Chapter Nineteen
Kendall
The Lamaze class instructor—whose name I've already forgotten despite her introducing herself three times—demonstrates another breathing technique that's supposed to make labor feel like "riding a wave" instead of "being hit by a truck."
I'm skeptical.
But I breathe anyway, because what else am I going to do? Aleksi's beside me on the yoga mat, legs crossed, hands resting on his knees like he's about to meditate his way into fatherhood. He's the only dad in the room who looks genuinely excited about pelvic floor exercises.
"Okay, partners," the instructor says. "Let's practice the supportive touch we talked about. Dads, place your hand on mama's lower back and apply gentle pressure."
Aleksi shifts closer, his palm warm and steady against the small of my back. The pressure is perfect—firm enough to ground me, soft enough not to feel invasive.
"Like this?" he asks quietly.
I nod, eyes closed, trying to ignore the way my pulse kicks up every time he touches me.
"Great," the instructor says, walking past us. "You two are naturals."
Aleksi grins at me, all sunshine and pride, and I have to look away before I do something stupid like cry in the middle of a breathing exercise.
By the time class ends, I'm exhausted in that good, productive way. Like I've actually accomplished something. Aleksi rolls up our mats while I grab my water bottle, and we shuffle out with the rest of the couples, all of us waddling in solidarity.
"That wasn't so bad," I say as we reach his car.
"You almost elbowed me during the hip openers," he says, opening the passenger door for me.
"You were encroaching on my personal space."
"I was providing lumbar support."
I roll my eyes but smile as I slide into the seat. He closes the door gently, like I'm made of glass, and jogs around to the driver's side.
The drive starts out quiet, the city glowing soft in the early evening light. I lean my head against the window, watching Seattle blur past—coffee shops, bookstores, a dog walker juggling four leashes like a circus act.
Then Aleksi takes a turn I don't recognize.
I frown. "This isn't the way to my apartment."
"I know," he says, far too casual.
"Aleksi."
"Just trust me. Small detour."
I narrow my eyes at him, but he's already grinning, and I know—know—that whatever this is, I'm not going to win.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
Twenty minutes later, we pull through Vivi and Isla’s gated community, but we don’t take the visitor entrance. We take the resident side and instantly the gates open for us.
“We’re going to Trey’s house? Did you get a permanent pass?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
We turn onto a tree-lined street that looks like it was ripped straight out of a home-and-garden magazine. Maples arch overhead, their leaves just starting to turn gold. The houses are all huge with wide porches and actual yards. The kind of things that don't exist in my studio apartment universe.
He slows in front of a soft gray-blue house with white shutters and a For Sale sign out front that reads PENDING in bold red letters.
My stomach flips. "What are we doing here?"
"Taking a look around." He parks and cuts the engine. "It's a stroller walk from Vivi's and you can practically throw a rock into Isla's backyard from the back fence."
I blink at him. "You want me to look at a house I can't afford?"
"Just humor me." He's already out of the car, heading toward the lockbox on the front door.
I unbuckle slowly, my brain scrambling to catch up. Aleksi punches in a code, retrieves a key, and unlocks the door like he's done this a hundred times.
"I don't understand why we’re going into this house," I say as he pushes the door open to reveal a gorgeous foyer, beautiful hardwood floors, high ceilings. The smell of fresh paint and carpet cleaner reaches my nose. Light pouring through windows makes the whole space feel like a movie. Every room is fully furnished but doesn’t look lived in, as if it’s brand new and staged, but not in an uncomfortable, professional staging way.
We pass by a formal dining room with a table for ten. An office with a desk I would kill to work from home when the baby gets here. A powder room, formal sitting room and a living room.
This is a house far bigger than anything I've ever imagined owning. Even on a team doctor's salary, I could never afford a house in this neighborhood. It's for tech giants and pro athletes with multi-millions. Guys like Trey and Aleksi who can afford this kind of life.
"We're just taking a look around," he says, holding the door wider for me to step through. "Trey knows the realtor. Keep an open mind, okay?"
I step inside, and my breath catches.
I follow him through the last space downstairs, a massive kitchen gleaming with white cabinets and butcher-block counters, and there's a window over the sink that frames the backyard like a painting. And the kind of kitchen and eating nook that’s big enough to host thanksgiving dinners for the entire team.
