Page 83 of The Secrets We Built Together

I settled back against the couch, Amelia warm and solid in my arms, Xander's steady presence beside me. My body still ached, my throat still hurt, and I was pretty sure I looked like a disaster, but in that moment, I couldn't remember ever feeling so content.

Maybe getting sick wasn't the worst thing after all. Sometimes it took being knocked flat on your back to realize exactly where you wanted to be standing when you got up again.

And I was exactly where I wanted to be.

Chapter 29

Blake

Irolled over in bed as bright sun filtered through a crack in the curtains, and I smiled. Even with Amelia waking up five times last night, I couldn't have been in a better mood. She'd let me sleep in for a little, giving in to her exhaustion at five this morning.

The clock on the nightstand showed it was already past nine, and I grinned. It was finally Wednesday, and I wasn't infected with any germs. Today was my first official meeting as a member of the Wednesday Lunch Club, and I couldn't be late.

"You awake?"

I looked up to see Xander standing in the doorway. As if he'd been speaking to her, Amelia pulled herself up on the side of her crib, apparently wide awake, and squealed. She looked straight at me and reached out with grabby hands. My heart did a stupid little flip at the sight.

"I'm alive," I confirmed, sitting up with a groan. "But tired."

Xander crossed the room, plucked Amelia out of her crib, and placed her beside me. "You still look a little pale. Are you sure you should be going out today?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Don't you dare try to doctor me. Ihadthe flu, and I've been fine for days. I'm only tired because this little miss decided she wanted to party all night last night. If I don't get out, I'm going to start chewing on the furniture."

He laughed, the sound warming me from the inside out. "I wouldn't dream of trying to stop you. I've seen what happens when someone tries to get between you and your social calendar."

"Wise man." I reached for Amelia, who practically threw herself into my arms. She was getting bigger by the day.

The comfortable domesticity of the moment should have made me happy, but instead, it sent a spike of anxiety through my chest. This was exactly what I'd been dreading—how normal everything felt between us, how easily we fell into these patterns of caring for each other. Like nothing had changed since my fever-induced confession.

Except everything had changed. At least for me.

I love you.The words had tumbled out of me when I was sick and vulnerable, my defenses stripped away by fever and exhaustion. I'd seen the look on Xander's face—surprise, something that might have been hope, maybe even tenderness. But then I'd recovered, and we'd both pretended it never happened.

"Blake?" Xander's voice pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. "You okay? You look like you're about to be sick again."

"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just thinking about all the gossip I'm about to hear."

He studied my face for a moment longer, and I held my breath, wondering if he'd push. If he'd finally bring up what I'd said.Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead in a gentle kiss that made my heart race and my stomach clench with anxiety at the same time.

"Have fun with the lunch club ladies," he said. "Try not to let them corrupt you too much."

Too late for that,I thought, watching him leave the room. I was already corrupted—corrupted by hope, by the dangerous belief that maybe this fake engagement had become something real for both of us.

But what if it hadn't? What if I'd misread everything, and those three little words were hanging between us like a sword waiting to fall?

Forty-five minutes later, I was showered, dressed, and feeling almost like a functioning member of society again. I'd opted for a cute sundress—one of the few pieces of clothing I owned that wasn't splattered with paint—and had even managed to tame my pink hair into something that looked intentionally messy rather than just plain messy.

Xander whistled as I emerged from the bedroom. "Wow. Should I be jealous of these lunch club ladies?"

I rolled my eyes, but secretly preened at the appreciation in his gaze. "Absolutely. Mrs. Schulster is a total cougar. She'll eat me alive."

He laughed, crossing the room to pull me against him. "Be nice. That woman terrified all of us in eighth grade."

"And here I thought big, strong Dr. Farrington wasn't afraid of anything." I smirked up at him, my fingers playing with the collar of his shirt, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened at his proximity.

"Oh, I'm afraid of plenty of things," he said, suddenly serious. "Losing you and Amelia tops the list."

My heart stuttered. The words were so close to what I wanted to hear, but they felt safe somehow. Like something he couldsay without crossing the line we'd drawn around my feverish confession.

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