Blaine was vibrating with nerves when the private jet touched down. The flight crew had to send him back to his seat twice, citing FAA regulations.
He practically flew down the steps toward the car — and froze when he saw her inside.
“LAUREN!”
He grabbed her, pulled her against him, her swollen baby bump pressing into his stomach. It startled him — the reality of it — and he loosened his hold.
“Sorry…”
“Don’t be.” She cupped his cheek. “It was needed. I missed you so much.”
She kissed him.
Blaine ascended.
They were still making out when the driver merged onto the highway.
Rosebriar Haven
Brindleton Bay
When they arrived at Rosebriar, Charley rushed out, Brad shouting after her. She ignored him, too busy accepting a helmet from a guy on a motorcycle. She climbed on, wrapped her arms around him, and they roared off in a blast of noise.
“Ah, Blaine, there you are,” Brad said. “Welcome, once more, to Rosebriar.”
“Hi Brad, and thanks for… well… everything. Who was that?”
“Oh, just another pain in my rear. That’s the part they don’t tell you when you have kids. Even if you get them to adulthood, they find partners, and those partners bring problems, and those problems become your problems. Come inside — long flight, you must be exhausted.”
Lauren leaned in as they followed him.
“Charley’s new love interest. His name is Jonas Fairchild. He is not spoken about in this house unless Dad brings him up first. It’s iffy, he is Charley’s stepbrother, but also … well, you saw.”
“Got it.”
They spent the evening with the family. Blaine played with his sons, tucked them into the guest house nursery, kissed their foreheads. When he turned to leave for his assigned guestroom in the main house, Lauren caught his wrist, pulled him close, and kissed him again.
For a moment, everything was perfect. For a moment, the world felt right.
He pulled back.
“Lauren… come back home.”
She stiffened.
He cursed himself.
“Blaine, I’m not ready. I miss you, I love you, but I can’t live with you right now. I need more time. Can you give me that?”
“Yeah… sure…” his mouth said. His heart disagreed.
Lauren giggled softly, cupping his chin.
“You are such a terrible liar.”
“Hey, I’m trying. I know I messed up. I’m trying. I can’t be someone else in a few minutes. I need time.”
“Thank you for making my point for me. We both do. Blaine… baby… I get it. You were on serious drugs, you were in your head, you were drinking again — but you still cheated on me. Parts of you that should be for my eyes only went to other women. How would you feel in my shoes?”
“Terrible. Your feet are much smaller and I suck in heels.”
She smiled, shaking her head. “Nice deflection, but no. We have to talk about this. If we pretend it never happened, it might happen again. Not now, not in a year — but someday, when things get rough. We need to be sure.”
“We always were sure, I was just mentally checked out when I made my mistake.”
“Mistakes. It wasn’t just one woman. Could have been two, could have been twohundred.”
“Twohundred? In just over a month? I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered here. Joking aside, Lauren, it wasn’t an affair. It was one night, here and there, nights I really have zero recollection about. I didn’t cheat on you with anyone. My brain was not working, only my body and nothing was saved to harddrive.”
“I get that, and that is the only reason you are even standing here now. This is hard. Maybe harder. If you had another woman, I could hate her, to make myself feel better. I can’t even hate you, because the doctor in me knows what you are saying is plausible and very real. So, I am stuck simmering in feelings I cannot redirect. And I really do know you love me, Blaine. Sounds great, but doen’t make it easier. I feel like I am supposed to make a gravitational choice with all facts unknown.”
“I’ll help you with the choice. Choose me. We belong, Lauren. I can’t change what happened, but I can look you straight in the eye and tell you with confidence it was always you for me. I don’t give a shit about other women.” he realized both of them were starting to get emotional, so he inhaled and changed gears. “We’re about to have three kids, babe. I think the luxury of ‘no thanks, next’ went out the window when we were expecting Easton. And now we’re adding on again. Laur, I love and respect you, you’re a superwoman, but you can’t handle three boys on your own.”
She crossed her arms, pretending to be offended — but her eyes sparkled.
“Oh, another boy, is that what we’re having? What about a girl for me, finally?”
“Not this time. You have to stay around and keep trying with me. My parents had eight. That’s the number to beat. I promise one of them will be a girl.”
