I walked into the conference room that Friday morning in the third week of January, armed with my research on our latest case on Jackie Farris, an heiress who was under investigation for the murder of her wealthy grandfather. Jackie's father, Paul Farris, was the executor of Johnson Farris' estate, but Paul had a rock-solid alibi, and couldn't have been the murderer. I sat down in my usual spot, chewing my dried cranberries, and waited for Nicholas to arrive so we could go over strategy for the case.

Opening arguments had been set for the first week of September, so my research, at this point, was preliminary, but, I reasoned, far more detailed than necessary. Even though I enjoyed peppering the biographies with my own personal vocabulary, I had soon come to realize that simplicity was best when it came right down to it, and I found that Nicholas could sometimes grow annoyed with my words.

"Hope you slept well last night," Nicholas said by way of greeting as he walked into the conference room with that confident flair of his, "because you and I are not leaving this room until our strategy discussion is exhausted."

I pursed my lips, looking up from my notes. "And tell me again who decided to start strategy planning eight months before the trial?" I ask him.

Nicholas smirks, sitting across from me. "You know as well as I do that we wouldn't start for another few weeks, but one of us is having a baby, and won't be on-hand as much. This way, you have less work to do in the future, meaning that you'll have more bonding time with whatever name you've decided for the baby."

"Iana," I said, tapping my pen impatiently against my stack of papers. "I told you that. I told the whole office that."

"Yeah, right. After your brother."

"Both my brothers," I reply, rolling my eyes before turning back to my notes. "I told you this. I told you my daughter's name is going to be Iana Phillipa Gallagher."

"But just the way it's pronounced—Ee-Ana—it's like you're stretching something to the point of it being unnatural," he replied.

I roll my eyes at him again. "Well, I'm sure if it were up to you, I'd name her something snobby, like Nicole or something..."

Nicholas smirked. "I'm not impartial to it."

I let out a sigh of exasperation, turning the page in my notes. "How's Jasmine?"

Nicholas's smile faded as he pulled his laptop out of his bag, signing in before opening a new Word document and typing up some notes himself. "Yeah, she's fine," he replied. "She's modeling right now, so that's something..."

I nodded. "That is something," I replied. "Does she like it?"

He nodded back. "She seems to enjoy it, although I wish she wouldn't drink as many cocktails at the parties we go to. I'm afraid she's getting too dependent."

"I know what you mean."

He looks up. "Do you?"

"Yeah, my... My biological father, Frank, is an alcoholic, and my brother, Lip, is, too. I had some of the symptoms when I first moved here—drinking too much and relying on that fuzzy feeling you get after the fact." I shrugged. "Thank god for pregnancy, because I don't know what I would've done if I didn't have a reason to stop."

"But you did stop, right?"

"Yeah, once I confirmed the pregnancy," I replied. "The doctors have said that the drinking wasn't so much that it hurt the baby. I'm just relieved that I found out before permanent damage was done, you know?"

Nicholas nodded. "Yeah, I know."

I lowered my pen then for a moment, wanting to figure something out that I had long been questioning. "What are you so afraid of?" I asked, quietly.

He raised his eyes to mine. "Afraid?" he asked, scoffing. "I'm not afraid of anything, Murphy. I mean, I'm a man, and we're not expected to be afraid."

I shake my head at him. "What fucker told you that? If you're human, you're afraid of something, Nicholas. That's the truth."

He sighed. "I don't know. I mean, I guess you could say that, because of my upbringing, I never want to have a family."

I blinked. "Never?"

He shook his head. "No. I mean, it's not something I've ever wanted for myself, and given how my dad was with my mother..."

Without thinking, I reach across the table then, and we mutually find that our breath is sucked in when I grip his hand in mine. "You're not your dad, Nicholas."

He hesitates for a moment before withdrawing his hand from mine. "So I've been told," he replies, shifting backwards, obviously intending to be at arms'-length.

"I'm not either of my parents, and I wasn't raised by either of them," I say quietly. "I had to wait three months for a family that ended up not wanting me in the first place. And yes, I was always afraid of the notion of being close to someone, but I conquered that fear, Nicholas, I did. And when I realized I was pregnant..." I lifted my shoulders then, not knowing what he wanted me to say at this point. "...I jumped at the opportunity."

He shook his head. "I don't know. Hugo and Allie could forgive what I did in my past... I mean, juvie records are usually wiped clean or sealed after a while..."

"Yeah?" I ask him. "You've been to juvie?"

"A few times—I was careful not to do anything after eighteen, and then when I did hit eighteen, I went to military school."

"Military school?"

