Chapter 8 Alexander #2
Haven’s been lugging around a backpack and carrying a baby.
But more so, the backpack is evidence that she never intended to stay for longer than a weekend, just enough time to break the news to me and then leave.
And that makes me both incredibly sad and more determined than ever to make the next two weeks as worthwhile as possible.
“Of course, you can. I have a housekeeper. She does the laundry, so leave it for her. She’s Miles’s housekeeper too,” I add quickly, feeling the need to defend myself when Haven’s brows shoot up in surprise.
Thankfully, her focus is taken by one of James’s team walking past with the giant panda.
“Alex, what’s that?”
“Something for Everly,” I reply, trying to stop the self-consciousness creeping over me. “I wanted to make it comfortable for you both. I’ll show you.”
“Thank you, Alex. That’s really kind.” She smiles. “I hope you haven’t gone to any trouble, especially as we’re only here for a few weeks.”
Her words start twisting in my stomach because of course, I’ve tried. I want her to feel welcome. I want her to feel at home. And she might only be staying for two weeks, but during that time, we need to discuss how often she’ll visit. Or I’ll visit her. And I want her to see that I want that.
But instead, I shake my head and reply, “Not at all. My pleasure.”
We stand there, staring, both of us unsure of what to say next. And I’m reminded that we don’t know each other. Not really. Not that well.
So instead of worrying about logistics, I worry that two weeks isn’t enough time to get to know each other.
In the end, the silence is broken when Everly lets out a loud wail.
Haven holds her arms out. “I should take her. She’ll be hungry soon.”
“I’ll swap you for your bag.” I laugh, doing the classic “easing the tension with a poor joke,” and as carefully as I can, I hand her over. I feel instantly lighter, but not in a good way. It’s like something is missing. “I can show you her room if you want to use that?”
Haven’s brows shoot up again. “Her room?”
“You both have one, but you can use them as you want,” I blurt. “I didn’t know how much you brought with you.”
“A bag.” She laughs, and once again, I feel like an idiot.
I don’t tell her I know my mother will be around with an entire wardrobe of clothes for Everly as soon as she can. In fact, I’m surprised she’s not already here, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
Leading her up the stairs, I take her to the first room on the left. It looks directly out onto the back garden and the fields beyond. Now that the trees are bare of leaves, the church is visible, but once spring arrives, you can barely see the steeple.
The bells are still loud enough to wake the dead, however, whatever the season.
“This is you. It’s the room Clementine calls girly, so I thought you’d like it.” I laugh awkwardly while Haven slowly walks around the room, running her fingers along the white cotton duvet of the king-sized bed, the chaise lounge, and the cot for Everly.
The room suits her. Which is such a stupid thought, but it does. It’s not flowery and there’s no pink, but the pale green walls and white borders give me a sense of calm I’ve always liked. There’s a softness to it, just like Haven.
Truthfully, I had nothing to do with the decorating of this house.
My mother’s interior designer attempted to wow me with fabric and paint swatches, along with wallpaper samples, which I had no interest in.
And when I failed to elicit the level of enthusiasm she was looking for, my sister took over after I left the country on a business trip.
Could have been a lot worse, I say.
“Alex, this is beautiful. Thank you . . . and a crib. I’ll enjoy having a bed to myself again.” She smiles and sits on the chaise lounge.
“Um . . .” I point at another door. “Actually, there’s an adjoining bathroom, which goes through to Everly’s room.”
“Oh, okay.” Haven stands, and we walk through.
This morning, this bathroom was bare, but now it’s filled with tiny baby soaps lined in a row that Clementine brought over earlier, stacked pink washcloths, and a little towel that will make Everly look like a bunny rabbit.
But it’s her room that’s seen the biggest change. I haven’t been here since James’s team was emptying it earlier, and it feels so much bigger now that it’s not filled with workers.
