The thing about Katherine May is that she is very perceptive.

Some celebrity gossip show seems to have her attention. I attempt to creep into her state-of-the-art kitchen in the penthouse overlooking Central Park that she now shares with Winston Trust and try to steal a cup of coffee unnoticed before heading out to my last meeting of the week.

“Margaret Elizabeth.”

I freeze, and glance over my shoulder as I finish pouring the hot brew. “Yes, Mother.”

Formal words for the formal greeting.

“Let’s talk.”

“I can’t. I have a meeting that I don’t want to be late for.”

There’s a look of disbelief on her face. “I spoke to Jordan earlier about some Simon Warren loose ends, and he happened to mention to me that your meeting isn’t until ten.” She tilts her head to the side and motions toward the table. “We have plenty of time.”

Sighing, I fix my coffee and then take a seat at the table and look out the window at the rain.

Dreary.

Dreary.

Dreary.

My mother sits across from me with her cup in her hand. “What’s going on, honey? Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me.”

And yes, I know this, and that is why those tears I forced myself to stop shedding sometime before dawn come back before I can even take my first sip of coffee.

Quick to action, my mother takes charge and we move to the family room and sit on the white sofa, where I cry and cry and cry in her arms and cry some more until I finally tell her, “I’m pregnant.”

At first she says nothing, but then her face lights up. “Oh Maggie! I can’t believe it, but my baby is having a baby.”

I force myself to sit up. “Mom, I’m unmarried and with a man I’ve only been together with for two months, tops.”

She shrugs. “Do you love him?”

I nod.

“Does he love you?”

I nod. “I think so.”

“Then Maggie, the rest will work itself out.”

That’s not true. It’s not that simple. He’s not a prince and I’m not a princess, and this isn’t some fairy tale that I never read. Resolutely, I look at her and shake my head. “No, Mom, it won’t. What if Keen isn’t ready for a baby? What if he turns his back on us? What if—”

Oh, God, the what-ifs…I learned this from Makayla.

Damn her!

My mother smooths her hand down the side of my face. “Oh, honey, he might be shocked, and it might take him a bit to figure out what this means to him, but Maggie May, he is not your father.”

A shiver runs through me. I was an unwanted daughter. I would never want to put my child through that.

My child.

My baby.

My baby.

Our baby.

An emotion I can’t decipher crosses my mother’s face. “I’ll be right back.”

She gets up and once she leaves the room, I put my hand on my belly.

My baby.

This is my baby.

Our baby.

And maybe for the first time I really, truly understand why my mother kept my father’s identity from me as long as she did. Thinking about him as a powerful man who was very busy doing great things was easier to accept as a child than the truth. The truth that the man she loved had chosen another, married another, had a family of his own, and the very real truth that he never wanted me. He didn’t want me, but she did. And she didn’t want to hurt me.

My mother returns and hands me an envelope I thought she’d long ago destroyed. “I think it’s time you read this, Maggie.”

With trembling hands, I take the envelope my father left me when he died. “You were supposed to burn it.”

She tilts her head to the side. “I kept it for you until you were ready to read it. And I think you are finally ready.”

I nod. Swallow. Gulp.

My mother leaves me alone, and with shaky fingers I unseal the envelope and then slowly unfold the parchment paper.

Maggie,

If you’re reading this, I was a coward. I never approached you. I tried at least one hundred times.

My beautiful little girl grew up so fast. I blinked and you went from a child to a young adult, and yet I still didn’t find the courage to introduce myself.

Regret is a hard thing to live with and I am filled with it. I wish I would have embraced fatherhood, I wish I wouldn’t have turned my back on your mother when she told me about you, and even more that I wouldn’t have turned my back on you. I wish I had been stronger and hadn’t listened to those around me about what was best for my political career.

In the end, you must know that I’m the one who missed out.

Know this, Maggie: I watched you from afar, and never has distance been so great. Not having the courage to bridge that distance is my biggest regret.

As the rain falls outside, I fold the letter up with tears streaming down my face, and then I look out the window and the day seems a little brighter.

My father wanted me.

He wanted me.