Night was a blur. We made love in more times and more positions than I could remember. All I knew was that after each time, Peter cuddled with me, pressing kisses all over my face and holding me like I was the most precious thing on the planet.
"Did you mean what you said?"
"Mmm ... what?" I was half-asleep, cuddled against him.
"I said, did you mean what you said? About making a baby?"
"Yes. Very serious." He squeezed me so tight that I yelped, laughing and giving him a punch. "Geez, Peter! Are you trying to kill me?"
"No, sorry." He just settled me back against him. "You just made me very happy."
"I'm glad, honey. Now can we go to sleep?"
Morning came quickly and we were awakened by a knock on the door. Peter told me to stay in bed while he pulled on a robe and went to answer it. When he came back, he handed me a robe. "Your father's here."
I couldn't get out of bed fast enough. "Daddy!" I raced across the room and threw myself into his arms, squeezing him tight. After I pulled back and saw his face, I realized what he was seeing: his daughter and a man in robes. I knew what he was thinking; I just didn't know how he felt about it. "I'm so glad to see you."
"Are you all right?"
The question was more directed to Peter but we both answered, "Yes."
"I'm really sorry, Mr. Garland ... "
"Peter, please."
"Then call me Alan." I watched them shake hands a second time and we all sat down, Dad in a chair and Peter and I on the couch. His eyes followed our movements and he hid his expression behind his hand. "So ... you want to tell me what's going on?" It took about thirty minutes to tell my father everything. He listened, at times awestruck by the scope of mother's interference, but didn't say anything until I had finished. "I had no idea that things had gotten this out of hand, Taylor. Why didn't you tell me?"
"She's your wife, Daddy. I assumed that you'd take her side."