27. Blake
Chapter 27
Blake
" Y ou need to get out of this house," Delaney announced, standing in my doorway with her hands on her hips.
She was wearing the determined expression I knew better than to argue with, her baby bump now prominently displayed at seven months along.
"I really don't," I said, bouncing Amelia gently against my shoulder. "I'm perfectly happy right here."
Amelia gurgled in agreement, or at least that's what I chose to believe. At this point, I was fluent in baby noises—a skill I never thought I'd acquire, let alone pride myself on.
"Blake Mitchell, you haven't left this cottage except to go to the grocery store in two weeks." Delaney strode in and plopped herself down on the couch like she owned the place, one hand resting on her rounded belly. "Girls' night. Tonight. Non-negotiable. Plus Emma got back from vacation and I have it on good authority that there’s an embarrassing story about Finn that she’s supposed to be taking to her grave."
I shot her a skeptical look.
"In case you haven't noticed, I've got a tiny human who depends on me for, oh, I don't know... survival?"
Delaney's eyes shifted to something behind me, and her face broke into a grin. "That's where your fake-but-maybe-not-so-fake fiancé comes in."
I turned to see Xander leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest, an amused smile playing on his lips. Traitor.
"Amelia and I will be fine for one evening," he said, crossing the room to us. "I think I can handle a bottle and a diaper."
"See?" Delaney looked smugly triumphant. "Doctor Dreamboat has it covered."
I rolled my eyes at the nickname, even as a flush of warmth spread through me at the gentle way Xander's hand came to rest on the small of my back. We'd been careful around others, maintaining our "just for show" story, but these little touches had become so natural that sometimes I forgot we were supposed to be pretending and which version was supposed to be pretend.
"I don't know..." I hesitated, looking down at Amelia's peaceful face. She'd fallen asleep against me, her tiny rosebud mouth slightly open, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. The thought of leaving her, even for a few hours, made my chest tight with anxiety.
Xander must have sensed my apprehension because he leaned in, his voice for my ears only. "You deserve a break, Blake. You've been amazing with her." The warmth of his breath against my ear sent a shiver down my spine. "Trust me, we'll be okay."
Trust me. Two words that should have been insignificant but somehow carried the weight of everything between us.
"Fine," I relented, carefully transferring Amelia to Xander's arms. She stirred but didn't wake, instantly settling against his chest like she belonged there. The sight made something inside me twist with an emotion I wasn't ready to name. "But I'm keeping my phone on, and you better call if anything—and I mean anything—happens."
"Scout's honor," Xander said with mock solemnity.
"Were you even a Scout?" I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.
"Not even close." His grin was unrepentant. "But I'll still call if she so much as hiccups wrong."
"Great!" Delaney exclaimed, already pulling me toward the bedroom.
"Now go get dressed in something that doesn't have baby spit-up on it. Reece and Emma are meeting us at Willowbrook Tavern in an hour."
I looked down at my clothes. She wasn't wrong—there was definitely a suspicious stain on my shoulder. When had that happened? And more importantly, when had I stopped caring?
"Do I even own clothes without baby bodily fluids on them anymore?" I muttered.
"I did laundry yesterday," Xander offered helpfully. "Your black top with the..." he gestured vaguely around his shoulders, "...flowy bits is hanging in the closet."
Delaney raised an eyebrow, looking between us with undisguised interest. "Well, well, well. Doing laundry now, are we? How domestic."
I shot her a warning look that she completely ignored.
"Go," Xander said, gently turning me toward the bedroom with his free hand. "Have fun. We'll be here when you get back."
We'll be here. The casual way he said it, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like we were a real family—it did things to my heart I wasn't prepared for.
So I did what I always did when emotions got too big. I deflected.
"I expect hourly updates at minimum, Farrington," I said over my shoulder.
His laugh followed me down the hallway, warm and rich, like everything about him. God, I was happy and I was starting to wonder why we were hiding it.
#
The Willowbrook Tavern was exactly what you'd expect from a small-town bar—rustic wooden furniture, a jukebox that hadn't been updated since 1997, and the faint smell of beer that had soaked into the floorboards over decades. But it was also cozy, with string lights crisscrossing the ceiling and booths tucked into corners that offered the illusion of privacy.
Reece waved us over to a corner table where she sat with Emma, a pitcher of something fruity-looking already between them.
"She's alive!" Reece declared as I slid into the booth. "We were beginning to think you'd been absorbed into the cottage, never to emerge again."
"It was a near thing," I admitted, gratefully accepting the glass Emma pushed my way. "I actually had to dust off these jeans. I think they've developed sentience in the back of my drawer."
Emma laughed, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I can't imagine going from free-spirited artist to instant mom. You're kind of my hero."