"Yeah, and they sent me to Afghanistan where I did two back-to-back tours. When I came back, I was twenty-one, and I went to law school."

I lowered my eyes to my notes then. "So, you know how to fight?"

Nicholas nodded. "You could say that."

"Ever kill anyone?"

He sighed. "Unfortunately, yes."

"And juvie?" I asked, not knowing how to pose the question. "How'd that happen?"

"Destruction of property, at first. Graffiti," he said quietly. "Saw it as an act of rebellion. And then it escalated to robbery, and then assault..."

"Assault?" I asked.

He sighed. "Yeah. I was the security guard, I guess you could say, for all the thugs. If they needed someone beaten up, I found out where, when, and why and, once I did it, got a few hundred bucks for it."

"Jesus," I whispered.

"Never women—I drew the line there. And they had to be close to my age and close to my build—I always wanted a fair fight."

"Ever kill anyone that way?"

"Almost—that's what landed me in juvie the last time. I worked the program that time, instead of against it, and then they let me out early. Mom and Dad pulled some strings and got me into the military academy, and the rest was history."

"Think it did any good?" I ask.

Nicholas sighed. "Well, I'll never know what I would've turned into, if I didn't get out of that lifestyle," he replied. "And I became a man my parents could be proud of, so that was something, in the end..."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you proud of yourself?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Have to be," he replied. "I fought for our country, and I'm passionate about the whole thing, I guess. But would I go back? No. I prefer fighting these kinds of legal battles at home, than I do lifting up a machine gun and opening fire."

I lowered my eyes. "Well, the war at home will always need you, Nicholas."

"That's what I assumed when I went to law school," he replied.

. . .

Nicholas had mercy on me in the early hours of mid-afternoon, and allowed me to leave our meeting early so that I could pick Liam up from school. I drove down the main streets of downtown on that sunless day, and knew that, once the sun returned at full-throttle, then I could begin counting the days for when Iana would grace us with her presence. Of course, I'd done that immediately once the dust had settled on Mickey being her father, and when I'd received Ian's blessing to keep her, but, somehow, in the weeks that had passed since Christmas when I realized she was a girl, I found myself a lot more at ease.

I parked in the lot of Liam's school and got out, making my way onto the playground and to where all the other parents were waiting. I didn't stand with anyone in particular, just in an obvious place so that Liam would see me when he got out of school. Once the doors opened and the children came out at the run, I caught sight of him in the crowd, relief flowing through me at how pleased he was to see me. When he got closer I bent down then to hug him properly, and he hugged me back, hard, and I kissed his forehead before reverting to my standing position, taking his backpack and his hand.

"Hey, little man," I said as I walked him to my car. "Did you have a good day?"

"Yeah," he replied. "What's for dinner?"

I smiled. "I'm making a chicken later, and Ian's going to make some potatoes and you, young man, are going to eat the green beans tonight."

Liam sighed. "Okay."

"But, I'm making cookies when we get home," I said as I unlocked my car, waiting for him to get into his booster seat before handing him his backpack.

Liam looked suspicious at that. "Why?"

I smiled, kissing his forehead again before getting into the car. "Well, because it's Friday, and Ian's coming home early," I replied. "And, because you got that A+ on your latest book report, of course," I said indulgently.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," I replied, settling myself into my own seat and making sure we were both buckled up before I started the car. "And the family's coming over tonight."

"Who's coming?"

"Fiona, Lip, Debbie, and Franny," I replied.

Liam smiled as we pulled out of the parking lot. "Yay!" he cried, clapping his hands. "I want to read them my book report."

"I'm sure they'd love that," I tell him, stopping at the first traffic light. "What's the homework situation for this weekend?"

"Read more of my book, math problems, and I have to write a story," he replied.

"Well, doesn't that sound like fun?" I say, pulling through the light once it turned green. "Did your teacher say what the story should be about?"

Liam shook his head. "No. But it's not due until Easter."

"Oh," I said, thinking that it was an odd thing to assign so early before its due date. "Well, then maybe we can think up some ideas, and try to work out what you want it to be about by Valentine's Day. Okay?"

Liam nodded. "Okay."

We drove the rest of the way home, with me listening to Liam about the latest classroom gossip about how Suzie Nelson had told Geoffrey Lewis that she did not like him. Liam was animated in his storytelling, and was adamant that Suzie had a crush on Otto Sturgess, but that the whole thing was gross because girls had cooties.

I smirked in the front seat. "Where did Suzie tell Geoffrey this?" I ask.

"On the playground, after lunch," Liam replied offhandedly. "She was annoyed because Geoffrey always offered Suzie his Jell-O."

"What's wrong with that?" I ask.