Even the fridge is stocked with unopened food. Aleksi chuckles to himself and mutters “figures she would…” when he glances over my shoulder inside the state of the art fridge.
"Aleksi…" My voice comes out softer than I mean it to. "This is stunning… and way out of my budget."
"Just look around," he says gently. "No pressure."
I move through the space slowly, taking in every detail. And then I see the stairs.
Aleksi motions for me to go first.
"We’re going up to the second story?" I ask, not completely sure if I want to see anymore since I’m already falling in love with the house and I know this is so far out of my grasp that it’s almost mean of him to have brought me here.
"And a third story… if you want." he says behind me, amused. But it’s mostly just a gym, theater room, and a full guest suite with its own bathroom up there.
How does he know that?
I climb slowly, one hand on the railing, the other on my belly. The second floor opens into a hallway with four doors. I peek into the first two—both are guest rooms, soft and neutral. The third door is a bathroom with a clawfoot tub that makes me want to dissolve into bubbles immediately.
And then I open the fourth, which has double doors.
I freeze.
The master bedroom is flooded with light from two large windows that overlook the backyard.
A stunning king size bed with a cream colored duvet sits on one side of the room, a matching dresser sits on the opposite side,and there’s a chase chair in another corner with a soft blanket that looks like a great place to unwind and read a book…
or work player charts with a cup of Leena’s tea.
It's the kind of room that feels like a sanctuary after long travel days with the team.
But it's the door off to the side that stops my heart.
"What's that?" I whisper.
"A nursery," Aleksi says quietly from the doorway.
I cross the room and push the door open.
The nursery is small but perfect. Cream walls. White trim. A window that lets in just enough light with black out curtains tucked to the side. And then I see it. The crib Aleksi bought… the rocking chair… the stuffed narwhal and books that Leena sent me last month.
My throat tightens.
"Aleksi…" I turn to him, and I don't even know what I'm trying to say. "Why are we here?"
He steps closer, hands in his pockets, eyes soft. "Because I wanted you to see it. To see what it could be. What you could have."
"For who?"
"For you and the baby. And maybe one day… for us. But I’m not going to ask you for that yet. This is just about you right now."
The word lands like a stone in still water, ripples spreading before I can stop them.
"Aleksi, I can't—" I shake my head, panic rising. "I can't afford this. Not even close. This is—this is your world, not mine."
"It could be ours," he says, and there's no hesitation in his voice. No doubt. Just quiet, stubborn certainty.
I stare at him, my pulse hammering. "You're serious."
"I'm always serious about you."
My chest aches. I want to say yes. I want to throw my arms around him and cry and let myself believe that this beautiful home could actually be ours. That this is the house I could bring our newborn baby home from the hospital in.
But fear claws its way up my throat.
“I can’t afford it.”
“I know. I already bought it for you and the baby,” he says.
“I can't let you do this for me…it’s so much more than I can repay you for.”
“You’re giving me a son, Kendall. That’s more than enough. And I think you’ll like the last part.”
“What’s that?”
“I didn’t buy you the house. It’s in a trust for him but you’re the trustee.
So in a way, you don’t owe me anything. It’s his…
for you to build a family for him in. The safety you never had.
A roof over his head that you’ll never have to worry about.
I see him scraping his knee out on the sidewalk outfront, him falling out of his first tree in the backyard… birthday parties in that kitchen.”
"I don't—" I swallow hard. "I don't know how to do this, Aleksi. I don't know how to let you—"
"Then let me show you," he says, stepping closer. His hand finds mine, warm and steady. "Let me show you what it looks like when someone stays."
Tears blur my vision. I press my free hand to my mouth, trying to hold it together, but it's no use.
"I'm scared," I whisper.
"I know." His thumb brushes over my knuckles. "But I'm not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever."
My eyes catch on something on the wall. Something I know so well, it used to be hanging up in my apartment until Aleksi took it a week ago.
The framed stars.
I walk over and run a finger over the frame.
“You took it to put in here.”
“It’s perfect don’t you think? Now he just needs a name.”
He’s right. This baby is going to be here in four months and he still doesn’t have a name.
I think hard about what feels right. Aleksi just bought our son a house and I haven’t even given our son a name.