Page 67 of Daddy's Dirty Little Secret

I felt full in every way a person could be full.

Later, after the sun dipped behind the trees and the fairy lights were the only thing keeping the yard from going dark, Xander took my hand and guided me toward the edge of the garden.

We sat on a bench away from the crowd, watching the last of the guests filter out. My feet ached and my back was tired, but none of that mattered. The weight of his hand in mine was grounding, and the way he looked at me told me I wasn’t the only one quietly amazed we’d made it here.

“You did it,” I said. “You made it through a wedding without any corporate emergencies or fire drills.”

“There’s still time,” he replied. “Let’s not tempt fate.”

I leaned my head against his shoulder and sighed. “I think this was the happiest day of my life.”

“I think it’s just the start.”

For once, I didn’t worry about what came next. Not the nursery or the baby clothes or the long nights ahead. I didn’t worry about how we’d juggle work and parenthood or who would do the dishes or if we’d argue over things like curtains and bedtime schedules.

I just sat there, full of cake and love and the kind of quiet peace that doesn’t demand anything more than this—him, me, and the life we’d chosen together.

Claire found us eventually, dragging Julia with her, both of them carrying Tupperware full of leftovers and already arguing about baby shower themes.

“Don’t forget to hydrate!” Claire warned as she handed me a water bottle.

Julia pressed a kiss to my cheek and grinned. “You’re glowing, Amelia.”

I smiled at them both and tucked myself a little closer to Xander.

“I really am.”

Three months later

The hospital room was quiet except for the slow, steady beep of the monitor beside the bed. Outside the window, early morning light poured over the skyline, soft and warm against the white blinds. I could hear the faint shuffle of nurses at the station down the hall and the occasional squeak of rubber soles as someone passed by the doorway.

My entire world had narrowed to the small bassinet a few feet from my bed—and the warm, steady presence of the man sitting beside me.

Xander had barely moved in the past hour. One hand rested on the edge of the bassinet while the other propped up his chin. His eyes were fixed on the tiny, sleeping bundle inside like he still didn’t believe she was real. I couldn’t blame him. I had been holding her all night and I still wasn’t sure any of this had really happened.

Our daughter.

The words still felt new, like trying on a name I hadn’t earned yet. Everything about her seemed impossible. The way her fingers curled into little fists, how her nose wrinkled when she yawned, the perfect swirl of dark hair on the top of her head. She was seven pounds, four ounces of absolute wonder. And I was already wrapped around her tiny, wrinkled finger.

Xander reached down and adjusted the edge of the pink blanket tucked around her. He didn’t say anything. He hadn’t said much since she was born, just short, quiet sentences when the nurses asked questions, or when the doctor gave updates. It wasn’t like him to be this still. But watching him now, I understood. This wasn’t stillness. It was awe. Maybe even disbelief. We had talked about this moment for months, but living it was something else entirely.

He finally looked up and met my eyes. There were dark circles under his, and his stubble had grown into something just past charming. His tie from yesterday hung loose around his neck. His jacket was nowhere to be seen.

“She’s asleep again,” he said, his voice low and tired.

“I think she likes the sound of your voice,” I said, smiling softly.

He glanced back at the bassinet, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That makes one of us.”

I shifted carefully against the pillows and reached for the water on my tray. The soreness from labor was still present, a dull ache that stretched across my lower back and hips, but itfelt distant now. I was too full of adrenaline and emotion to let it distract me.

“I thought you’d fall apart,” I said, sipping slowly. “You’ve handled this better than I have.”

Xander raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who pushed a human out of your body, and you’re saying I’ve got the harder job?”

“You looked more nervous than I felt.”

“I was terrified,” he admitted, sitting back in the chair. “Every time a monitor beeped, I thought something was wrong. And when she finally came out, I just stood there like an idiot, waiting for someone to tell me what to do.”

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