42. Xander
Chapter 42
Xander
I sat on the porch of our cottage, Amelia curled against my chest as I read through patient files on my tablet.
She'd fallen asleep after fighting it for nearly an hour, her little body finally surrendering to exhaustion while I swayed and hummed against her ear. Even asleep, her tiny hand clutched the fabric of my shirt like she was afraid I might disappear if she let go.
It was my favorite way to end the day—holding our daughter close, breathing in the sweet baby-powder scent of her skin, feeling her little heartbeat against mine.
Our daughter.
The thought hit me sometimes with a force that took my breath away. Madison had made it official when she signed the adoption papers. Amelia was ours now, legally and in every way that mattered. The family we'd pretended to be had somehow become real when none of us was looking.
I glanced through the window where I could see Blake at the kitchen table, sketching furiously in the dim evening light.
Her hair was piled messily on top of her head, and she had a smudge of charcoal on her cheek.
There were dark circles under her eyes from late nights in the studio, but she looked more alive than I'd seen her in months. Her gallery show was in three weeks, and she'd been working around the clock to finish her collection.
A pang of guilt hit me as I watched her.
I should go inside, offer to take Amelia for the night, make sure Blake got some sleep.
But I was selfishly enjoying these quiet moments with my daughter, stealing a few minutes of peace before plunging back into the chaos of our lives.
From inside, I heard Blake's phone ring. She answered with her usual cheerful "Hello" that quickly morphed into excited chatter. It was probably Delaney calling about the babysitting schedule we'd worked out to give Blake more studio time.
I closed my eyes and leaned back in the rocking chair, letting the gentle motion soothe both Amelia and me.
The evening air was cool against my skin, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and distant rain.
The late spring was turning quickly toward summer, with wildflowers dotting the pastures beyond our cottage and fireflies beginning to appear at dusk.
I'd never imagined that my life would look like this—that I'd find contentment in these small, quiet moments.
The screen door creaked open, and I opened my eyes to see Blake stepping onto the porch.
Her expression was serious as she leaned against the railing, studying me with a thoughtful gaze.
"That was the gallery," she said, nodding toward the phone in her hand.
"She wanted to know if I could photograph some more of the paintings for the promotional materials tomorrow. They're printing the catalog this weekend."
"I can help," I offered immediately. "I can make some time in the morning when the light is good."
Blake's frown deepened, her fingers twisting together anxiously. "You’re always doing that."
"What?"
"Offering to take on more so I can work. Giving up your things for mine."
I shifted Amelia gently so I could look at Blake more directly. "That's what partners do, Blake. They support each other."
"But what about your work? The clinic is about to open, and you're spending all your time taking care of Amelia and running errands for me. And you haven’t said anything about the practice. About what you want to do." She pushed away from the railing and began to pace, her movements jerky with agitation. "I feel like you're putting your life on hold because of me."
I watched her pace, understanding dawning slowly. This wasn't just about tomorrow's errand. This was about something bigger.
"Blake," I said softly, not wanting to wake Amelia. "Come sit with me."
She stopped pacing and hesitated, then came to perch on the edge of the other rocking chair. I reached out and took her hand, her fingers cool against my palm.
"I'm not putting my life on hold," I told her. "This is my life. You and Amelia and this place we're building together—this is what I want."
Her eyes searched mine, skepticism clear in her gaze. "But the clinic—"
"Will be fine," I assured her. "Billie's handling the day-to-day operations with the assistance of Marianne, and I'll still see patients three days a week. It's exactly the balance I want."
"But Booker mentioned the center is already fully booked for the first year," she said, concern knitting her brow. "And I know you’re talking about accelerating the expansion plans. That's a lot of pressure, Xander."
I nodded, acknowledging her point. "It's happening faster than we expected."
Blake didn't look convinced. "It's not just the clinic, though. You're always taking care of us, making sure we have everything we need. When's the last time you did something just for you?"
I thought about it, trying to remember.
But the truth was, everything I'd been doing lately had felt like it was for me, even when it was technically for Blake or Amelia. I'd never felt so fulfilled, so purposeful.
"I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing," I told her, the conviction in my voice surprising even me. "Being here with you and Amelia—it's not a sacrifice, Blake. It's a privilege."
She sighed, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "I just don't want you to wake up in five years and resent me because you gave up your career to babysit while I chased my dream."
I almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but caught myself when I saw the genuine worry in her eyes.
She was serious. She really thought I might resent her someday for this life we were building.
