I was having a meeting with Gwen one day—a solo meeting, as Nicholas was taking the day off—in the first handful of days of February. The weather had remained cold, and there was a bit within it that hadn't been there before, but I found myself hoping that spring weather would start soon. Spring weather meant picnics and trips to the park, and now that Iana was getting older, I knew I would have to come up with some pretty decent tricks to amuse her during the spring and upcoming summer.

This meeting was quieter than a lot of the meetings, because Nicholas had, of late, been asking her questions rapid-fire that the opposing side could ask. I would mainly sit on the sidelines, playing the role of the opposing side, firing out objections or sustaining's whenever it was deemed necessary to do so in the line of questioning. That day, it was just me calmly asking her them, and her polite reply.

"The opposing side won't be nearly that polite, will they?"

I smirked. "No," I replied, shaking my head, "most likely not. Parts of courtroom scenes in Hollywood films are realistic—the opposing side is not obligated to be nice to you. They have to keep it PG, unless the judge has a vendetta against your side. Then you're up shit creek, which is when your case goes the unfortunate route..."

Gwen nodded. "What do you think of Judge Newton?" she asked, and I raised my eyes to hers for a moment. "Not that I would know—the law has never been my thing, just morals. My wife is a surgeon and I'm just a computer programmer—which is only my day job until we get this nonsense out of the way..."

I set my questions down, taking a handful of dried cranberries from my bag. I'd offered Gwen some when she'd come in, but she didn't like eating between meals, and had politely declined the offer. "He seems like he's on the straight and narrow," I replied. "He'd more middle of the road politically, but hates it whenever it's evident that one side is lying. Given the information that you've provided for us, I really think we've got a good shot at this, Gwen."

Gwen nodded. "Could we not talk about the case?" she asked. "I understand that that's what I pay you for, but..."

I smiled at her. "Hey, Gwen, I may be your lawyer, but as long as you pay me, we can talk about whatever you want," I joked with her, setting aside the questions. "Besides, we've been drilling for over two hours now. I think it can be enough for the day. I think we'll be prepared for court on Monday, don't you worry."

Gwen smiled. "Thank you, Murphy. Grace and I almost discuss nothing but the trial these days, and it's beginning to ware on me..."

"You must talk about other things..."

"Well, we talk about Drew, of course... The donor we used for him just got a new shipment in at the sperm bank, and Grace and I have been talking seriously about having another baby..." She regards me then with a smile. "You want to know which one of us carried him, don't you?" she asked, not accusing.

Immediately, I shuffled my papers in front of me. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I've got to work on the openness of my expressions..."

Gwen held up her hand as I slipped some of my papers into my bag. "You don't have anything to apologize for, Murphy—curiosity is quite all right. After all, you work for me, and it's bound to come out sooner or later."

I blinked. "What is?"

"Grace is about fifteen years older than I am," Gwen replied. "Grace is forty, and I'm only twenty-five."

"Oh," I said, feeling relieved that it wasn't something sinister. "Age gaps shouldn't matter. Well, they should," I went on, amending my statement, "but I guess one as small as that shouldn't matter very much. As long as you're happy..."

"I think we are," Gwen said quietly. "And Grace was the one who carried Drew. She was thirty-five when we made the decision to have a baby."

"How long have you been together?" I asked.

"Seven years, although we met two years before that," she replied, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise at that. "Grace's father is high-ranking in the police force, so despite the fact that Grace became a surgeon, she's well-versed in the law."

"So, who was into who first?" I asked.

Gwen smiled. "We met at a function in Los Angeles," she replied. "I was touring with Geoff promoting our brand while Grace was at the medical function. I went over because I had a headache and she sorted me out. Needless to say, I was attracted to her immediately, but once she figured out who I was—and that I was only sixteen—she put the brakes on the relationship immediately. It left me heartbroken."

"Rightly so," I replied, "on both ends."

