31. Xander
Chapter 31
Xander
I 'd never been this nervous in my entire life, and considering I'd gone through my medical residency and had people's literal lives in my hands, that was saying a lot. My stomach churned as I paced the living room, my socked feet making soft shuffling sounds against the hardwood floor. Each time I passed the window, I found myself pausing to peer out, checking for any sign of Susan's car in the driveway.
"She said 2:30 right?"
"She's probably running late," Blake said.
She sounded just as nervous as I was, but the longer the time stretched out, the more my heart felt like it was climbing up my throat. I was supposed to be the calm one. I was trained to be able to work through the pressure. Although we all knew how that turned out.
"You need to sit down," Blake said from the couch where she had Amelia standing on her lap, her tiny feet pressing into Blake's thighs as Blake steadied her with gentle hands. "Isn't that right, Amelia? Tell Xander he needs to stop wearing a path in the floor."
Amelia gurgled in response, a string of drool slipping down her chin which Blake deftly caught with the corner of a soft cloth. The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, catching in Amelia's wispy hair and turning it to spun gold.
"How are you so calm?" I asked, going to look out the window for what had to be the tenth time. The gravel driveway remained stubbornly empty except for our vehicles and the flutter of a few birds pecking at something near the garden bed.
Blake tipped her head back so she was looking at me over the back of the couch, her pink hair falling away from her face. Those expressive eyes of hers held a hint of amusement despite the tension in the air. "Would it help you if I said I was screaming on the inside?"
"Hugely."
"Cool. I'm a mess of emotions, weeping and screaming in my head, but I'm trying to pretend to be a normal human being for the next hour because if I break down now, I might never pull myself together again."
"I changed my mind. That doesn't make me feel better."
I moved to the couch and sat down beside her, the cushion dipping under my weight. The scent of Blake's shampoo—something floral and clean—mingled with the baby powder smell of Amelia. It was becoming a familiar combination, one that I found myself seeking out whenever I was around them.
The elephant in the room sat between us like a living thing. Blake's feverish confession from a few days ago hung in the air, unaddressed but impossible to ignore. Every time our eyes met, I could see the uncertainty there, the question of whether she'd meant what she said or if it had just been the fever talking. And every time I opened my mouth to bring it up, the words died in my throat.
"It's going to be alright?" I offered weakly.
"See, the way you posed that as a question just makes me think it won't be."
I reached for her hand, threading our fingers together. The simple contact sent warmth up my arm, and I saw her breath catch slightly. "We'll get through this," I said more firmly. "Whatever happens, no one is taking Amelia away from us."
Blake's eyes searched mine, and I could see her wrestling with something. "Xander, about what I said when I was sick—"
An official knock sounded at the door. It was the sound we'd both been dreading. Amelia startled at the noise, her little face scrunching up, but Blake quickly soothed her with gentle bounces and soft whispers.
"I'll get it," I said, squeezing Blake's shoulder as I stood.
When I opened the door, a woman I assumed was Susan Blackwood stood on our porch, clutching her briefcase with both hands. Her hair was pulled back in its usual neat ponytail, and she wore a conservative navy suit that looked too warm for the spring weather. But it was the expression on her face that made my stomach sink—a mix of professional detachment and something that looked suspiciously like pity.
"Dr. Farrington, I assume." She greeted me with a tight smile and extended her hand to shake. "May I come in?"
"Of course," I stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. "Blake and Amelia are in the living room."
I followed Susan into the cottage, watching as her gaze swept over the space, taking in the baby toys scattered across the floor, the half-folded laundry on the armchair, the dishes drying beside the sink. All the small, mundane evidence of our life together.
"Susan, hi," Blake said, standing up with Amelia balanced on her hip. The baby was chewing on her fist, drool making her chin glisten in the late afternoon light. "Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"
"Water would be nice, thank you," Susan said, following Blake into the kitchen and setting her briefcase on the kitchen table.
I filled a glass from the tap while Blake settled Amelia into her high chair, giving her a teething toy to keep her occupied. We all sat down at the kitchen table, the scratched wood surface that had become the center of our home life these past few weeks.
Susan took a sip of her water, then set the glass down carefully. "I appreciate you both taking the time to meet with me."
There was something in her tone that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I glanced at Blake and saw that she'd gone very still, her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the table.
"Is everything okay?" Blake asked, her voice small.
Susan folded her hands on the table. "I want to be straight with you both. Ms. Mitchell, your background check came back clean, as expected."
