Chapter 8 Alexander
Alexander
It’s official.
The results came back this morning.
I’m a father.
And now that Haven is moving in with me for a couple of weeks, I have a housemate. Two if you count Everly.
The sun is shining, the sky is cloudless and blue, and the air is crisp. It all adds up to a perfect November day.
Lando claps a hand on my shoulder. “Big day for you. Baptism of fire, one might say.”
“If that’s what you want to call it. I guess I had to start sometime.”
He shakes his head with a wry smile and glances at Hendricks. I know what they’re both thinking. That I, Alexander Burlington, the one who’s never ever wanted to live with a woman—or anyone for that matter—now have two people sleeping in my house.
It helps that both of them are insanely beautiful, especially the one I’m holding in my arms.
My daughter.
When I glance up, Lando is checking his phone, but Hendricks’s expression has turned serious.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shrugs in that annoying way where I know for a fact he has something to say, but either can’t be bothered or can’t decide whether to keep it to himself.
“Henners, what?”
He tugs on the back of his neck and lets out a big sigh. “Haven moving in isn’t part of some grand scheme to get her to fall in love with you, is it?”
“What?”
“I know it was hard for you this year when you thought she’d ghosted you or whatever. And now with Christmas coming up . . .”
His words trail off. He doesn’t need to finish his sentence because we all know I struggle at Christmas, and even though I don’t like to admit it because it makes me feel guilty, I know my family worries about me.
Their temperament toward me changes as we head into December. It becomes gentler, more cautious.
Truly, I hate it.
“Hen—”
“All I’m saying is, don’t fuck things up for yourself by assuming Haven will want to start something with you now that you have a child together. I know what it’s like to be at war with the mother of your child, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
The three of us glance over at Max carrying an uncharacteristically placid and agreeable Blackberry the cat under one arm, along with a bucket while they collect the last of the season’s conkers and search for snails, or something equally slimy and revolting.
“Your priority needs to be Everly,” Hendricks continues.
“I know. She is—”
“Keep things platonic, Al. At least for the moment.”
“Message received, Hen. Now drop it, for fuck’s sake.”
I ignore Lando’s raised eyebrow at my snapping, but Hendricks has inadvertently touched a nerve.
I’m not admitting that the thought crossed my mind briefly in the darkest hours of last night, while I tossed and turned with slight panic that the paternity results would come back negative.
Thankfully, their attention is taken as another one of the Burlington staff walks into my house carrying a large chest of drawers intended for Everly’s room.
James Winters, our family’s head of operations, has done an excellent job of transforming one of my spare bedrooms into a nursery for Everly.
Since yesterday, his team of workmen has removed the existing bed and replaced it with a changing table, a crib, and a rocking chair—all essential items for a baby, according to Google.
Pink and white rugs have been laid on the hardwood floor, and this morning, I built a bookshelf, which will be stacked with the children’s books Hendricks brought over for me earlier. Built it with my own bare hands, I might add.
I also bought two spare cribs—one for Haven’s bedroom and one for mine. And a baby monitor for every room. Just in case.
Alex Burlington—Landowner and Responsible Dad.
Lando shakes his head. “I thought Haven was only staying for two weeks.”
“She is.”
“Okay . . .” His mouth rolls, then softens as he steps in a little closer to me and studies his new niece. “She looks like Clementine did when she was a baby.”
“Ha, yes. Remember when we tried to see whose name she would say first?”
I laugh, trying to remember back that far, and how we would constantly repeat our name to her. In the end, her first word sounded a lot like Squirrel, the name of my dad’s old Jack Russell.
“That dog was such a little shit.” Lando chortles with a memory, no doubt of Squirrel chewing something he shouldn’t have been.
Everly stirs at our laughing, and I gently jostle around until her face relaxes again. “Wonder how long it’ll take for Mum to start on you again.”
“Holiday and I have only just gotten back together,” he grumbles.
“So . . . a week?” Hendricks snorts.
It’s no secret our mother has been desperate for Lando to produce an heir to Burlington since he was old enough to drive.
After a failed relationship and a series of dates she had set up that Lando refused to go on, she upped the ante by renting out his old cottage to a Hollywood actress.
Fortunately for everyone, her plan worked.
