Page 89 of The Secrets We Built Together

I turned to a fresh page and tried to sketch what I hoped we could become. The three of us together, no careful distance, no unspoken tension. Just a family who had figured out how to be honest with each other.

The sun had risen higher in the sky since I'd first started sketching, warming the air around us. I checked on Amelia, making sure she was still comfortable in the dappled shade, then closed my sketchbook.

"I think we might be in trouble, kiddo," I whispered to her. "I’m not sure I know how to do all this without him now."

I glanced at my watch and realized we'd been out longer than I'd intended. It was already past noon, and Susan would be arriving in just a couple of hours. I needed to get back, get Amelia fed and changed, and make sure everything was perfect for the visit.

More importantly, I needed to find the courage to have the conversation that had been three days in the making.

I packed up our things, carefully tucking my sketchbook back into the diaper bag. Amelia woke as I lifted her, fussing a little, but she settled when I held her close, humming softly as I headed back toward the cottage.

As we approached, I saw Xander on the porch, shading his eyes with one hand as he looked out toward us. When he spotted us, his face broke into a smile, but I could see the careful quality to it now. The way he was holding back, just like I was.

My heart did that strange flip it seemed to do whenever he looked at me, but now it was tinged with uncertainty. Did he smile at me like that because he loved me too, or because he was trying to figure out how to let me down easy?

"We need to talk," I whispered, giving myself a pep-talk as I walked toward him. "We need to talk about what I said, and I need to be brave enough to hear his answer, whatever it is."

And for the first time in days, I thought maybe I could find that courage.

Maybe I had to.

Chapter 31

Xander

I'd never been this nervous in my entire life, and considering I'd gone through my medical residency and had people's literal lives in my hands, that was saying a lot. My stomach churned as I paced the living room, my socked feet making soft shuffling sounds against the hardwood floor. Each time I passed the window, I found myself pausing to peer out, checking for any sign of Susan's car in the driveway.

"She said 2:30 right?"

"She's probably running late," Blake said.

She sounded just as nervous as I was, but the longer the time stretched out, the more my heart felt like it was climbing up my throat. I was supposed to be the calm one. I was trained to be able to work through the pressure. Although we all knew how that turned out.

"You need to sit down," Blake said from the couch where she had Amelia standing on her lap, her tiny feet pressing into Blake's thighs as Blake steadied her with gentle hands. "Isn't thatright, Amelia? Tell Xander he needs to stop wearing a path in the floor."

Amelia gurgled in response, a string of drool slipping down her chin which Blake deftly caught with the corner of a soft cloth. The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, catching in Amelia's wispy hair and turning it to spun gold.

"How are you so calm?" I asked, going to look out the window for what had to be the tenth time. The gravel driveway remained stubbornly empty except for our vehicles and the flutter of a few birds pecking at something near the garden bed.

Blake tipped her head back so she was looking at me over the back of the couch, her pink hair falling away from her face. Those expressive eyes of hers held a hint of amusement despite the tension in the air. "Would it help you if I said I was screaming on the inside?"

"Hugely."

"Cool. I'm a mess of emotions, weeping and screaming in my head, but I'm trying to pretend to be a normal human being for the next hour because if I break down now, I might never pull myself together again."

"I changed my mind. That doesn't make me feel better."

I moved to the couch and sat down beside her, the cushion dipping under my weight. The scent of Blake's shampoo—something floral and clean—mingled with the baby powder smell of Amelia. It was becoming a familiar combination, one that I found myself seeking out whenever I was around them.

The elephant in the room sat between us like a living thing. Blake's feverish confession from a few days ago hung in the air, unaddressed but impossible to ignore. Every time our eyes met, I could see the uncertainty there, the question of whether she'd meant what she said or if it had just been the fever talking. And every time I opened my mouth to bring it up, the words died in my throat.

"It's going to be alright?" I offered weakly.

"See, the way you posed that as a question just makes me think it won't be."

I reached for her hand, threading our fingers together. The simple contact sent warmth up my arm, and I saw her breath catch slightly. "We'll get through this," I said more firmly. "Whatever happens, no one is taking Amelia away from us."

Blake's eyes searched mine, and I could see her wrestling with something. "Xander, about what I said when I was sick—"

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