"Geoffrey always offers Suzie his orange Jell-O, and Suzie is allergic to citrus," Liam explained in a patient manner.

I raised my eyebrows. "But Geoffrey's not doing it to be mean?"

"She said he didn't remember anything she ever told him."

"Oh," I said, understanding now. "And Otto remembers things?"

"Yes," Liam replied. "Otto knows that Suzie likes strawberry Jell-O."

When we arrived home, I gave Liam permission to watch cartoons while I began to prepare dinner that evening, wandering around the kitchen to make sure I remembered where everything was lurking. I was relieved when Ian came in around five, and got to work with helping me with the potatoes and green beans. I turned every now and then to Liam, who was now multi-tasking with his math problems in his lap, while watching some monster movie in the background as Ian and I cooked.

"Trevor coming tonight?" I asked Ian.

Ian nodded. "Yeah. He said he might stop by later."

"Cool," I replied, opening the oven to baste the chicken before shoving it back in. "Liam ever tell you about Suzie Nelson?"

"And Geoffrey Lewis?" Ian asked.

I nodded. "Yeah."

Ian grinned. "Pretty much every day. It's like a goddamned soap opera or something..."

I shrugged. "Nicholas's life is a fucking soap opera, man..."

"Really?" Ian asked. "I thought that was over?"

I shrugged. "I mean, Josh and I are thinking about going out after Iana's born, and Nicholas is dating Jasmine, a former star witness of ours, but..."

"But?"

I tried to push the topic away. "I-I don't know. I can't deny that there's something there, lurking beneath the surface, but I don't think either one of us wants to be the one to address it. Besides, there's our pasts to consider, plus his record..."

"Whoa, whoa. Nicholas has a record?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Went to juvie a handful of times before he went into the army. Did two tours in Afghanistan before he came back and went to law school."

"Are you having trouble deciding between Nicholas and Josh?"

"I guess, on a shallow level, yeah..."

Ian made a face, turning back to the stove to check and see if the potatoes were softening. "How is any of this shallow?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because one of them is practical—good job, no record—and the other one I have major chemistry with and yet he's got a record and he doesn't seem to want to have kids..."

"But Iana's not his kid."

I crossed my arms, waiting for Ian to turn around before I continued. "That's not the point, and you know that, Ian. The point is that I can't just throw Iana away—one girl did that and got charged with manslaughter. I'm not throwing my daughter away—even if Monica did that to me, I won't repeat history by doing it to Iana."

Ian nodded. "You're right. She shouldn't have done that."

I shrugged. "Can't be helped now. The good thing is, I've got all of you around me to love and support me through single motherhood."

Ian smiled. "Of course. We're here for you, Murphy."

I hesitated for a moment, leaning up against the counter as I watched Ian for a moment, reluctant to say what I had to say. "And you know I'm here, right?"

Ian looked up at me. "What? Of course I know, Murphy."

I sighed. "Well, I think you might think I'm leaving..."

Ian turned to face me fully then, his eyebrows knitting together. "Well, I would be lying if I said I didn't dread the day you move out."

I gave a slight nod to that. "So, you understand that day is coming eventually?"

Ian nodded. "Of course."

I stepped forward then, putting my arms around him. "Listen to me—Fiona gave me a very good piece of advice."

"What's that?"

"Well, she said that these houses around here go up for sale every now and again. And I figured that, maybe, in a couple of years, I could move into one..."

Ian pulled back then, his eyes wide. "You mean, you'd stay in the neighborhood? You wouldn't get some hoity-toity apartment?"

I shook my head. "No. These are where my roots are, Ian, and I'm not going to run away from who I am anymore. I'm not."

Ian smiled. "So, what are you saying, Murphy?"

I smiled back at him. "I'm saying I belong here. I'm saying I'm a fucking Gallagher, and that's not ever going to change." I gasped aloud then, my eyes going as wide as Ian's, as I immediately put a hand to my stomach.

"Murph? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I whispered, raising my eyes to Ian's as mine filled with tears. "Nothing's wrong at all. Just...just feel," I say, moving his hand to my stomach, and Ian lets out a small gasp then before he laughs.

"Oh, my god..."

"She knows," I whispered, and Ian looked up at me.

"What does Iana know?"

"Iana knows she's a Gallagher, too," I whisper. I let out a small laugh then, as Iana does small, little flips around inside me. "I can't believe it..."

"It's pretty amazing," Ian replies, bending down. "Iana? Can you hear me? This is your Uncle Ian—closest thing you'll have to a dad for a while."

