That wasn’t really a question.
“Maria,” he said, and a woman appeared as if by magic, “could you prepare something for Laura and ready the blue suite?”
“I’m so sorry to impose—”
“You’re not imposing. You’re family. Michael’s told us so much about you over the years. Well, after he finally admitted you two were together.”
I blinked.
“You knew?”
Robert smiled.
“Laura, I’ve known since your sophomore year. Did you really think my son could hide being in love for six years? He’s many things, but subtle isn’t one of them.”
“But you never said anything.”
“You both clearly had your reasons for privacy. I respected that, though I did wonder why you never came to family events.”
“I was afraid,” I admitted. “My father. He would have either accused me of gold-digging or tried to use the relationship for his own advancement. I couldn’t do that to Michael or to you.”
Robert’s expression darkened.
“Your father? Yes, I can see him doing that. Tell me exactly what happened tonight.”
So I did. The whole story poured out: the secret relationship, finding out about the pregnancy, planning to tell them together, their immediate rejection. By the end, I was ugly-crying into tissues that probably cost more than my groceries.
“They didn’t even ask about the father,” I said between sobs. “They just assumed I was some kind of… I don’t even know what they thought.”
“They thought about themselves,” Robert said quietly. “About their image, their reputation, not about you or their grandchild.”
Maria returned with a tray of food that looked like a five-course meal. While I ate, the baby was apparently starving. Robert made phone calls in the next room. I caught fragments.
“Guest room prepared.”
“Shopping tomorrow, whatever she needs.”
When he returned, he sat across from me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“Michael tells me you have a job offer in Chicago.”
“Kirkland and Ellis. I start in September after the bar exam.”
“Excellent firm. You’ll do well there.” He paused. “I know Gerald Morrison has worked for my company for seventeen years. I want you to know that this situation, your relationship with Michael, your presence here, will have no bearing on his employment. His job is safe as long as he performs adequately.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do. You’re worried about repercussions. I’m assuring you there won’t be any. From my end, at least.”
The meaning was clear. My father might create his own problems, but they wouldn’t come from Robert.
“Can I ask you something?” I said quietly. “Why are you being so kind to me?”
Robert looked surprised.
“You’re carrying my grandchild. You’re the woman my son loves. You’re a brilliant young attorney who earned everything through your own merit. Why wouldn’t I be kind? Your parents are fools. They’re lost, truly. Now, let’s get you settled. Michael’s flight gets in at two tomorrow. His mother is flying in as well. She’s already bought out half of Chicago’s baby stores, I’m afraid.”
I laughed despite everything.
“She doesn’t even know if it’s a boy or girl.”
“Doesn’t matter to Margaret. She’s been waiting for grandchildren since Michael graduated high school.”
I woke in a bed that felt like clouds, in a room decorated in shades of blue that probably had fancy names. The blue suite was bigger than most apartments, with its own sitting area and a bathroom that belonged in a spa. My phone showed missed calls from three unknown numbers and one from my sister Rebecca in Portland. I’d deal with those later. A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
“Come in,” I called, expecting Maria.
Instead, Margaret Hastings entered, looking impeccable despite apparently taking a redeye flight.
“Laura,” she said, rushing over and pulling me into a careful hug, mindful of my bump. “I’m so sorry we’re meeting like this. I wanted to fly out for graduation, but Robert said you two were keeping things quiet.”
“Mrs. Hastings—”
“Margaret, please. Or Mom, eventually, if you’re comfortable.”
She sat on the bed, studying me with kind eyes.
“How are you feeling?”
“Morning sickness, still. Sometimes it’s better now.”
“And emotionally? Michael told us what happened.”
“I’m processing. It feels surreal. Yesterday I had parents. Today I don’t.”
Margaret took my hand.
“You have us. I know it’s not the same, but you have us.”
A knock interrupted us. Michael, this time looking tired from his flight but lighting up the second he saw me.
“I’ll give you two some privacy,” Margaret said, kissing my forehead before leaving. “But we’re going shopping later. No arguments.”
Michael pulled me into his arms the second the door closed.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything. Maybe made it worse.”
“I wanted to take the first flight out when you called. Your interview was important, not more important than you.”
He pulled back, studying my face.
“Dad said you were worried about his job, about using our relationship.”
“I was, Michael. When he finds out, he’ll do what he always does. Try to find an angle.”
“Dad’s ready for it.”
We spent the morning planning. The wedding we’d talked about would move up. A small ceremony before I started work.
“Unless you want to wait,” Michael said carefully, “have the big wedding we planned.”
“I want to be your wife,” I said simply. “The rest is just details.”
That afternoon, Margaret took me shopping. Not for baby things. We had time for that. This trip was for clothes that actually fit my changing body, comfortable shoes, prenatal vitamins. She chatted easily as we browsed, sharing stories about her own pregnancies, making me feel normal for the first time in days.
“I understand you kept the relationship secret because of your father’s position,” she said over lunch. “That shows remarkable judgment for someone so young.”
“Or paranoia,” I said wryly.
“Protective instinct,” she corrected. “You were protecting Michael, protecting your father’s job, protecting yourself. Very lawyerly, actually.”
“My parents didn’t see it that way. They didn’t see anything but the scandal.”
“Then they’re blind. Their loss is our gain.”
That evening, the inevitable happened. The unknown numbers had been my parents trying to reach me through various borrowed phones. Finally, they got smart. The text came from Rebecca.
“Mom and Dad are freaking out. Someone saw you at Hastings Estate. They want to know what’s going on.”
I showed Michael and his parents.
“What do you want to do?” Robert asked.
“Nothing,” I decided. “They made their position clear. I’m not family anymore, remember?”
But my phone rang again. Rebecca this time. I answered on speaker.
“Laura, what is happening? Mom’s having a meltdown. She says you’re at the Hastings mansion.”
“I am.”