Gone is the king-sized bed, replaced with a large cot over which hangs a mobile of baby animals. There’s a changing table filled with nappies, wipes, and baby creams, again courtesy of my sister, along with a sofa covered in a dozen cushions all in varying shades of pink.
The bookshelf is stacked with books, and next to it sits a large rocking chair.
It all reminds me of Max’s nursery at Burlington when he was a baby.
I remember when Hendricks first told us his girlfriend was pregnant, showing us the sonogram photos and how nervous he was.
Those sonogram pictures still hang in a frame on Max’s bedroom wall.
Out of nowhere, my throat tightens. Seeing everything like this, I realize how much I’ve missed out on.
I have to work to keep my voice steady. “I didn’t have time to get it decorated or anything, but I rush ordered what I could.” I offer a casual shrug and watch the giant stuffed panda flop over in the corner. “And stole anything from Max he’d outgrown,” I add with a laugh, but Haven’s not laughing.
If anything, her expression is one of disbelief.
“Alex, it’s incredible. Thank you.”
“It’s a quick fix. We can find something more permanent when we have time.”
“No, this is more than enough.”
Everly’s still fussing when Haven crosses to the rocking chair and eases into it. The other day, when she fed her, she was covered in a massive jumper, and it wasn’t so obvious, but not today. I know nothing about breastfeeding except that it’s private.
I spin around and thumb toward the door. “I can . . .”
Everly’s cries become louder until the room is silent again, except for the sound of her hungry eating. I’m almost at the door when Haven calls out.
“No, it’s okay. You don’t need to leave.”
Awkwardly shuffling on my feet because I don’t want to overcrowd her, I take a seat on the sofa. I don’t want Haven to feel like I’m staring, but I also can’t take my eyes away as I revel in the moment and the past ninety-six hours. How much has changed. How much I have changed.
There’s a new Burlington.
“I haven’t asked. What’s Everly’s full name? Or is it just Everly?”
“Everly Jeanne Wylder,” Haven replies softly, though her eyes are on Everly. They never leave. “Jeanne was my mom.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then says, “We could add Burlington on too if you’d like. It’s kind of a mouthful, but—”
“You’d do that?”
She nods. “Of course. She’s your daughter, too, and we’re figuring this out. Right?”
I have to clear my throat before I can speak. “Right. Figuring this out,” I breathe. “Thank you, Haven. I mean it. Thank you.”
I stare at my daughter lying in her mother’s arms, and the surge of emotion is nothing short of overwhelming. She’s quite easily the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. If it’s possible to love something wholeheartedly this quickly, then I do.
I understand why Hendricks fought so hard for Max that it almost killed him in the process. I would burn the world down for Everly, and I’ve only known her for four days.
“Lady Everly—”
“What?” Haven’s head snaps up. “Lady? Lady?”
I nod. “Yes. I’m a lord, and my father was a duke, so any of my offspring are automatically given a title.”
Haven’s mouth drops. She must loosen her grip on Everly enough because she cries out in objection.
“She’s a member of the Burlington family now. She doesn’t have to use the title—Hendricks, Miles, and I don’t much unless it’s formal. But it is ours if we want, inherited from our father and passed down through generations.”
“A lady,” she whispers. “Hear that, baby . . . Lady Everly Jeanne Wylder-Burlington.”
“You’re right, it’s kind of a mouthful.” I laugh. “What do you call her?”
“Evey . . . sometimes. I haven’t got that far. Baby, mostly.” Her head tips back against the rocking chair, but not for long because, like me, she can’t stop watching Everly.
I decide to leave them alone and give them privacy.
Because Hendricks’s voice pops into my head, and I’m reminded that I can’t fuck this up. Not when I want Everly to be part of my life, and I hers.
I have to keep things platonic.
But given it’s been ten months since I last had sex, and the woman I haven’t stopped thinking about since I first met her is standing right in front of me . . .
Hendricks is right, this is going to be hard.
I have a feeling I’m going to need reminding a lot.