“Your mother,” he muttered, his voice trailing off into a half-finished whisper. “She has the logistics sorted out. Just let it be, Audrey.”
I turned my back on them and walked out of the room.
The heavy fire door clicked shut behind me, but the silence of the corridor offered no relief. My father’s soft-soled shoes squeaked on the tile a moment later as he followed me out into the hallway.
He stopped three feet away, his head still tilted down toward his chest.
“You knew about this,” I said.
Richard did not look at my face. He stared at the brass buckle of my purse.
“Brooke was… she was very fragile last spring,” he muttered, his hand going back to his temple. “We did not want to cause any undue stress during the first trimester. Gavin took care of everything.”
“Gavin is my husband, Dad. We have been married twelve years. We built Sterling and Sage together.”
“The baby,” Richard said, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly mumble. “A grandson. Your mother has been waiting so long. We just want peace, Audrey. We cannot have a scandal in the papers.”