"Of course, I see that now," Gwen replied with a laugh. "But, back then, I was a sixteen-year-old app creator and all I could think about was my first broken heart. Sometimes, when depression hits you, it sends you down a dark path."

"Not you?" I guess.

She shook her head. "Not me. My work output increased twofold, and I was perfecting the creation and the system faster than lightning. All I could think was, Get over it Gwen, and, pretty soon, I hit eighteen. I was at a club with some of my girlfriends—I was the only lesbian, but I'd been out for two years..."

"Did you come out before or after you met Grace?"

"Grace was the wakeup call I needed," Gwen answered honestly. "I was so focused on my work that I never really thought about anyone, until I met Grace. And then she overtook my mind and I had to really buckle down to make our product work."

"So, who reached out to who?" I wanted to know.

She laughed. "I went to her surgery one day after my eighteenth birthday; I even managed to book an appointment so that she would pretty much have to see me. I'd put a rush order on my new I.D., in case she asked to see it, and then when she came into the room, she looked like she had lost it for a moment. I showed her my I.D., and confessed that I was in love with her and wanted to be with her, and then she pretty much asked me to move in with her, and we did, and then we had Drew, and got married when we found out she was pregnant..." Gwen looked up at me then, and laughed again. "Sorry, I'm going on..."

I shook my head. "No, it's all right."

"What about you, Murphy?"

I shrugged. "What about me?"

"Well, I noticed that there looks like there's something between you and Nicholas," she said, and I immediately lowered my eyes. "I'm right, aren't I?"

I sighed. "You're not wrong..."

"I knew it!" she said, slapping the table, causing my eyes to lock with hers. "Sorry—I tend to do that whenever I get excited."

I shrugged again. "Doesn't bother me."

"So, I know Nicholas joined the firm full-time shortly after you did—online bios on the firm's website," she explained, and I nodded. "But when did you two start dating? You've mentioned your little girl, Iana, a few times, but I know that Nicholas isn't her father."

I shook my head. "No. I got pregnant with Iana during a one-night-stand, about a month after I moved to the South Side."

"Oh. I didn't know she was unplanned."

I laughed. "All of this was unplanned—except for working at the firm," I replied. "That was always the plan, ever since Allie reached out to me and offered me the position."

"When was that?"

"In my senior year of college," I replied. "We had a Skype interview, because I was studying for midterms and I couldn't leave."

"You mentioned you were adopted."

I nodded. "Yeah, when I was three months old."

"So, you didn't grow up here?"

"No," I replied. "I was born here, but I was relocated to Seattle when I was three months old, and lived there until I graduated with my Master's Degree when I was twenty-one."

"So, you just found your birth family?"

"Within a few weeks," I replied, not sure if I should get into all the details. "Nicholas and I had slept together a handful of times before I found out I was pregnant. And then, once I found out, we pretty much kept away from each other, on that level, at least, until after my daughter was born in May..."

"What happened?"

I sighed. "I was kind of seeing someone, and he was really seeing with someone—living with her, even—and I made my objective known, that I wanted to be physical with him again. He turned me down, but then, after he and his girlfriend broke up, we began messing around again on a regular basis..."

"And the guy you were seeing? Was it serious?"

"To him it was," I said quietly. "He seemed to enjoy the fact that I was there to be on his arm on a regular basis. But he was more into it than I was. And then when he asked to be exclusive, it was a shock to me that Nicholas was devastated by it, but me and Nicholas continued to deny that there was anything between us until..."

"Until what?" Gwen asked, rapt.

"Until Josh—the guy I was seeing—asked me to marry him," I replied. "I didn't say anything, but Nicholas mistook the interaction, thinking I'd accepted. So, I just thought about it for a while before ultimately deciding against it."

"Josh wasn't so perfect after all?" Gwen guessed.

I shook my head. "No. No, he was not."

"What'd he do?"

