21. Xander
Chapter 21
Xander
I never knew shopping could be so exhausting.
I sagged onto the sofa and rolled my head back to watch Blake gliding around the kitchen, Amelia in her arms as she emptied a shopping bag and started to look for places to put things away.
She made it all look so effortless.
Shopping for a kid had been the best fun I'd had in a long time, especially once I managed to persuade Blake to let me pick up the bill. Target was a dream come true, one-stop shop, and thank God because a full eighteen-hour shift at the hospital hadn't made my feet hurt as much as they did right now.
I might be getting soft, and something about that made me happy.
"If I can get Amelia to sleep, would you mind listening out for her for a little while?" Blake asked.
"Sure."
"Fantastic," Blake said, busying around the kitchen as she started making up a bottle.
"If I can get the nursery furniture made up before tonight, then I can get the rest of this stuff put away this evening..." Her voice trailed off, but I could see she was still running through a list of things that needed to get done in her head.
"Blake." She was still walking around the kitchen, shaking a bottle and not hearing me.
"Blake. Blake. BLAKE!"
Amelia started crying, and I winced.
"Sorry, I'm sorry." I got up and went to her side, cooing at Amelia. "Sorry, little bug. I didn't think."
She fussed for a minute and then settled as Blake gave her the bottle.
Blake was looking at me, and I found myself lost in her eyes.
"Xander..."
"Blake," I whispered back.
All I could think about was kissing her.
I was about to lean in closer when she added, "You wanted me for something."
"Yes. Right." I snapped back to attention.
"You don't have to do all that by yourself. Sit down, give Amelia her bottle, and let me start putting the furniture together."
"You don't have to do that."
"Let me be a big manly man, Blake. It will be good for my ego."
#
Two hours later, I was finally staring at a completed crib and flopping to the floor in relief.
"You okay down there?"
"This thing was designed by the devil and made in hell's sweatshop where screws are square and somehow still fit into round holes."
Blake laughed and passed me a bottle of water. "I didn't know what you'd want, so I brought this lame offering instead." Our fingers brushed as she handed me the bottle, and I felt that electric awareness that seemed to surge whenever we touched now.
"This is good." I gulped the cold water down, wondering how two hours of building a tiny bed could make me feel this dehydrated.
"I made dinner if you're ready to eat," Blake said.
"You didn't need to do that."
"Please, frozen pizza is my specialty."
I laughed and stood up with a groan. "I'm getting old. Don't tell Dex I said that," I added quickly.
When I walked out of the bedroom, I looked around in surprise, not recognizing the place. It looked softer. Like a family actually lived there. Not only had Blake somehow found the time to put away everything we'd bought, but she'd unpacked some of her own things. A soft rug in front of the couch, throw pillows. Even some lamps that were giving off a warm glow.
"I hope you don't mind," she said nervously.
"Blake, this place looks amazing."
"Yeah, the white clinical aesthetic you had going on didn't seem particularly family-friendly."
Then I looked over at the little kitchen table and saw it set with the pizza in the middle and a bowl of salad. I grinned at Blake, and she did that adorable blush again.
Amelia was in a high chair that we'd bought today, looking at a piece of bread in her chubby hand like it held all the answers to the world's problems. I found myself memorizing every detail of this moment – the way the evening light filtered through the windows, the soft clink of plates as Blake set them down, the gentle cooing sounds Amelia made while examining her soggy, gummed on bread. It felt like home in a way this cottage never had before.
We sat down and started to eat. It felt awkward, but there was also a strange comfortableness to it all. Like I was on the verge of something and just waiting to have the courage to step into it.
"The old clinic looks amazing," Blake blurted out. “You’re doing so much for this town. You should let some of them know about it.”
I shrugged feeling awkward at the thought of receiving any kind of praise. "It’s not that I don’t want to share it. I guess I’m just trying to figure out my path, how I fit into this place. I don't want to be defined by the worst moments in my life anymore. I want... fuck, I don't know what I want. Why is life so difficult? Being an adult is possibly the worst state of being."
Blake laughed. "I couldn't agree more. It's something I've avoided for years."
"Don't do that," I said gently. "Blake, you've done so much with your life. You've lived, you've created. You have a solid foundation of friends that you've built around you."
"And I'm broke, I don't have a proper job, I don't have an apartment," she said, counting them off on her fingers.
"I'm starting to think those things aren't as great as they make them out to be. Look at how royally I screwed all that up. I'm thirty-three, Blake, and I have no idea what I'm doing with my life or what I want out of it," I admitted.
She tipped her head to the side in thought, and I felt myself smiling.
"Let's make a pact," she suddenly said. "Let's just see where we go. See the chances presented to us and take a risk even if it makes us uncomfortable."
"Trust the current?"
"Trust the current," she agreed.
We finished eating in a companionable silence.
I watched her as she got up to clear the table.
The way she moved with such certainty while still managing to look like she was seconds away from breaking into dance.
She was chaos and calm all wrapped up in one pink-haired package, and I couldn't take my eyes off her.
When she bent down to wipe a smudge of something inexplicably orange from Amelia's cheek, the baby giggled and grabbed a fistful of her hair.
Blake didn't even flinch, just worked her fingers gently free with practiced patience. It was like she'd been doing this her whole life instead of just a few days.
"Where did you learn to be so good with her?" I asked.
Blake shrugged. "I guess I did a lot of this stuff when Delaney had Cade. She was so scared back then that the least I could do was try and take some of the burden off her. Besides as soon as I set eyes on Cade, I knew we were destined to be best friends."
"I wish I could have been there."
She waved her hand dismissively.
"I’m just glad that she finally made her way back here, that she finally got her family the way it was supposed to be. We can’t get back the stolen moments, but we can make sure the next ones are beautiful memories to fill in some of the gaps."
I didn’t have any answer for that.
Not really. She was right, but it was a hurt that still too fresh for me to able to accept it so easily.
“I never thought I’d want a family,” I admitted.
“Everything I ever knew about family was twisted and painful. But then I came back here and I saw what Trace and Delaney have made for themselves. I watched as Booker found that with Reece. And I think… I think there’s something to be had in this whole family thing after all.”
She watched me with such understanding eyes that I felt myself sink into her gaze.
I felt like a better man when she looked at me like she did.
Like maybe I could live up to the small smile of confidence she had on her lips.
"What?" I asked.
She shook her head, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"Nothing. Just... thank you. For all of this." She gestured vaguely around the room.
"For helping me with Amelia. For not judging me when I have no idea what I'm doing."
"Blake," I said softly, stepping closer to her, "if there's one thing I've learned, it's that none of us know what we're doing. We're all just pretending and hoping no one notices when we screw up."
"That's oddly comforting."
"I have my moments."
I glanced down at Amelia, who was starting to nod off in her high chair, her little eyelids fluttering as she fought to stay awake. I'd never seen anything so beautiful in my life.
"Let me give her a bath before she falls asleep completely," I said. "You've been on your feet all day too."
Blake looked like she was about to protest, then nodded. "You sure you know what you're doing?"
"Please. I'm a doctor," I said with mock indignation. "I think I can handle bathing an infant."
"Alright, Dr. Farrington," she said with a playful salute. "I'll be here if you need backup."
As I carried Amelia to the bathroom, I found myself humming softly, some half-remembered song from my own childhood. She blinked up at me with those trusting eyes, and something in my chest expanded, making it hard to breathe for a moment.
"Hey, little bug," I whispered. "How would you feel about us all being a family?"
Of course she didn’t answer, but something in my heart liked the sound of that idea.
A family.