I nearly choked on my drink. "Hero? I'm just trying not to screw up too badly."
"Isn't that what parenting is?" Delaney said, pouring herself a glass of what I now noticed was non-alcoholic punch. "A series of attempts not to screw up too badly, punctuated by moments of sheer terror?"
We all laughed, and I felt the tension I'd been carrying around for weeks start to loosen its grip. I checked my phone for the third time in ten minutes, but no messages from Xander.
"They're fine," Delaney said gently, nudging my shoulder.
"Xander is probably the most competent man I've ever met, and I live with Trace, so that's saying something."
"I know, I know." I stuffed my phone back in my pocket, determined to be present.
"It's just... I've never been away from her for this long."
"First separation anxiety?" Emma asked sympathetically.
"Is it weird that I can’t wait for when Finn and I get to experience that?"
"Is it normal to feel like you've left a limb behind?" I asked, only half-joking.
The women nodded in unison, and even though Emma didn't have children, I appreciated the solidarity.
"So," Reece leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief, "now that we've established the baby is fine, let's talk about what's really important. What's going on with you and Dr. Dreamboat?"
I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. "Really? We're going there already? I thought I'd at least get through my first drink."
"Nope," Delaney said cheerfully, sipping her virgin punch. "That's the tax for getting out of the house. Spill."
I took a long sip of my drink, playing for time. The sweet, fruity concoction hit my system fast after weeks of nothing stronger than coffee.
"There's nothing to spill," I insisted. "We're just... cohabitating. Co-parenting. Co-existing."
"Co-bullshit," Reece coughed into her hand, not even trying to be subtle.
Emma leaned in, her blue eyes curious. "But I thought you two were engaged? That's what everyone in town is saying. The amount of times I’ve had to pretend to be busy at the counter so I can listen to gossip about you is wild. You wouldn’t believe how much of a gossip hub the florist shop is becoming."
Right. Our cover story. Except it didn't feel like a cover anymore, not after everything that had happened between us. The memory of Xander's hands on my skin, his mouth against mine, sent heat crawling up my neck.
"It's complicated," I hedged.
"Oh my god," Delaney gasped, staring at my face. "You slept with him!"
"Delaney!" I hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. The last thing I needed was for the Willowbrook gossip mill to get that particular tidbit.
"You did!" She clapped her hands in delight. "I knew it! When?"
The alcohol was already working its magic, loosening my tongue and lowering my defenses. "It was one time," I admitted quietly.
Billie and Reece exchanged gleeful looks.
"And?" Reece prompted.
"And what?"
"How was it?" all three women asked in unison.
I buried my face in my hands, but I couldn't stop the smile that crept across my lips. "It was... incredible, okay? Earth-shattering. Universe-altering. Are you happy now?"
They cheered so loudly that the bartender looked over in concern.
"Settle down, vultures," I muttered, but there was no heat behind it. It actually felt good to talk about it with someone. I'd been keeping so much bottled up, pretending that what was happening with Xander was just part of our arrangement, not something that was changing the foundations of my life.
"So, are you two actually together now? For real?" Billie asked, her expression genuinely interested. "Because you could do a lot worse than Xander. Trust me, I've known him since we were kids."
I traced the condensation on my glass with my finger, trying to find the right words. "I don't know what we are. We haven't really... talked about it. There was a moment after. Things were said, feelings were admitted, but then it’s like we went back to normal and we didn’t get going."
Delaney's eyebrows shot up. "You slept together, are raising a child together, living together, and you haven't talked about what you are to each other?"
When she put it like that, it did sound ridiculous.
"We're figuring it out," I defended. "Things have been... intense. With the DCFS stuff, and Amelia, and everything… else. We’re moving slow and I like that."
"If you wait for the perfect moment, you'll be waiting forever," Reece said sagely, twirling the straw in her drink.
"It's not just that," I admitted, the alcohol making me braver. "I'm scared."
"Of what?" Delaney asked softly.
I took a deep breath.
"Of ruining it. Of not being enough. Of him waking up one day and realizing that I'm just... me. Broke, chaotic, artistically blocked me."
"Oh, honey," Delaney reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Xander adores you. Anyone with eyes can see that."
"And the chaos is part of your charm," Emma added with a grin. "It was what drew me to you in the first place. Besides, I was dealing with a new shipment at the counter the other day and I heard Marianne telling Mrs Prescott that Xander never shuts up about you at work, and he can’t get out of there quick enough to get back to you."
"Really?" I couldn't stop the hopeful note in my voice.
"Really," Reece confirmed. "That man is head over heels. I'd bet Booker's ranch on it."