"Cheated on me with a co-worker, Chrissy," I replied, and Gwen looked shocked. "Hey, I was sleeping with Nicholas, so I'd be a damned hypocrite for calling him out for being a liar. I threw the ring back into his face and broke his nose, and then Nicholas and I got together that same night. I came over here, and went into his office, and we talked, and I told him I didn't want to just keep sleeping with him. I knew his stance on relationships and even though that was the case, I knew I had to tell him the truth..."

"Josh and Chrissy?" Gwen asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

Gwen sat back in her chair, regarding me then. "They doctors?"

"Yeah, at Mercy Hospital."

Gwen raised her eyebrows. "Wow."

"What?"

"Grace works with them," Gwen replied.

"Oh," I said. "They friends or something?"

Gwen laughed aloud then. "Oh, fuck no!" she cried out, shaking her head. "No. Grace thinks they're a bunch of nobodies. They're fucking rude to her, and everyone else they work with, but Josh has his mother—and the hospital board—wrapped around his little finger. It's as if so many people in our minds can do no wrong," she said, almost wistfully.

"Yeah?" I ask her. "You speaking from experience?"

Gwen shrugged. "I don't know if it's relevant."

I scoffed. "Gwen, I'm the lawyer here," I replied. "I'll decide if it's relevant or not. If it pertains to the timeline of events in your case, then I'd say it is. Let me have it."

She sighed. "Well, I'm not a hundred-percent sure if this is what it is, but Geoff only took me off the books after I moved in with Grace."

I raised my eyebrows. "Did he?"

She nodded. "Took me off the books and cleaned out my accounts. Sent me only a fraction of a salary, calling it severance pay, and said for me to never speak to him again."

"Was it an email? Or a note?" I asked.

Gwen reached into her purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "I never go anywhere without it," she said.

I took the piece of paper and unfolded it slowly.

You and that so-called doctor of yours can just keep your nose out of the Eastman family and all the money I singlehandedly made from my products. Mom and Dad say you can only come home when you start to abide by a more conventional lifestyle. —G

"Is it anything?" Gwen asked as I raised my eyes to hers. "Like I said, I don't really follow anything but computer and media-driven events..."

I sighed, saddened that Gwen seemed to have no idea what this was. "Gwen," I said, very slowly and very carefully, "this, right here, is evidence of a hate crime."

. . .

I went home with a clearer head that weekend, having emailed Nicholas about my discussion with Gwen, giving him all the necessary details for the future of the case. He'd gotten back to me pretty quickly, letting me know that I'd done a good thing in getting Gwen to open up about her personal life a bit, which had given us leverage against the opposing side. I acknowledged the compliment in that I merely replied I was doing my job, which is what any attorney should do when given a vital piece of information like that.

I was also pleased in the weeks since Iana had quit breastfeeding, she didn't seem to want to go back to it. In fact, as my daughter neared her second birthday, she'd become even more independent, toddling around the house and eating her assortment of baby food products without any complaints. As she continued to grow and amaze me—as well as the rest of the family—all I could think about was the striking resemblance she bore to her biological father, and I could see the momentary moments of pain behind Ian's eyes whenever he looked at her.

"Plans for the weekend?" Ian asked as I came downstairs on Saturday morning, Iana desperate to get out of my arms and run around.

I shrugged. "Not really."

Ian smirked. "You do remember what day it is tomorrow, don't you?" he asked, and I gave him a look of confusion as I set Iana upon her feet.

"Of course I know," I fired back, taking out my phone and accessing my calendar, whereupon I raised my eyebrows. "Okay. No. I didn't know."

Ian laughed then, but when I raised my eyes to his, he quickly went silent. "Well, what are you going to do tomorrow, then?"

I shook my head, pocketing my phone. "No plans."

"Really?" he asked as I scooped up Iana again, placing her in her highchair.

"Really," I replied, grabbing a jar of baby oatmeal from the cabinet, and spooning it into a bowl for Iana. "I'm just going to warm this up and put some peaches on it for you," I called to her, and Iana clapped her hands together.

