Page 79 of The Secrets We Built Together

"Empty," I admitted. "But not actively revolting anymore."

"Progress," he said with an encouraging smile. "Think you could manage some soup?"

My stomach growled in answer, and Xander's smile widened.

"I'll take that as a yes. I've got chicken noodle simmering. Delaney dropped it off earlier."

"Delaney was here?" I tried to imagine what I must look like right now. Probably like something a cat would drag in and then immediately drag back out again because it was too disgusting.

"She wanted to check on you," he said, helping me sit up straighter. "And bring supplies. I think half the town knows you're sick now."

"Great," I groaned. "So much for my cool, artistic mystique."

Xander laughed. "I think your pink hair pretty much shot that mystique in the foot a long time ago."

"Excuse you, my hair is the epitome of artistic mystique."

"If you say so." But his eyes were warm with amusement and something softer that made my heart do a pathetic little flutter.

He helped me to the bathroom, where I caught sight of myself in the mirror and immediately regretted it. I looked like I'd been dragged backward through a hedge and then left out in the rain. My pink hair was a tangled mess, my skin was sallow except for two bright fever spots on my cheeks, and my eyes were glassy and red-rimmed.

"Don't judge me," I told my reflection. "It's been a rough day."

After using the toilet and splashing some cold water on my face, I felt marginally more human. Xander was waiting outside the door, ready to help me back to bed, but I shook my head.

"Can I go to the living room? I'm tired of staring at these four walls."

He hesitated, and I could practically see him weighing the medical pros and cons. "Alright," he finally agreed. "But you're taking the blanket."

I didn't argue as he wrapped the comforter around my shoulders and guided me to the couch. He got me settled with pillows, water, and the TV remote before heading to the kitchen to heat up the soup.

I spaced out until he was standing in front of me with a bowl in one hand.

"You've been juggling work and baby duty all day," I realized, guilt washing over me. "I'm sorry."

He sat beside me, handing me the soup. "Don't be ridiculous. We're a team, remember? When one of us is down, the other picks up the slack."

"Still," I said, carefully blowing on a spoonful of broth. "I know you had that big call today, and probably a million other things to do for the clinic."

"It's fine," he assured me. "The call went well, and everything else can wait. You and Amelia come first."

Such a simple statement, but it hit me like a physical force.You and Amelia come first. No one had ever put me first before. Not my parents, certainly. Even with Delaney and Trace, as much as they loved me, they had each other and Cade. They were a family unit, and I was the beloved addition. But here was Xander, rearranging his entire day, his work, his life, to take care of me and Amelia without a second thought.

Because we were his family now.

"Blake?" His voice cut through my thoughts. "You okay? You're looking a little teary."

"It's just the fever," I lied, quickly taking another spoonful of soup. "Makes me emotional."

He looked unconvinced but didn't press. Instead, he turned on the TV, finding some mindless home renovation show with the volume low. We sat in comfortable silence as I slowly made my way through the soup, each spoonful requiring more effort than it should have.

As if on cue, Amelia began to stir in our room, making those adorable little grunting noises that preceded either a full-blown cry or a spectacular diaper blowout.

"I've got her," Xander said, setting my empty bowl aside and standing up. My heart ached at the sight of him walking back into the room with Amela in his arms. "Hey there, little bit. Did you have a good nap?"

I watched as he lifted her with practiced ease, checking her diaper with the fluid motions of someone who'd done it a hundred times. When had that happened? When had Xander become so comfortable, so natural with her?

"Ah, I think we might need a change," he announced, grabbing the diaper bag. "And then probably a bottle. You hungry, sweetheart? Ready for some lunch?"

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