“Have mercy! My poor body! And nerves. Nobody needs a DNA test to know those boys are yours. They’re already mini‑Blaines with your explosive personality. I need a sweet little girl this time. Plus, despite everything, this is my easiest pregnancy so far. Definitely a well-behaved girl.”
“Motion declined.”
They were just playing now — both knowing the truth:
Neither cared about the gender. They just wanted the baby healthy. And happy. And theirs.
Gender Reveal
Brad’s flagship medical center in San Myshuno looked exactly like what it was: the crown jewel of the Cunningham empire.
The main building rose in sleek lines of glass and steel, sunlight catching on its mirrored surface. People moved through the lobby in purposeful strides — doctors in crisp coats, nurses in navy scrubs, executives in tailored suits. Everything gleamed. Everything hummed with efficiency.
Blaine felt like he was walking into a boardroom, not a hospital.
But Lauren led him past the main elevators, down a quiet corridor, and through a glass skybridge suspended over a landscaped courtyard. The noise of the main building faded behind them.
Ahead stood a smaller structure — the Cunningham Maternity & Women’s Pavilion.
Warm wood. Soft lighting. Flowering trees outside the windows. A gentle hush in the air, like the building itself knew to speak softly.
Lauren squeezed his hand.
“This part always feels different,” he whispered.
She nodded, swallowing hard. “Dad changed it when Briar Rose was pregnant with Nate. She came here for her checkups and complained it felt so cold and sterile — like having a baby was a curable disease.”
Blaine blinked. “She said that?”
“Have you met Bri? Oh yes,” Lauren said, smiling softly. “And Dad took it to heart. He asked a few of his expectant mother patients back then, and some women who came for regular feminine health checkups. They all agreed. So he had the entire pavilion redesigned to be warm and welcoming.”
She brushed her fingers along the wooden wall as they walked, the grain catching the soft light. “He was very involved in the planning and design. So was Briar Rose. They wanted it to feel like a place where families grow, not where problems get solved.”
Blaine looked around — the soft lights, the gentle colors, the quiet. “They did well.”
Lauren nodded. “I’m doing the same to the facility in Del Sol Valley. Connor already did it at his center in San Sequoia years ago.”
Blaine raised a brow. “Connor? Really?”
“Oh yes,” Lauren said, amused. “He never wanted to be in gynecology. Not his thing at all. But women always loved him — always — and kept asking for him specifically. So he ended up dedicating one day a week to it.”
Blaine snorted. “Of course he did.”
“Dr. McDreamy for you,” Lauren teased. “He’d walk into a room and half the patients would forget why they were there.”
Blaine laughed under his breath. “Sounds about right.”
Lauren continued, “His son Chris purposely stayed away from all of it. Wanted nothing to do with gynecology. And now his wife is about to have child number three and wants nobody else ‘down there’ except her own husband.”
Blaine blinked. “That’s… poetic. I know Connor and Keira always wanted more kids. Looks like whatever issues they had didn’t trickle down to their son. Three kids, huh?”
Lauren gave him a look. “Why do I know this and you don’t? Connor is your nephew.”
“Yeah, my nephew who’s got several decades on me. Isn’t he about to retire?”
“He keeps threatening it. Dad flies out there every time to talk him off the ledge, often with Briar Rose. And if Dad can’t get Connor swung, his little sister will. And if Bri can’t, she gets her twin sister Iris involved and the girls team up on their big brother. Voilà — Connor signs another five‑year contract.”
Blaine shook his head, Lauren added half‑laughing. “Keira agrees, the moment Connor quits being a doctor, he will die.” She nudged Blaine. “You really need to spend more time with your family, Blaine.”
“What family?” Blaine muttered. “Thanks to my parents having fangs, they’re all ancient or dead already. They never gave two shits about me, and all are perfect strangers to me.”
Lauren slowed, watching him carefully.
“I’ll give you Connor,” Blaine continued, voice softer. “He and his parents and sisters were the only ones who kept in touch. His sister Iris lives down the street, and when I was eighteen and my parents left… I mean… died—”
He froze.
The word hung there.
Died.
Not left. Not still immortally alive, still fanged and thriving, hidden in secrecy in Forgotten Hollow.
