the ultrasound tech accidentally let it slip that we're having a boy."

"A boy!" we all exclaimed, and I felt a rush of happiness for my friend.

"Emma, don’t think we’ve forgotten that you’ve yet to tell us whatever it was that Finn did on vacation that you were sworn to secrecy about?" I reminded her, eager to keep the conversation moving away from my romantic entanglements.

As Emma launched into a story about Finn, a donkey and a miniature sombrero, I felt my phone vibrate. I dug it out of my pocket so fast I nearly knocked over my drink.

It was a photo from Xander—Amelia asleep on his chest, her tiny hand fisted in his shirt. The caption read: Missing you, but we're doing fine. Take your time.

Something in my chest melted at the sight. I traced the outline of his face on the screen, the tender way he held her, and I knew with absolute certainty that I was done for.

"Earth to Blake," Delaney waved a hand in front of my face. "You still with us?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry." I tucked my phone away, trying to ignore the knowing smiles around the table.

"I was asking if you've been working on any new art," Delaney repeated. "For the show."

I winced. The gallery show. I'd almost managed to forget about that particular source of anxiety. "Not exactly. I've been sketching a bit, but nothing serious yet."

"What show?" Reece asked, perking up with interest.

I explained about the gallery offer and my years-long artistic block, surprised at how easily I could talk about it now. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was finally having friends who didn't judge me for my struggles.

"That's incredible though," Emma said. "That they want to show your work."

"It would be, if I could actually produce anything worth showing," I sighed. "Every time I sit in front of a canvas, I freeze up."

"You'll get there," Reece assured me. "Sometimes these things just need time."

"And speaking of time," I said, checking my watch, "I should probably head back soon. It's getting late."

"One more round," Delaney insisted. "You barely get out as it is."

I relented, letting them order another pitcher. The conversation flowed easily after that, moving from art to the ranch, to Reece's plans for introducing a riding program. It felt good to be just Blake for a while, not a parental figure, or fiancée, or struggling artist. Just me.

"Oh! I almost forgot to tell you guys," I said, the alcohol making me more animated than usual. "I had the weirdest dream last night. I was riding a bicycle down Main Street, and Toby was sitting in the basket in front, just like in The Wizard of Oz, and then you Delaney…."

"Who's Toby?" Emma asked, tilting her head curiously.

I froze, realizing my slip too late. The others looked equally confused.

"Um..." I stalled, taking a long sip of my drink. But the alcohol had loosened my tongue too much to come up with a convincing lie. "He's... kind of my dog?"

"You have a dog?" Delaney frowned. "Since when?"

"Well, not exactly," I hedged, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. "He's more of an... imaginary dog."

There was a beat of silence, and then Reece burst out laughing. "An imaginary dog? How old are you, six?"

"It's not that weird!" I defended, though even to my own ears, it sounded ridiculous. "I just... I always wanted a dog. And when I ride my bike around town, I pretend he's in the basket. It helps me think."

To my surprise, instead of more laughter, I was met with expressions ranging from amusement to... was that endearment?

"What breed is he?" Emma asked, completely straight-faced.

I blinked, not expecting the question. "Um, a Yorkie, I think? Something small enough to fit in a bicycle basket."

"Does he have a personality?" Delaney leaned in, genuinely interested now.

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