"Trevor and I are getting together tonight," Ian put in as I popped the bowl of oatmeal into the microwave and keyed in the time. "He's working tomorrow so we can't do it then."

"On a Sunday?" I asked, making a grab for a peach and washing it beneath the tap before wrapping it in a paper towel and slicing it. "Really?"

"Yeah. Some new support group thing about how you supposedly don't need a significant other in your life..."

I gave Ian an annoyed expression. "I'm guessing this group is geared towards teenagers who should be focused more on getting their diplomas than anything else."

Ian grinned leaning up against the counter. "Maybe."

"You're awful," I replied, shaking my head at him as I tried to keep myself from laughing. I reached into the microwave when it went off and grabbed the bowl, setting it onto the counter and spreading the small pieces of peaches throughout its surface. "Okay, baby," I said, turning back to Iana, "breakfast time," I say, retrieving a spoon before placing it upon her tray of her highchair. "It's hot, so wait a little, okay?"

"I only ask because I'm free to babysit tomorrow night, if you need me to," Ian said as Liam came down the stairs, bleary-eyed. "Hey, bud."

"Hey, little man," I said, walking towards him, and he mutely held me for a moment before trudging over to the table. "Hungry?"

He sighed. "Yeah."

"What would you like?"

Liam lifted up his head. "I'll do it," he said, getting up again and trudging towards the freezer, getting out two frozen waffles, and popping them into the toaster. He stood in silence before grabbing a plate, knife, and fork, and I got out the butter and maple syrup for him. "Thank you, Murphy," he said, his voice a monotone.

"Up late last night?" I asked, kissing his head.

He sighed. "Yeah."

"Well, don't do it often," Ian said. "You need sleep."

Liam nodded. "I know," he said. He got out his waffles, buttering and slathering them with syrup before making his way over to the T.V., and switching it on.

"Come on," Ian said, turning back to me. "Nicholas seriously hasn't ask you out for tomorrow night yet? Really?"

I rolled my eyes. "Look, it's not a big deal," I replied, fishing a granola bar from the cabinet and biting into it. "Besides," I continued, my mouth slightly full, causing Ian to look away from me in an impatient manner, "you know as well as I do that a recurring thing for massive blow-out dates like that is when they have to apologize for something."

Ian sighed, continuing to lose patience with me. "You know as well as I do that Nicholas has plenty to apologize for, Murphy."

"Yes, but he doesn't know that I know about it."

"That doesn't matter, Murph—none of it matters," Ian replied, throwing up his hands as his exasperation took over. "He really hurt you—I don't have to be your twin, or your brother, to know that much," he said, and let out a grumble as I looked away from him. "Nicholas probably thinks he's gotten away with it..."

"Or he's waiting for a good time to tell me about it..."

"Murph, he needs to tell you."

"I know that," I replied, taking another bite of my granola bar, growing annoyed with just how organic it tasted. "I know he needs to tell me..." I sighed, leaning up against the counter, watching Iana eat her breakfast, blissfully unaware of the main topic of our conversation, just content with her oatmeal and peaches. "He almost told me..."

"What?" Ian asked, snapping to attention. "When?"

"A few weeks ago—after Geoff the A-S-S-H-O-L-E said something that first day in court," I replied, my shoulders slacking.

"Why didn't I know this?" he asked.

I turned and looked up at him. "Because I didn't tell you."

"Why not?" he wanted to know.

I sighed. "I'm telling you now. Isn't that what counts here?"

Ian rolled his eyes. "Fine. Tell me."

"He said that if we communicated a bit more..."

"That sounds like he's pinning the entire thing on you, and you know it."

"He mentioned things being out—everything—and I knew," I said quietly. "I knew he wanted to tell me, but I couldn't let him say it."

Ian sighed. "This is officially getting ridiculous, Murphy. You won't tell him that you know, and now you're telling me that he could've told you three weeks ago, and you just couldn't let him say it? Are you out of fucking your mind?!"