Lauren wasn’t allowed to know any of that. No one was. To everyone else, including their grandsons, they had to be dead. And that part killed Blaine.
He swallowed hard and pushed through it.
“Iris and Jasper were the only ones who came over. Invited me to dinners and all that. And Connor — he drove out often to check in, invited me to his many parties.”
Lauren’s expression softened.
“You’re probably right,” Blaine said quietly. “I did a shit job keeping in touch. But hey, I kept in touch with Bri… mostly ’cause she’s your stepmom and kinda my mother‑in‑law of sorts, which is also cringe, but I did that. I’ll try with the others. Meaning Connor, Chris, Iris, Jas …”
He paused, jaw tightening.
“But sorry — my siblings and their broods can go suck a big one. That is forever over for me. You know how many of them checked in on me when I was hospitalized? Or in rehab? Yeah, zero. None. Nada. Zilch. Something tells me they’re all disappointed I didn’t croak, so whoever’s left and the oldest can’t inherit Cameron Mansion. Sorry, fuckers. I got sons now. They will get it, not your treacherous abandoning asses.”
Lauren sighed, half amused, half exasperated. “Oh, Blaine… and keep your voice down.”
“Sorry.” He exhaled. “But yeah, this place looks cool. Kudos to your dad. Calms me down, and I’m not even the one with my feet up in stirrups.”
“I won’t be either,” Lauren said, rolling her eyes. “This isn’t a Pap smear, Blaine. It’s a sonogram. Come on, babe, you know how this goes.”
“Yeah. My brain is still foggy sometimes. The meds they have me on to suppress the… cravings don’t help.”
Lauren shrugged, smiling. “Right. But look at the beautiful views. Hard to believe we’re in the heart of San Myshuno — one of the most densely populated metropolises in the world. This looks like a remote island somewhere.”
She squeezed his hand.
“It’s the little things that matter most.”
Blaine squeezed back. “It really is.”
Inside, the pavilion was nothing like the main center. No chrome. No harsh lights. Just warm paint, plush seating, and a faint scent of lavender that reminded Blaine of Lauren’s hair.
He held her hand as they walked toward the reception desk. He didn’t let go. She didn’t pull away.
His heart thudded so loudly he wondered if the receptionist could hear it.
Lauren checked in — the staff already knew her name, her father, her situation. She smiled politely, then sat beside him in the waiting area. A framed watercolor of the San Myshuno river hung on the wall. A toddler played with wooden blocks on the rug. A couple whispered to each other across the room.
Everything felt gentle. Everything felt fragile.
Blaine’s knee bounced uncontrollably.
Lauren placed her hand on it. It stopped.
“Blaine,” she whispered, “breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“Not like a normal person.”
“Sorry, all this medical center stuff, the medical smell and reception desk and waiting area … just … bad aftertaste.”
“I know, baby, but try to remember it saved your life. So breathe. Slow, deep, out, and in.”
He tried again. Slower. Deeper. Less like a man about to pass out.
A nurse opened the door.
“Lauren Cunningham?”
“It’s Cameron.” Lauren stood. Blaine stood faster.
“Oh, apologies, I meant to say Cameron. It’s just … your father and brother … well… this way please.”
They followed the nurse down a quiet hallway lined with soft lighting and framed photos of newborns — Cunningham babies, some of them. Brad’s children and grandchildren. His legacy.
The exam room was dim, calm, almost spa‑like. A large monitor glowed softly. The machine hummed. Lauren climbed onto the padded bed, adjusted her shirt, and lay back.
Blaine hovered beside her like a nervous shadow.
The nurse smiled kindly. “Dad, you can stand right here.”
Dad.
The word hit him like a warm punch to the chest.
He moved closer.
Lauren reached for his hand again. He took it instantly.
The nurse spread warm gel across Lauren’s belly — Blaine flinched at the sight of her bump, still not used to how real it looked, how round, how full of everything he’d almost lost. And when she lifted her shirt, exposing the gentle curve of her abdomen, something inside him tightened. Not desire — not really, though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss them being husband and wife in every meaning of that term. It was the ache of absence, the sharp reminder of how long it had been since he’d been allowed near her in any private, unguarded way.