Blake nodded, but I could see the tension in her shoulders hadn't eased. Because we both knew there was more coming.
Susan turned to me, and I felt my stomach sink. "Dr. Farrington, however, your background check flagged some concerns. Specifically related to an incident in the city last year. Although no charges were filed, it seems you had a level of alcohol in your system during a car accident."
Blake immediately jumped to my defense, her chair scraping against the floor as she leaned forward. "Xander might have had a problem once, but he's been sober for nearly a year. He's worked the program, he's committed to his recovery. This isn't fair."
I reached across the table and took Blake's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's okay," I said softly. Then I turned to Susan. "Blake's right about my sobriety, but she's also not telling the whole story because she doesn't know it."
I took a deep breath, feeling the familiar shame wash over me, but I pushed through it. This was too important for half-truths or evasions.
"I am an alcoholic," I said plainly. "I started drinking heavily during my residency to cope with the stress, and it only got worse when I started my own practice. The accident happened when I was driving home from a hospital shift. I'd been up for nearly forty-eight hours, and I'd had a drink to 'take the edge off.' I wasn't legally intoxicated, but I wasn't sober, either. I dozed off at the wheel and hit a parked car. Thankfully, no one else was hurt, but that doesn't take away from the fact that I did a very reckless thing."
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet Susan's eyes. "That was my rock bottom. My practice partners asked me to leave, and they quietly bought me out. When I realized what I was doing to myself, I checked myself into rehab, and I've been sober ever since. I just got my one year chip."
Susan nodded, her expression giving nothing away. "Thank you for your honesty, Dr. Farrington. I appreciate that, truly."
She looked between us, and something in her face softened. Amelia chose that moment to squeal and drop her teething toy on the floor with a clatter. I automatically bent to retrieve it, wiping it clean on my shirt before handing it back to her.
"You both clearly care for Amelia very much," Susan said, watching the interaction with a thoughtful expression. "And I can see you've created a loving home for her."
"But?" Blake prompted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Susan sighed, removing her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. "But this does complicate matters. Between us, there have been… issues in the office and everyone is firmly in cover-your-own-back mode. If it had just been the addiction, it would have been manageable. We recognize that recovery is a journey, and your commitment to sobriety speaks volumes. But driving under the influence, and with it being so recent…" She shook her head. "That's going to make it a hard sell to my supervisor."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I'd been supposed to make this easier for Blake, not harder. Now I was going to be the reason she didn't get to keep Amelia.
"Would it be easier if I wasn't in the picture?" I asked, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
Blake gasped beside me, her hand tightening painfully around mine. "Xander, no!"
I hated the idea, but if that's what it took... "If my presence is the obstacle, then maybe—"
"Actually, that would probably make it worse," Susan interrupted, shaking her head. "It would raise questions about stability and support systems. The fact that you're together actually works in your favor. It shows commitment and a willingness to provide a stable family structure."
She gave us a small smile. "And given what I've observed today, I suspect there's genuine feeling there."
Amelia began to fuss in her high chair, and Blake automatically stood to lift her out, settling her against her shoulder and swaying gently. The baby's small hand curled into the fabric of Blake's shirt, her eyes heavy-lidded as she fought against sleep.
Susan watched them for a moment, something soft passing over her features. "Look, I want to be honest with you both. I don’t see this going the way we want it to. We have a backlog at the office right now. I'm going to try and shuffle your file to the bottom of the pile to buy you some more time. Perhaps you could reach out to Amelia's mother, explore other legal options. I'll let you know as soon as any official decision has been made."
She closed her briefcase with a snap and stood up. "In the meantime, keep doing what you're doing. Build your case. Show that you're providing a stable, loving home for Amelia. We'll fight for this, if that’s what we have to do. Because that's exactly what this will be—one hell of a fight."
I walked her to the door, feeling like I was moving through molasses. "Thank you for being straight with us," I said as she stepped onto the porch.
Susan looked back at me, her eyes kind but serious. "Take care of them, Dr. Farrington. And take care of yourself, too. Recovery is a day-by-day journey."
I nodded, unable to form words around the lump in my throat. Then she was gone, the sound of her car engine fading as she drove down the gravel driveway.
When I turned back to the living room, Blake was sitting on the couch, Amelia cradled against her chest. The baby had finally succumbed to sleep, her tiny mouth slightly open, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Blake's eyes were fixed on Amelia's face, but I could see the tears streaming silently down her cheeks.
I crossed the room and sank down beside her, but before I could say anything, Blake spoke.