"Blake," I said, adjusting Amelia's weight against my shoulder. "Can I tell you something I've never told anyone before?"
She nodded, her eyes still troubled.
"I never wanted to be a doctor."
She blinked in surprise. "What?"
"I never wanted to be a doctor," I repeated, the admission feeling strangely freeing. "It was just what was expected of me. The perfect Farrington son following family expectations. Go to medical school, become a successful doctor, make the family proud."
Blake's expression softened. "But you're good at it. You care about your patients."
"I do care about them. And I don't hate being a doctor," I clarified. "But if I'd been given a real choice? If someone had ever asked me what I wanted instead of just pointing me down a path? I don't know if I would have chosen medicine."
"What would you have chosen?" she asked quietly.
I thought about it for a moment. It was a question I'd never really allowed myself to consider before. "I think I might have liked to be a teacher," I admitted. "Or maybe work with kids in some way. I always liked the idea of helping shape young minds, giving them the support and guidance I never had."
Blake's smile was sad, and I squeezed her hand in reassurance.
"But now I get to help shape this little mind," I said, dropping a kiss on the top of Amelia's head. "And maybe at the ranch clinic, I can make a difference in a way that feels right to me. Working with Booker to create a place where people can heal—body and mind. It's not what I thought my life would look like, but it's better. It's real."
I looked up to find Blake watching me with tears in her eyes. "I never thought of it that way."
"That's because you've always known who you are," I told her. "Even when you're struggling, you've never lost sight of that. You're an artist, Blake. It's not just what you do—it's who you are. And watching you find your way back to that has been incredible."
She wiped at her eyes, laughing softly. "Now I feel stupid for worrying."
"Don't," I said firmly. "It just shows you care."
"I do care," she whispered. "More than I ever thought was possible."
I held out my free arm, and she moved to sit beside me on the wider porch swing. She curled against my side, her head resting on my shoulder next to Amelia's.
I wrapped my arms around them both, marveling at how perfectly they fit against me.
Like they were always meant to be there.
"For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing," I told her, my voice low and sincere.
"Not what anyone else told me I should do. Not what looks good on paper. But what feels right in my soul."
Blake's arm slid around my waist, her body warm against mine. "And what does that feel like?"
"Like coming home," I answered without hesitation. "Like finally finding where I belong."
She was quiet for a long moment, her breathing syncing with Amelia's and mine until it felt like we were one organism, breathing together in the gathering dusk.
"You know what's funny?" she finally murmured.
"What?"
"I spent so long running from my past, trying to prove I could make it on my own. And then this little girl shows up on my doorstep, and suddenly I can't imagine doing any of this alone."
I pressed a kiss to the top of Blake's head, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo. "You're not alone anymore. And neither am I."
The sky had darkened while we talked, stars beginning to poke through the indigo canvas above us. From where we sat, I could just make out the silhouette of our oak tree at the edge of the property—the same one where Blake had taken Amelia for sketching that day when everything began to change between us. It seemed fitting that it would stand guard over this new chapter of our lives too.
Amelia stirred against my chest, making the small snuffling sounds that usually preceded waking. Blake reached up to stroke her cheek with one finger, that artist's hand so gentle it made my heart ache. Amelia settled again, her tiny mouth forming a perfect O as she exhaled.
"I should get back to work," Blake said, but made no move to get up.
"Stay," I whispered. "Just for a little while longer."
She nestled closer, her body relaxed against mine. "Five more minutes."
I smiled into the darkness, perfectly content to sit there forever with the two people who had somehow become my entire world. "Five more minutes," I agreed.
But when I glanced down a few minutes later, Blake's eyes had drifted closed, her breathing deep and even. She'd fallen asleep against my shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up with her. I didn't have the heart to wake her. Instead, I adjusted my position slightly to make her more comfortable and watched as the first fireflies of the season began to dance across the lawn.
I'd spent so many years trying to outrun my demons, to prove that I was stronger than my weaknesses. But it turned out that real strength wasn't about standing alone against the world. It was about building something worth fighting for. A home. A family. A life filled with purpose and meaning.
As I sat there with Blake and Amelia sleeping against me, I felt a profound sense of peace settle over me. This—right here—was everything I'd never known I wanted. And I would move heaven and earth to protect it.
"I love you both," I whispered into the night air, the words feeling like a promise and a prayer. "More than you'll ever know."
For the first time in my life, I was exactly where I was supposed to be.