He wondered when — or if — he would ever see her undress before him again. Not just for passion, but for the simple, quiet intimacy of sharing a space, a bed, a life. The closeness of her choosing to be beside him. The trust of her letting him in. Feeling her skin against his. Her breath on his shoulder before they both drifted off to sleep. Waking up next to her — the ordinary miracle he’d taken for granted.
He missed that more than anything.“Alright,” the nurse said, “let’s take a look.”
The wand touched Lauren’s skin.
The screen flickered.
Static. A blur. A shape.
Then—
A tiny form appeared. Curled. Moving.
And then the sound.
A rapid, rhythmic thumping filled the room — fast, strong, relentless.
Blaine’s breath caught.
Lauren’s eyes filled instantly.
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat,” the nurse said softly.
Blaine pressed a hand to his mouth. His vision blurred. He didn’t care. He didn’t try to hide it.
“That’s… that’s so real now,” he whispered.
Lauren squeezed his hand. “Yes.”
The nurse adjusted the wand, and the image sharpened — head, spine, little limbs, a flutter of movement that looked like a tiny kick.
“Active little one,” she said.
Lauren laughed through her tears. “We’ve got two just like that at home already. Not surprised.”
The nurse smiled knowingly, then glanced at Lauren. A professional glance. A colleague’s glance.
“Doctor Cunningham,” she said gently, “you already saw it, didn’t you?”
Lauren nodded once — small, controlled, but unmistakably emotional.
Blaine looked between them, confused. “See what?”
The nurse’s smile softened. “Would you like Lauren to tell you the gender? Or would you like to be surprised, Mr. Cameron?”
Blaine swallowed hard. “No, I wanna know. I GOTTA know,” he whispered to Lauren. “Tell me baby.”
Lauren looked at the screen again — at the tiny form moving, kicking, alive — then back at Blaine.
For the first time in months, they felt like a team again. Two people standing on the same side of the same moment.
Lauren’s voice trembled. “Blaine…”
He held her hand tighter.
“It’s a girl.”
Blaine’s knees nearly buckled. The room felt brighter. The world felt different.
Lauren gasped — even though she’d known. Blaine pressed his forehead to her shoulder, shaking.
And then, voice rough and breaking, he mumbled against her skin:
“HA! You’re welcome, baby. You’re finally getting that girl you wanted. I did that. On purpose. See? I did something right.”
Lauren laughed — soft, disbelieving — and cupped the back of his head.
“Oh, Blaine…”
He laughed too, a cracked, relieved sound that felt like the first real breath he’d taken in months.
Naming Conventions
Later that night, after the boys finally fell asleep, Blaine and Lauren curled up on the guest house couch with the old leather notebook — the one they’d used for Ashton and Easton.
Lauren settled sideways, legs tucked under her, and Blaine eased down beside her. After a moment, he let his head rest carefully in her lap, one hand instinctively hovering near her stomach as if making sure he wasn’t pressing too close. Lauren smiled and stroked his hair, slow and absentminded, the way she always did when he was tired. His eyes fluttered shut.
She flipped through the pages, laughing at Blaine’s dramatic notes.
“I forgot how insane naming the boys was. Here, a Blaine original. Henry — no way! Would do our taxes before potty trained.” She snorted.
His eyes stayed closed. “Prove me wrong.”
“Oh no, the girls list. Here you go again, scribbled right over my list: Avery — no, sounds like a lawyer. How is that bad?”
“It’s not, unless they start that shit young. You want to get sued by our pubescent daughter because we didn’t let her go party on a school night?”
Lauren laughed, shaking her head. “Fine, we will consult the all‑knowing internet then.”
She pulled out her phone and tapped around until she found a site with baby girl names.
“Okay,” she said, “we’ve got Constance… Connie.”
Blaine grimaced without opening his eyes. “No. Sounds like she’d run away from home at sixteen to join a convent.”
Lauren snorted. “Ooh, I like Georgina… could go by Gigi…”
“No. Childhood trauma. A girl I went to school with had that name, she told everyone I smelled like cheese.”
“What? Did you?”
“Of course not. Slander anyway.”
“Fine. We also have Georgia…”
“Too close to childhood PTSD for me. Nope, those are out.”
“Emerson…”
“Yeah, we tried that one before, when we said that one out loud last time, Ashton kept repeating Eminem. Love the tunes, don’t love that being our daughter’s nickname. Hard no.”