I gently smacked Ian in the arm, and let out another gasp then, as a swift kick was delivered to my gut, which Ian felt as well. "Man—I get the point, Iana!" I said, rolling my eyes. "I won't hit Uncle Ian again, okay? I promise."

"Does that go for us, too?"

Turning, I see that Fiona, Lip, Debbie, and Franny have all trooped into the house. "Lip, I don't think we need to play 'May the best Gallagher win'...at least, not until I'm recovered from my childbirth," I said with a laugh.

"You two look happy," Fiona said, stepping into the kitchen and putting a chocolate crème pie onto the table, which immediately made my mouth water. "What's going on?"

"The baby moved," Ian said, grinning from ear to ear.

"What?" Fiona demanded, charging forward and placing her hands on my stomach. "Can I talk to her, Murphy?"

"Please," I replied.

"Hi, Iana," Fiona said, her voice soothing. "This is your Aunt Fiona. We all love you so much and we can't wait to meet you."

"Ow! Dammit," I cried out, as I was given another kick in my abdomen. "Jesus, what is it with us Gallagher's that makes us so goddamn attractive?"

"My turn," Debbie said, and Fiona moved to sit with Liam as Debbie and Franny knelt in front of me then. "Hi, baby," my younger sister said fondly. "This is your Aunt Debbie," she went on, touching my stomach, and motioning for Franny to do the same, "and your Cousin Franny. We are so excited about you coming. Get here soon, okay?"

I laughed then, the sound quickly turning into a groan as Iana kicked out at Debbie and Franny's hands before Lip stepped up to the plate. "More people for you to meet," I said quietly to her as Lip knelt down.

"Hey, Iana," he said, placing a hand on my stomach. "This is your Uncle Lip. Um... We're all excited about you being here, in Murphy's stomach and we know that you'll be the best-looking baby in all Gallagher history."

"Hey!" Fiona, Ian, Debbie, and Liam said.

"Sorry," Lip said with a chuckle, turning back to my stomach. "Anyway, just know that you've got a big family that loves you, okay Iana?"

"Jesus," I whispered then, as Iana kicked harder than she ever had before, and more than once, as she went to town on the base of my ribs. "Ow, dammit," I said, laughing.

"You okay?" Ian asked, immediately stepping in as Lip stood back.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, placing a firm hand on my stomach. "Dammit, Iana, please—don't break it. You'll have to buy it." I walked over to the stove then, to check the progress on the chicken, sticking the meat thermometer into a thick portion of the breast. "Just a few more minutes on this, I think," I said to Ian.

"So," he said as I turned around to face him, "thoughts?"

I crossed my arms. "About?"

"Josh or Nicholas?" he asked.

I smiled. "Well, I guess the easy answer is, I don't know," I replied. "Fact is, neither one of them has turned me off completely..."

"But?"

"But I think Nicholas is pretty committed to Jasmine, and the fact that he doesn't want kids or a family in his life..."

"And his record?"

I shook my head at him. "That isn't a problem for me. He's been plenty mad at me before, and he's never hit me..."

"Wait. His charges were for assault?"

"The later ones, yeah."

"Shit," Ian replies. "If he every lays a hand on you—"

"He won't," I said firmly, placing my hands on Ian's arms. "And, if he does, I'll fuck him up worse than he'll ever fuck me up. Trust me."

"But he had army training, Murph. You can't mess with that shit."

I shake my head. "No, you're right, you can't. But I know all about being unassuming—making people think I'm a weakling, when I'm not."

Ian nodded. "Just...be careful..."

I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "I have Iana to think about now, Ian—and then there's the rest of you," I said quietly.

"Yeah, the rest of us," Ian said.

I smiled at him, shaking my head. "What are we going to do with you, Ian Gallagher? One false move and your twin gets out of line..."

"That's not going to fucking happen," Ian said, his voice firm. "Nothing is going to happen to you, Murph, because if Nicholas lays one hand on you, he's a fucking dead man."

"A dead man? What'd I miss?" Trevor asks, walking in the front door.

I turn to Ian. "Your plan. Why don't you take this one?" I ask him sweetly, turning back towards the oven to check the chicken.

"What just happened?" Trevor asked Ian.

"What just happened is the baby's moving," I replied before Trevor could speak, as I placed the chicken on the stove, shutting off the oven, and removing the mits. "Want to see if she'll move for you?" I asked, turning to face him.

"Sure, yeah," Trevor said, stepping forward with a smile. "Hey in there, Iana," he said. "I'm Trevor—I'm your Uncle Ian's boyfriend. I guess you'll be seeing a lot of me once you get out here into the world. Nice to meet you."

