Page 134 of Choosing Us

Astor huffs out a condescending laugh. “Harlow, please. You’ve been the smartest person in the room since you were six years old, and you are a doctor. You can’t be surprised how babies are made.” Astor mutters something else to her husband, prompting him to finally participate in the conversation.

“Now, Harlow, we need to figure out how to manage this development,” her dad chimes in. Howard Lane is a spineless social climber who lets his wife walk all over their daughter. I don’t only dislike the man; I don’t respect him.

“We can have our team put together a little PR plan to handle everything. A simple statement should be enough, but optics matter.” Astor is talking more to Ward than us, and I’m about ready to flip a table.

“There is no need to handle any PR related to my pregnancy, Mother. I wasn’t calling to let you know so that you could turn this into a media opportunity. I was calling to let you know you’re going to be grandparents.”

“Grandparents? Oh, heavens, Ward, can you imagine me as a grandma? I need to rearrange the Palm Springs trip so I can get to the med spa before any of those rumors fly.”

I mouth the word ‘rumors’ to Harlow, unsure what her mother is talking about.

“You still look twenty years younger than your age. Your surgeon did a great job with the last facelift, honey. The rumors will just be based in jealousy.” Her father pacifies his wife—ignoring Harlow altogether.

“They are not rumors. Are you kidding me right now? If this is how you are going to choose to behave, then this will be the last phone call we have about this or anything else for the foreseeable future.” Harlow’s annoyed huff at the end falls on deaf ears.

“You run off and marry some random person with no connection to our world, and we don’t even know him, only to call us basically weeks later to tell us you are pregnant without letting us process all this upheaval. What did you expect us to say, Harlow?”

“You are supposed to be excited for your only child, that is the expected response here, but shame on me for giving you the benefit of the doubt. I should have known better.” Harlow’s face falls a little, and I can tell she’s trying to hold back tears.

That’s it.

I’m done being silent.

“Astor and Howard, we would be happy to have our attorneys notify you when the birth occurs, just like we did for our wedding. I think we’ve said everything we need to, unless I’m missing something, darling?” My gaze meets Harlow as I silently plead for her to let me lose on these people. She studies me for a moment before reaching over and taking my hand, giving me a small nod.

“I think my husband is correct. There’s nothing else to discuss here.” The side of Harlow’s lips tip up, and a small grin spreads across her face as she tilts her head toward me. “Unless … was there anything you’d like to add, Ryan?”

Hell fucking yes there is. I squeeze her hand before I turn my glare to the phone. “Just a few things, but I’ll try to keep it brief. We called you to wish you a Merry Christmas and share joyful news, and you chose to once again make it all about you, your image, and your social circles. It’s honestly amazing how ignorant you two are when it comes to the phenomenal woman your daughter is. I feel bad for you.”

“Ha! Excuse me, you feel bad for us? That’s rich,” Ward barks at me.

“I sure as shit do. Your daughter—in spite of your influence and decrepit values—has turned out to be the most exquisite woman I’ve ever met in my life. She is kind, thoughtful, intelligent, and loving.”

“Of course, she’s intelligent. She was a child prodigy. Honestly, we know our daughter,” Astor adds.

“I don’t think you do. I don’t think you actually know her as a person—and for that, I feel bad for you for missing out on the reality of what it means to know and love Harlow Callahan.”

“Her name is Harlow Morgan-Lane!” her mother nearly screeches.

“No, it’s not. She’s Harlow Gisela Callahan, and she is my wife. And I will not sit here and let you take a conversation that was supposed to be joyous and exciting, and in turn, shift the focus back again to your egos. We are done with this conversation, and if you two have an epiphany about your abhorrent behavior and treatment of my wife, then we can have a conversation. But for now? No. For now, we are done here.”

I look to my wife, hoping I didn’t go to far, but I only see love and pride shining back at me. “My husband is right. That’s quite enough. We’re done here.”

Harlow has declined to speak to them since that conversation, not that there has been much to decline other than a request for us to make an appearance at one of their galas. It’s been six months since that phone call, and while the door is open for an apology, that’s the only communication Harlow is interested in from them, and neither of us see that happening. I will do everything in my power to protect Harlow and Brynne from any future attacks, and if I have my way, Brynne will be shielded from the pain that they have caused her mother altogether.

And if they try to hurt either of my girls? They’ll not just have to go through me—they’ll have to go through an entire brigade to get to them.

We protect our own without question and without hesitation.

And Harlow and Brynne? They’re ours.

EPILOGUE

TWO MONTHS LATER

“You’re here!” Savannah’s middle daughter runs up to wrap her arms around my waist as she peers around me to see Ryan carrying Brynne’s car seat and holding Lumi’s leash.

“Of course, we are, sweet girl. Happy birthday!” I give her a big hug before she sneaks a peek at Brynne, hugs Ryan, drops down to hug Lumi, then runs back to her friends.