“Ash can talk now. I’m sure he can manage Emerson. Or Emmie.”
“No, thank you. Next.”
She sighed and read absentmindedly “Blake… Blakely …”
Blaine’s eyes opened. He sat up slowly, the movement instinctive — as if the name itself pulled him upright.
Lauren noticed immediately. “What?”
He swallowed. “Blake.”
Her expression softened. “Oh, sorry — I didn’t even think. Your late brother.”
Blaine nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
She touched his hand. “You never talk about him much.”
“I didn’t really know him,” Blaine said quietly. “He was an old man when I was born. I think he went for his permanent dirt nap when I was in second grade or something. And only a half‑brother — different mother. Long, nasty story. But even then, larger than life. Blond, blue‑eyed. Whole different world.”
Lauren leaned closer. “And Channing’s grandfather.”
“Yeah,” Blaine whispered. “Channing still talks about him. Blake Cameron — the actor. The legend. He did so much for charities and environment and all that he’s practically a saint. The one everyone loved. Including Channing. That family was always close. They lived together on that estate in Sulani — close enough to fly out for roles and PR, far enough away from fans and paparazzi. No scandals. Dad used to say Channing looks a lot like Blake. Acts like him too.”
Lauren smiled gently. “Famous like him too. And a good heart. I can see him getting into charitable work.”
“Yeah,” Blaine said. “Maybe eventually. Right now, our Channing is so backed up below the waistband he just wants to … well … you know … canoodle with women. But yeah, he’s a lot like Blake, more so than his father Reed was. Blake was good, just downright good, no strings. Kind. He was… the Cameron everyone wanted to be, but unfortunately the rest of us are too self-absorbed and egoistic. Blake used his fame to help charities and raise awareness. People listened to him.”
Lauren rested her head on his shoulder. “You want to honor him.”
Blaine exhaled shakily. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know him. But I know his son. And his grandson is my best friend. Almost screwed that up too. It’s true, I took Channing into my home to help him out — but he helped me just as much after my parents were suddenly gone. I know eighteen means adult, but I wasn’t anywhere near being an adult at that age, definitely not ready to be on my own. Having Channing there saved me from… myself. If anyone gets to name kids after Blake, it should be Channing. He’s so much better than I am.”
“Babe,” Lauren said softly, “don’t be too hard on yourself. You have a good heart, and you are kind or do you really think I would bother with you after everything? You have a lot of great qualities, Blaine, you just need … to find yourself. Guidance. But trust me about Channing: He’s not having kids anytime soon if he can help it. That Katia thing burned him badly. He wants a family, but the next girl he lets close enough will have to go through several serious trials. That will take time.”
Blaine nodded, then pointed at her phone. “Blake for a girl is beautiful.”
“It is,” she said. “Strong. Clean. No nonsense.”
“Still feels like … stealing. Not sure from whom, Blake’s not exactly a rare name, but …”
“How about Blakely,” Lauren added softly. “Still him… still honoring Channing… but hers. And ours.”
Blaine’s eyes warmed. “Blakely Cameron…” He tried out the sound of it and smiled.
Lauren watched him. “You like it.”
“I do,” he said. “It feels… right.”
Lauren smiled. “I agree. I like it too. Actually, I love it. My favorite so far.”
He looked at her, eyes shining. “You’d really let me name her after him?”
Lauren nodded. “I would. He mattered to you. He mattered to Channing. While you were gone, Channing really helped me, you know, dealing with all the things going on in my head, helped with the boys, and all without me ever having to ask. And I’m proud of you for making up with him — for realizing it and doing it soon, not procrastinating. You need him. And he needs you. I like him in our lives and our kids’ lives. He’s like a fun bonus uncle, but reliable. And our daughter will grow up knowing she carries a name with weight. With history. With love.”
Blaine swallowed hard. “Blakely.”
Lauren whispered it. “Blakely Hope Cameron.”
“Hope?”
“Argue me on that.” she smiled.
He leaned in, forehead touching hers. “I can’t. Blakely Hope Cameron. Our daughter.”
Lauren kissed him softly. “Our daughter.”
And in that moment — with the boys asleep, the house quiet, and a tiny girl growing inside her — they weren’t just choosing a name.