"I ruined it," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "I said it too soon, didn't I? When I was sick. I scared you off, and now you need a way out before it gets any worse. My feelings are going to cost us Amelia."
My heart clenched at the pain in her voice. "Blake, no. That's not—"
"I should have kept my mouth shut," she continued, still not looking at me. "I should have waited, been more careful. But I was sick and scared and I just... I couldn't keep it in anymore. And now you're freaking out about what I said and wondering how to let me down easy, and meanwhile we're about to lose our daughter because I couldn't control myself."
"Blake, stop." I reached for her face, gently turning her to look at me. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her eyes bright with unshed ones. "You didn't ruin anything. You didn't scare me off. And your feelings aren't going to cost us Amelia."
She searched my eyes, hope and fear warring in her expression. "But you haven't said anything. Since I told you I loved you, you've barely looked at me. I thought—"
"You thought wrong," I said firmly, my thumb brushing away her tears. "Blake, I've been desperately in love with you since the moment you asked me to take my clothes off in public. Maybe even before that, if I'm being honest. Every day I watch you with her, every smile, every laugh, every time you sing her to sleep—I fall deeper in love with both of you."
Her breath caught, her free hand coming up to cover mine where it rested against her cheek. "Then why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I was terrified," I admitted. "You were sick, running a fever, and I thought maybe it was just the delirium talking. I didn't want to presume, didn't want to put pressure on you when you were vulnerable. I was waiting for you to bring it up again when you were feeling better, but then you didn't, and I started thinking maybe you regretted saying it."
Blake let out a shaky laugh, leaning into my touch. "I've been terrified you regretted hearing it."
"Never," I said, leaning forward to rest my forehead against hers. "I love you, Blake Mitchell. I love your strength and your kindness and the way you make everything better just by being in the room. I love watching you with Amelia, seeing how naturally you've stepped into being her mother. I love that you fight for the people you care about, and I love that somehow, impossibly, I get to be one of those people."
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, but these were different—tears of relief and joy rather than fear. "I love you too," she whispered. "So much it scares me sometimes."
I kissed her then, soft and sweet, tasting the salt of her tears on her lips. When we broke apart, Blake shifted Amelia gently in her arms so she could wrap her free arm around my neck.
"We're going to get through this," she said, her voice steady with newfound determination. "Whatever it takes, whatever we have to do. We're a family, Xander. You, me, and Amelia. And families don't give up on each other."
"No, they don't," I agreed, wrapping my arms around both of them. "We'll find Madison, we'll get every character reference in town if we have to. We'll fight for this."
"Together," Blake said, and it wasn't a question.
"Together," I confirmed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm not going anywhere, Blake. Whatever comes next, we face it as a family."
"Can we not tell everyone just yet?" Blake asked.
"You mean Delaney and the others?"
"Yeah, it's just that everyone else will be so happy for us and telling us how they always knew we should be together, and it will come with all the pressure of being perfect. And for now, I just want this. I want the magic bit where I wonder if you'll kiss me again. The happy bubble where we get to figure it all out without feeling like everyone is watching us all the time."
I kissed her again, and she smiled against my lips. Her hand came up to rest against my chest, right over my heart. "I'm always going to kiss you again," I murmured, and then I did just that.
This kiss was deeper, a slow exploration that sent warmth spreading through my body. Blake's lips parted beneath mine, inviting me in, and I deepened the kiss, savoring the small sigh that escaped her. One of my hands slid into her hair, cradling the back of her head as I angled her face to fit better against mine. There was something almost desperate in the way she kissed me back, like she was drawing strength from me, or maybe giving me hers.
Amelia chose that moment to gurgle out a cry of distress, a demand for attention that couldn't be ignored. We broke apart, breathless and smiling.
"And I can totally have a fake engagement that covers up our real relationship that we're hiding from our friends and family," I joked, reaching out to pick Amelia up and hold her as she grabbed onto my finger with her chubby fist.
"When you put it like that, it sounds terrible," she laughed, the sound warming me from the inside out.
"It's not terrible. I get it, and I actually think it's a really good idea. I like the idea of the happy bubble for just the three of us."
Blake leaned against me with a happy sigh, and we both played with Amelia, tickling her round belly and making silly faces that had her giggling and kicking her legs. The late afternoon light cast a golden glow over the room, warming the hardwood floors and making shadows dance across the walls.
For a moment, I let myself imagine this as our future. Lazy afternoons on the couch, the three of us in our own little world. Building a life together