"Whoa," I said when Iana punched me then, shocking Trevor. "I think that was a love punch, but we'll have to see..."

Trevor grinned at that before turning to Ian. "So, who's going to be a dead man?"

"Nicholas as a record of assaults," Ian said quietly, his tone heated. "And I merely said if he lays a hand on Murphy, he's dead."

"Oh, completely," Trevor said. "But you've got to let the system do its job, Ian. Don't go getting yourself arrested."

"I'd listen to him if I were you," I said, patting Ian on the shoulder before going to save the potatoes that had been left to their own devices.

. . .

It was a relief, somehow, not to have Nicholas engage me in potentially shocking personal conversations for the next couple of weeks. I had another scan coming up in the progress of my pregnancy, which was always something to look forward to, as I carried Iana closer and closer to her due date. Sometimes, I just found myself sitting, for moments at a time, hand on my stomach, just whispering to her about how much I loved her and how excited I was for her arrival.

On Valentine's Day, after spending a sleepless night going over Liam's class list and writing down their names in the valentine cards—and preparing snacks for the class—I arrived at the office, clutching a smoothie and teas for Rachel and Cindy. Going towards my office, I felt relieved for the orthopedic soles within my heels, which gave me some much needed back support as my pregnancy continued. I'd had a text from Allie that morning, telling me she was spending it with Charlotte but would be in around noon to touch base about the Jackie Farris case with me and with Nicholas.

I opened my office door then, and, as I flipped on the light, I felt my eyes nearly popping out of my head at what I saw. Beautiful bouquets of red roses—my favorite flowers—were in crystal-cut vases of varying sizes throughout my office. My desk boasted the largest vase, which had a card among the petals, as well as a large, red, heart-shaped, box, of what I assumed were chocolates, adorned with a pink bow. Smiling to myself, I crossed the room—leaving my door open as usual—and went to the card, which had my name written in elegant handwriting along the outside surface.

I plucked it from the petals of the roses—relieved when they didn't merely fall apart at my touch—and opened the card. It was an expensive Valentine's Day card, and although I knew the inside poem would likely be a sappy one, written by a starving grad student, I didn't care. The gesture was sweet, and I wondered who had gone out on a limb for me like this.

Dear Murphy, just wanted to reach out again and reiterate my promise to you that I made just last month when we saw each other last. I do intend to see where things go with you once Iana is born, although it does not mean we cannot speak now. I hope we can get together, as friends for now, if that is what you prefer, in the coming weeks to catch up. Let me know when your schedule, and your decision-making, permits.

A very happy Valentine's Day to the most beautiful mother I know.

Sincerely,

Josh

I smiled to myself for, despite the stereotypical gesture, it was all very sweet, and I found the scent of roses to be calming to me. Smiling to myself, I pulled at the ribbon on the box of chocolates and tasted one, relieved that they weren't some gourmet brand and instead were one of those simple ones.

"What happened in here?"

Turning, I saw Nicholas, hovering in my doorway, clearly overwhelmed as he held onto some paperwork. "Just some sentiments from an admirer," I replied.

Nicholas gave a short nod. "May I ask who?"

I laughed. "May I ask why you care?"

Nicholas sighed. "You don't have to tell me, Murphy. It was just a question."

"If you must know, all this is from Josh Fairfax."

"Dr. Joshua Fairfax?" Nicholas demanded, his voice becoming unhinged.

I nodded, perplexed by his reaction. "Yeah. Do you know him?"

Nicholas sighed, clearly angry. "Yeah," he said, shifting his paperwork closer to him before he backed out of my office completely. "Yeah, I know him," he went on, before walking down the hall, presumably towards his office.

Shocked, I immediately reached for my phone as it began ringing, and felt automatic relief when I saw who it was. "Hey," I said.

"Hey. Why do I get the feeling something's wrong?" Ian asked.

I sighed. "Not wrong, so much as confusing."

"Oh, yeah? What happened?"

I bit my lip. "Well, Josh kind of arranged for a few dozen red roses, plus a card and a box of chocolates, to be in my office when I got here..."

"How is that confusing? Clearly, the man likes you..."

I shook my head. "Not Josh—he's not confusing. It's Nicholas."

"What'd that blowhard do now?"

"Hey, be nice," I scolded. "He... I don't know. He looked pretty angry when he came in here and saw everything... And when I told him it was Josh...he looked enraged..."

"Nicholas Blomqvist looked enraged when Josh showed you attention?"

"Yes."

"Clearly he thought he'd marked his territory with you, Murphy," Ian said gently. "I wouldn't worry about it."

"Clearly, these two men have a history," I replied, trying to keep myvoice even, "and I want to know what it is."