Wedding bells aren’t ringing yet, but they’re close. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Lando as happy as he is now, and I’ve had to work hard to keep my jealousy at bay. Because as great as it is to see, it’s just been a daily reminder of how far away I am from where he is.
“Probably. Still, I wouldn’t mind a couple with Holiday.” He smiles, taking a deep breath as his mind drifts momentarily to a place I don’t want to ask about before he shakes it away. “Anyway, where’s Haven?”
“She went to check out of the bed and breakfast. She’ll be back here soon.”
At the sound of a cat squawking, the three of us turn to find Blackberry jumping out of Max’s arms while he sprints over to where we’re standing on the front porch.
His jeans are wet with patches of mud from where he’s been kneeling on the ground, and the bucket swings wildly in his hands, though not enough for the contents to spill over the side, thank God.
I don’t want a pile of snails on my lawn.
“May I see my cousin again?” he asks, grinding to a halt at our feet.
His round face is pink from the cold air and beaming with excitement.
“Of course.” I crouch down closer to his height, turning a sleeping Everly toward him.
“Hmm.” He peers over her, slowly scanning down her tiny blanket-wrapped body, like he’s double-checking she is, in fact, still definitely a girl. According to Hendricks, he has been asking about it on an almost hourly basis since Miles mentioned it the other day. “When can I play with her?”
“When she’s on solid foods, buddy.”
He holds up his bucket with so much enthusiasm it only narrowly misses her head. “Do you think she’ll like my snails?”
“Absolutely, she will.”
He nods slowly, and his lips twist side to side while he ponders. “I guess I can show her how to find them.”
“It’s a valuable skill,” I reply. “Are you going to take them home to show Granny?”
Max shakes his head, this time forcing the edges of his mouth to droop down dramatically—something I’ve seen Miles teach him. “Granny doesn’t like snails. They eat her roses. And Uncle Lando won’t let me bring them in the house.”
“Quite right. Snails are for outside,” Lando replies with mock sternness. Then he adds, “Slugs too,” in case Max gets any ideas. Because Max will find a loophole in any rule.
He responds with a devilish giggle, his cousin forgotten, and swings the bucket toward Lando, who runs off slow enough for Max and the snails to chase him, narrowly avoiding a couple of the delivery guys walking down the path.
They’re followed by James.
“My Lord, everything is complete, if you want to check it over. We only have the Hamley’s delivery, which is due within the hour.”
“Hamley’s?” Hendricks snorts.
“What? I bought Everly a panda bear. I thought she’d like it.” I’m getting annoyed with Hendricks and his judgmental looks. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
He flicks his wrist around and checks his watch. “We do. Max has a swimming lesson. Max, buddy, we need to go,” he calls over to where Max is still chasing Lando with his snail bucket.
“Oh, thank goodness.” Lando puffs out his cheeks. “I was about to collapse.”
“No, you weren’t,” Max shoots back.
“I certainly was.”
Throwing Lando a withering look, he turns to his father. “Where are we going?”
“Swimming lesson. And we’re going to be late if we don’t hurry.”
The words have Max sprinting down the path to the front gate, with Hendricks rushing after him.
Lando drops a hand on my shoulder. “I need to head off too. You sure you’re going to be okay?”
“Of course.” My eyes drop to Everly and find hers wide open. “We’re going to be fine, aren’t we?” Everly blows an air bubble in response.
“Call if you need anything.”
“I will,” I reply, throwing him a grateful smile, and sit down on the bench outside the front door.
Although on second thought, it might be too chilly to stay outside. How long can babies be outside for?
I have a feeling Google’s about to become my new best friend. I’m pulling out my phone when Haven returns.
I don’t know why, but something doesn’t seem right. Once more, I find myself thinking she’s not quite how I remember her. Her smile isn’t as wide as it used to be, even as she’s heading toward her daughter with a large backpack slung over her shoulders.
“Hey.”
Her smile widens a fraction, which makes me feel a little better, but it’s still a ways off from the one I’ve been picturing for the past ten months. “Hey there. How’s it going? Did you two do okay together?”
“Better than okay.” I grin, and she drops her backpack on the porch to join us on the bench. “Did you need me to go collect the rest of your things?”
She shakes her head and pats the backpack. “This is everything. I was only staying a few days, remember? But I might need to borrow your washing machine.”
It’s a sobering thought. I open my mouth to say something, then realize I don’t know what to say.