All Chapters of My Brother's Best Friend's Secret Baby: Chapter 331 - Chapter 340

Rosalie's POV Two weeks after Mila arrived, I had developed a particular relationship with the kitchen table. It was where I ate, when I remembered to eat. It was where I sat with Mila on my chest during those first afternoons, when she had decided that sleeping was acceptable but only while in contact with another person, which was the case most afternoons. It was where I opened my laptop with one hand and handled the gallery correspondence that could not wait, leaving the rest for later. It was where I drank the tea Aiden made without being asked, always at the right temperature because he had learned my tea schedule. It was not where I expected to receive important professional news. Mila was sleeping on my chest. She had been asleep for forty minutes, the longest stretch of uninterrupted sleep she had managed in two weeks, and I had not moved for forty minutes because the alternative was waking her, and waking her was not something I was willing to do voluntarily. My la

Rosalie's POV Lucy had selected the outfits three days in advance. It wasn't a surprise. Lucy had been planning the museum opening with the same focused attention she reserved for important occasions ever since the invitation had been confirmed, and the outfits were something she took seriously. She had opinions about every child, about me, and about Aiden, which she'd communicated in a document emailed to all relevant parties, meaning everyone except Mila and Alessandro, who could not be trusted with advance wardrobe information. The document had a notes column. Alessandro's note said: He will argue about the shoes. Stand firm on the shoes. I stood firm on the shoes. Alessandro argued for nine minutes, then accepted the shoes with the resignation of someone who had made his position known and was now preparing to function within the established parameters. Mila wore what Lucy had chosen, something small and soft with a collar that Mila had assessed upon presentation an

Aiden's POV Lucy turned ten on a Thursday. She asked for a family dinner and a conversation. Not a party, which she said she was too old for, and not a restaurant, which she said was inefficient for the kind of conversation she wanted to have. Dinner at home, with the nice tablecloth and the candles from the cabinet that we never used, and everyone present. Everyone was present. My father-in-law had come for the week. Mrs. Willow was there. Jeffery and Mara were on the screen because Jeffery refused to miss this, and Mara, seven months pregnant, appeared behind him on a couch with the look of someone who was perfectly comfortable and had chosen to stay that way. Alessandro was sitting beside Lucy with the serious attention of a two-and-a-half-year-old who understood that something important was happening and had decided his role was to observe. Mila was in her high chair, conducting her own assessment of how dinner was progressing. Lucy was seated at the head of the table

Rosalie's POV It happened on a Tuesday morning in April. Alessandro was two and a half. He'd been working toward language for months in that particular way of his when it came to everything, carefully evaluating before committing. He'd had isolated words since he was fourteen months old. He added them steadily, testing each one with the deliberate care of someone who wanted to be certain an instrument worked before deploying it. He didn't quite babble. He didn't experiment out loud. He collected words in private and used them when he was certain. We had waited. Lucy waited with the particular impatience of someone who had so much to say to her brother and was limited by his current vocabulary in what she could communicate. She'd adapted by simplifying her sentences and speaking to him in the direct register she reserved for people she considered worthy of communication, a significant honor coming from Lucy. That Tuesday morning, she was at the kitchen table explaining somet

Rosalie's POV The specialist was Dr. Kimani, and her office had a window overlooking a small courtyard. She had that particular manner of someone delivering both good news and difficult news with the same measured care. She had that same manner today, which was the difficult part. Mila was six months old and had that quality of watching everything, that decisive grip, and that expression of I see that this situation has potential that she brought to new information. She was sitting on my lap during the appointment, conducting her own assessment of the specialist's office, which she found acceptable. Dr. Kimani went over what she'd observed. A slight delay in one area of motor development, the specific kind she named and explained, the kind that wasn't alarming on its own but warranted early attention. She said most children with this pattern caught up completely with consistent early intervention. She said the intervention was simple and could be done at home. She said she wa