They were choosing each other again. A healing. A bridge between past and future.
Lauren put her phone aside and stood, offering her hand to help Blaine up.
They stood close — too close — staring at each other in that way that always turned into something if they didn’t stop it.
Neither stopped it.
“Time for bed,” Lauren murmured. “I’m exhausted. And you must be too. Your body’s still recovering.”
“And yours is growing a tiny human.”
“Doesn’t feel so tiny when she thinks she’s Lionel Messi.”
They laughed and started walking. Blaine headed for the door, but Lauren grabbed his hand and pulled him back.
“Stay with me.”
Blaine wasn’t sure he wasn’t imagining it. Tears shot up hot. Since when was he such a crybaby? Then he remembered what he almost lost. His throat closed; he couldn’t speak.
“Blaine,” Lauren whispered, “relax. It was always going to happen. I had faith in you. I lost it for a moment, yes — but after talking with you, I realized the Blaine who did that wasn’t you, the drugs had turned you into someone else, I knew you’d try hard and come back to me. The Blaine I love. The father of my children. I missed you, your voice, your scent, your … touch. Your body close to mine.”
The melancholy vanished, replaced by a surge of giddiness. A wicked grin formed slowly.
Lauren giggled, stepping back, hands raised. “No, Blaine… no. Whatever this is going to be — no.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Blaine…” She tried to run into the bathroom, but he caught her, pressing her gently against the wall.
“Feeling dirty? I do a mean back scrub. With my body VERY close to yours and lots of touching.”
“Blaine…” She wanted to protest — but she missed this side of him. She grabbed his collar and pulled him close. They kissed, made out, passion rising—
…when the door beside them opened and a tiny face appeared, rubbing his eyes with a worn stuffed bunny, hitting himself in the face each rub.
“Daddy, I had a bad dream and can’t sleep…”
Lauren grinned. “Tag, you’re it!” She slipped into the bathroom and shut the door.
Blaine sighed and scooped up his oldest.
“What dream was that?”
“You were gone and never came back.”
“That’s a silly dream. Never gonna happen. I travel for work sometimes, you know that — but I always come home. What else you got? Nothing? Well, I say let’s get your butt back into bed.”
Ashton giggled. “You said butt.”
“And?”
“Grandpa says it’s a bad word.”
“Oh,” Blaine sighed, then smiled. “We say but all the time. Like: Ashton wants to stay up, but he’s too tired. Look into my eyes… you are getting tired… and tiiiiiiired…”
Ashton laughed, pushing at Blaine’s face.
“Okay, what would make you tired?”
“Cookies! And milk!”
“Not gonna happen. What else?”
“Story?”
“Alright. Any favorites or should Daddy make one up?”
“Make up!”
He settled Ashton in the travel bed and began constructing a wild, wondrous, ridiculous tale that made the boy laugh until yawns came more often, eyes grew heavy, and eventually he was asleep.
Blaine relaxed — then realized this was the first bedtime story he had ever told. He’d watched Lauren read to them a million times.
“Wow. You taught me something important, Ash. I’m still not the dad I wanted to be — the dad I kinda had until I didn’t anymore. I’ll do better. Promise.”
He left the room, then remembered Lauren was still in the shower. He entered, tapping on the glass.
“I’ll be right out. The faucet was stuck — took forever to move to have hot water. Dad will have to get someone to look at that!”
Blaine had already shed his clothing and stepped in behind her. She squealed.
“Blaine, no — what are you doing?”
“I promised a back scrub. And the new Blaine keeps his promises. Hand me the floofa.”
“It’s called a loofa.”
“It’s pink, it’s fluffy, it’s a floofa.”
“Okay, floofa away then.” She handed him the loofa, turned her back, and he went to work.
Half an hour later, they lay in bed together, the lighthouse painting soft patterns on the wall through the partially open curtains.
“I’m glad you’re back,” she whispered.
“Not as glad as I am. Dammit, Laur… I really messed up.”
“You notice a pattern with us? Every time we break up — or something like it — we re‑meet in San Myshuno.”
“Yeah, cool, but let’s not call it a pattern. I hope this was the last time.”
“Me too.” She curled into his side, his arm around her, and they fell asleep.
Echoes Of Legacy 