I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "I mean, he's pretty amazing with Amelia. Sometimes I watch him with her and I just..." I trailed off, unable to articulate the swell of emotions I felt in those moments.
"Go as slow as you need to feel comfortable," Delaney said, absentmindedly rubbing her baby bump. “Just don’t go so slow that you end up stopping and regretting it.”
Delaney was always the one who saw right through to the heart of what troubled me.
I shook my head. "Why can’t this be easy?"
"Love rarely is," Emma mused, then smiled apologetically when I gave her a startled look. "Sorry, did I say the L-word too soon?"
Had she? The thought had been circling my mind for weeks now, but I'd been too afraid to acknowledge it, even to myself. Did I love Xander? The answer rose up from somewhere deep inside me, clear and terrifying: Yes. Yes, I did.
"Oh god," I groaned, letting my head thunk against the table. "I'm in love with him."
The table erupted in cheers again, drawing more looks from nearby patrons.
"Can we please keep my emotional crisis to a moderate volume?" I pleaded, though I couldn't help but laugh.
"This calls for shots," Reece declared, already signaling the bartender.
"No, no, no," I protested. "I am a responsible mother now. I cannot come home drunk to my fake fiancé while he's watching our—I mean, my—baby."
But my protests fell on deaf ears as a tray of tequila shots appeared at our table. I checked my phone again—still nothing from Xander. No news was good news, right?
"One shot," Delaney insisted, pushing one toward me, while discreetly asking the server for water for herself. "To celebrate your emotional growth."
We clinked glasses and I threw back my shot as Delaney delicately sipped her ice water. The tequila burned down my throat, warming me from the inside out.
"So what are you going to do now?" Emma asked, her expression sincere.
"Absolutely nothing," I declared. "At least not yet. We've got enough going on without me throwing emotional confessions into the mix."
"Coward," Reece teased.
" Pragmatist ," I corrected. "Besides, what if he doesn't feel the same way?"
All three women gave me identical looks of exasperation.
"Enough about my love life," I declared, desperate to change the subject. "What's happening with everyone else? Delaney, how are the wedding plans coming along now that you've postponed until after the baby?"
Delaney brightened. "Actually, Trace and I have been discussing a Christmas ceremony. The colors will be gorgeous, and this little one will be old enough to participate." She smiled down at her bump. "We're thinking about a small ceremony at the ranch, nothing too elaborate."
"That sounds perfect," I said genuinely. "And the baby's room? Last time I saw it, Trace was still arguing about which shade of yellow was 'too aggressive.'"
Delaney laughed. "We compromised on a soft butter yellow with forest green accents. Very gender-neutral, which is what we wanted." She grinned conspiratorially. "Though between us, the ultrasound tech accidentally let it slip that we're having a boy."
"A boy!" we all exclaimed, and I felt a rush of happiness for my friend.
"Emma, don’t think we’ve forgotten that you’ve yet to tell us whatever it was that Finn did on vacation that you were sworn to secrecy about?" I reminded her, eager to keep the conversation moving away from my romantic entanglements.
As Emma launched into a story about Finn, a donkey and a miniature sombrero, I felt my phone vibrate. I dug it out of my pocket so fast I nearly knocked over my drink.
It was a photo from Xander—Amelia asleep on his chest, her tiny hand fisted in his shirt. The caption read: Missing you, but we're doing fine. Take your time.
Something in my chest melted at the sight. I traced the outline of his face on the screen, the tender way he held her, and I knew with absolute certainty that I was done for.
"Earth to Blake," Delaney waved a hand in front of my face. "You still with us?"
"Hmm? Oh, sorry." I tucked my phone away, trying to ignore the knowing smiles around the table.
"I was asking if you've been working on any new art," Delaney repeated. "For the show."
I winced. The gallery show. I'd almost managed to forget about that particular source of anxiety. "Not exactly. I've been sketching a bit, but nothing serious yet."
"What show?" Reece asked, perking up with interest.
I explained about the gallery offer and my years-long artistic block, surprised at how easily I could talk about it now. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was finally having friends who didn't judge me for my struggles.
"That's incredible though," Emma said.
"That they want to show your work."
"It would be, if I could actually produce anything worth showing," I sighed.
"Every time I sit in front of a canvas, I freeze up."
"You'll get there," Reece assured me. "Sometimes these things just need time."
"And speaking of time," I said, checking my watch, "I should probably head back soon. It's getting late."
"One more round," Delaney insisted.
"You barely get out as it is."
I relented, letting them order another pitcher.
The conversation flowed easily after that, moving from art to the ranch, to Reece's plans for introducing a riding program. It felt good to be just Blake for a while, not a parental figure, or fiancée, or struggling artist. Just me.