"Ian!" I cried, looking and seeing that Iana had finished her breakfast, and managed not to make a mess of herself of the highchair. I took the bowl away and put it into the sink, turning to see that Liam had finished his breakfast as well. "Liam, could you take Iana upstairs and play with her for a while?" I asked.

Liam nodded, seeming to have forgotten his sleep-deprivation. "Sure," he replied, getting to his feet and putting his plate and silverware into the dishwasher, before taking Iana by the hand and leading her upstairs.

"You can't speak that way in front of Iana," I said firmly, turning around to look at Ian. "Look, I get that you're fucking pissed at me—and, believe me, I'm just as pissed at myself as you are—but you need to seriously remember that Iana can talk now. She's almost two, and she could even remember some of this someday."

Ian sighed. "You're right, I'm sorry. I am pissed at you, Murphy, but I shouldn't have said that in front of Iana. I'm sorry."

I gave a stiff nod, crossing my arms. "It's okay."

"So, why couldn't you just get him to admit it?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I don't know."

Ian hesitated for a moment, mulling over his words before he allowed himself to speak to me again, almost as if he was reluctant to do so. "Look... I know we've had talks about it, and you've discussed it with Fiona, and I know that you'd prefer not to talk about it, but I really have to ask you, Murph..."

"What?" I asked.

"Is it because you love him?" Ian asked.

I scoffed, crumpling up the wrapper of my granola bar and shoving it into the trash can. "You're right," I said, shaking my head at him as I moved into the living room, "I would prefer not to talk about it."

Ian followed me. "Murph..."

"No," I said, my voice firm as I went to the corner where all of Iana's toys were kept. "You know that I don't want to talk about it, so stop fucking bringing it up."

"Murphy!" Ian said, his voice firm.

I picked up a pile of Iana's books, before turning around then, to see that he was standing directly behind me. "I said no!" I shouted at him. "I said I didn't want to talk about it! Why in the hell can't you leave it alone?!"

"Because it's hurting you!" Ian cried out then, and I opened my mouth automatically to express my retort, but Ian held up his hand. "I can see that this—all of this—is hurting you, Murphy, and the sooner you and Nicholas are on the same page, I think it'll be better."

I hesitated for a moment, contemplating what to say, when suddenly my phone buzzed from inside my pocket. Mutely, I handed over the books to Ian and looked to see who it was, slightly surprised that Nicholas's name was on the caller I.D. "Hello?" I asked, answering the phone, which caused Ian to swear under his breath, before slamming the books back onto the shelf and walk out the back door.

"Hey, Murph, it's me," Nicholas said on the other end.

"Hi!" I said, a little too enthusiastically. "What's going on?"

"I was wondering if you were busy tomorrow night," he said quietly. "It's Valentine's Day, and I thought, since we're a couple now, we should do something."

I nodded. "Uh-huh," I replied. "Did you make reservations?"

"Two weeks ago," Nicholas replied.

I nodded. "Yeah. Okay," I said. "We can do something."

He chuckled. "Don't sound too happy about it," he said.

"Oh, right—sorry!" I said, sounding really unlike myself. "Of course I'd like to do something with you tomorrow night, Nicholas!"

He laughed. "Good... And tonight?"

"Tonight, Ian has a date with Trevor, so I'm here with Iana watching Liam," I replied.

"I see," he said on the other end of the phone, as there was a knock at the door. "Well, I'll just let you get back to it..."

"Not that I wouldn't want to see you," I said quickly, walking over to the door.

"It's all good," he replied. "I'll see you at six tomorrow night. I'll pick you up."

I nodded. "Sounds great! See you then!" I said, cutting the call and walking the rest of the way towards the door, opening it up, and feeling my entire body run cold when I saw who stood on the porch. "What are you doing here?" I demanded.

"Miss me?" Josh asked, a wicked look in his eyes.