"Oh! I almost forgot to tell you guys," I said, the alcohol making me more animated than usual. "I had the weirdest dream last night. I was riding a bicycle down Main Street, and Toby was sitting in the basket in front, just like in The Wizard of Oz, and then you Delaney…."
"Who's Toby?" Emma asked, tilting her head curiously.
I froze, realizing my slip too late. The others looked equally confused.
"Um..." I stalled, taking a long sip of my drink. But the alcohol had loosened my tongue too much to come up with a convincing lie. "He's... kind of my dog?"
"You have a dog?" Delaney frowned. "Since when?"
"Well, not exactly," I hedged, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. "He's more of an... imaginary dog."
There was a beat of silence, and then Reece burst out laughing. "An imaginary dog? How old are you, six?"
"It's not that weird!" I defended, though even to my own ears, it sounded ridiculous. "I just... I always wanted a dog. And when I ride my bike around town, I pretend he's in the basket. It helps me think."
To my surprise, instead of more laughter, I was met with expressions ranging from amusement to... was that endearment?
"What breed is he?" Emma asked, completely straight-faced.
I blinked, not expecting the question. "Um, a Yorkie, I think? Something small enough to fit in a bicycle basket."
"Does he have a personality?" Delaney leaned in, genuinely interested now.
"He's very judgmental," I admitted, warming to the topic now that I wasn't being ridiculed.
"He gives me these looks when I'm being particularly self-destructive. And he loves the smell of coffee."
"Of course he does," Reece nodded, like this was the most normal conversation in the world.
"I can't believe you never told me about Toby," Delaney said, looking almost hurt.
"It's not exactly something you bring up in casual conversation," I pointed out. "'Hey, by the way, I have an imaginary dog that I talk to when I'm alone.' That's the kind of thing that gets you concerned glances and pamphlets about therapy."
"Does Xander know?" Emma asked with a sly grin.
The memory of accidentally mentioning Toby to him flashed through my mind, the way his lips had twitched with suppressed laughter before he politely pretended not to notice my slip.
"He might have overheard me talking to Toby once or twice," I admitted. "He was remarkably cool about it."
"Because he's in loooove," Reece sang, finishing off her drink.
I kicked her under the table, but I couldn't stop the smile spreading across my face. It felt good, this easy camaraderie, the ability to share something so silly and private without fear of judgment.
"I think it's cute," Emma decided. "Everyone needs someone to talk to, even if that someone is an imaginary Yorkie in a bicycle basket."
"I sketch him sometimes," I confessed, surprising myself with the admission. "In my art journal. He looks different depending on my mood—sometimes scruffy and wild, other times perfectly groomed with a little bow."
"To Toby," Delaney raised her glass in a toast, eyes twinkling with mischief. "The best imaginary dog in Willowbrook."
"To Toby," the others echoed, and I clinked my glass with theirs, laughing at the absurdity of it all.
"You guys are the worst," I said, but the warmth in my chest told a different story.
"You love us," Delaney said confidently.
And I did. Just like I loved the little family waiting for me back at the cottage. The thought sobered me, and I checked the time again.
"I really should get back," I said, gathering my things. "It's past Amelia's bedtime."
"And you miss them," Reece added knowingly.
I didn't even try to deny it. "Is that pathetic? That I can't even enjoy one night out without wanting to rush home?"
"It's not pathetic," Delaney assured me, squeezing my shoulder. "It's real."
Real. The word echoed in my head as we settled the bill and made our way outside. The night air was cool against my flushed skin, clearing some of the alcohol-induced fog from my mind.
"I had fun," I told the women as we prepared to part ways. "Thanks for dragging me out."
"Anytime," Emma said warmly. "We should do this regularly."
"Agreed," Reece nodded. "Girls' night once a month, minimum."
"I'll hold you to that," I promised, surprised to find I meant it.
Delaney offered to drive me home, and I gratefully accepted. As we pulled up in front of the cottage, I saw the soft glow of a lamp through the window. Xander was still up, waiting for me.
The thought made my heart do a little flip in my chest.
"Go on," Delaney nudged me. "Go home to your family."
Family. The word felt right in a way I hadn't expected. I leaned over and gave her a quick hug. "Thanks for everything tonight."
"Anytime," she echoed Emma’s words. "And Blake? Tell him how you feel again. Life's too short for maybes."
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and slipped out of the car. As I walked up the path to the cottage door, I felt a strange sense of homecoming. Not just to a place, but to people. To Xander and Amelia. To the life we were building, accidentally but beautifully.
I took a deep breath and opened the door, ready to face whatever came next. Because Delaney was right—life was too short for maybes. And maybe, just maybe, it was time to be brave.