When Emma parked Kyle's car in front of her house, she unbuckled her seatbelt, placed her arms over the steering wheel, and started to cry. She didn't know if it was the pregnancy hormones or the fact that she felt like a complete idiot. She saw the hurt that flashed across Kyle's eyes when she told him about New York - something she hadn't actually meant to do. Not until she knew for sure.

But now, she realized what a fool she had been. Emma had purposefully kept that secret from Kyle because she didn't want to share her dreams with anyone. No one knew about New York except for her father. Why wouldn't she tell her boyfriend of nearly two years? Unless she didn't wholly trust Kyle. But that didn't make sense because there was no reason for her not to trust him. He was trustworthy and dutiful and always there when she needed him. And she... well, she assumed that eventually, he would leave, just like her mother did. Which was why she kept him at an arm's length. She didn't invite him to recitals, thinking it would be a bother since it sometimes clashed with his hockey schedule. She didn't invite him to eat dinner with her and her father for the same reason. They did date every now and then - go out by themselves dressed up and romantic. They didn't spend holidays together - a lot of the time, he was traveling anyway.

Why didn't this bother her until now?

Probably because she was okay with this safe relationship, superficial in all its commitment. When push came to shove, though, they weren't really boyfriend or girlfriend, were they? Not when they didn't share things with each other. Not when they didn't trust each other enough to open up.

And sure, Kyle did have hockey to focus on, but he always made it clear just how much he loved her and how lucky he was to be with her. To the point where he was allowing her to dictate this relationship and where it went. He wanted to be with her in whatever way she would take him. And she chose to keep him out.

Because she was afraid.

She wasn't certain how long she cried for but she did know her nose was blotchy, her face was wet with tears and mucus, and her head hurt more than it had in a long time. When she finally ran out of tears to cry, she continued to hiccup, her entire body expelling the hiccup with jumping shoulders and a stuffed nose.

By the time Emma walked into the house, it was well past eleven o'clock. She expected her father to be in his office, looking at paperwork for his latest case or sleeping. Instead, he was on the couch, reading a newspaper - one of the last people to do so - almost as though he was waiting for her. When he heard the click of the door, he lowered the newspaper and gave Emma a small smile.

"I've been waiting for you to come in," he told her, his lips quirking up into a small smile.

She sniffles. Any hope of hiding her tears or the fact that she had been crying for a good duration of time went out the window. She felt his eyes on her face, noting the dropping mascara, the red face, the tear-stained cheeks, the crusted nose. She was a disaster.

"How did you know I'd even be back this soon?" she asked through a hiccup.

"To be honest," her father murmured, folding the paper, setting it down on the coffee table, and removing his thin-rimmed reading glasses, "Kyle called me and told me that the two of you got into a bit of a tiff at the restaurant. He wanted me to text him when you got home just to make sure that you made it home safely."

Before she could stop herself, her eyes started to fill tears. She immediately looked away, hoping her father wouldn't notice. The problem with her father was that, as a lawyer, he noticed everything.

"Em?" he asked, slowly standing up and keeping his sharp eyes on her. "You okay? I know Kyle said you guys had a tiff. Do you want to talk about it?"

Emma shook her head, trying to maintain control of herself. Her face was sore, her eyes were exhausted, and her headache was starting to come back. She hated crying so damn much and yet she couldn't control these emotions no matter how hard she tried.

"Well, can I hug you until you stop crying?" he asked, slowly coming over to her, reaching his arms out. Emma didn't hesitate to step into the hug her father offered and buried her face in his plain white t-shirt. It would probably be ruined after her cry but he didn't seem to mind. "When you're ready to talk - if you're ready to talk - I'm here for you, okay?"

She nodded in his chest and let the emotion pour out of her, not bothering to try and push it away anymore. Not when she felt so safe.

It took a few moments - not nearly as long as the first time - but Emma finally felt herself start to wind down. Her father gently led her over to the couch so they could sit together and relax as best as they could.

"I've never been the one to claim I have a sense of intuition," he began slowly, his voice a gentle murmur against her ear, "but it seems to me that something is troubling you." He pulled his head away from hers, his eyes going over her face. She knew he was looking for any tell he could find, any indication of what she had in her mind. "I'm not an expert in everything. I hardly say the right things at the right time and even when I try, it all comes out wrong. But I'm still your dad. I'm still here for you when you need me, even if that's not right now."

Emma's heart broke and she felt herself cry even harder than she had been before. She felt her father tense and she knew he was taking it personally, as though he was the one who was causing the tears. And, in a way, he was. But not because he meant to. Not because of malice or ill-intentions. He was saying exactly what she needed to hear right now.

"Dad," she said, sniffling as best as she could. Her head was completely clogged and she wanted nothing more than to take off her clothes and crawl under her covers, feeling the cool, smooth sheets caress her skin. Instead, she forced herself to continue, forced herself to admit what she hadn't admitted to anyone save for Harper. "Dad, I really messed up and I don't know what to do about it."

There was a heartbeat of silence. He tensed as he continued to hold her, continued to offer her whatever comfort he could.

"Okay," he finally said slowly. She knew the worst case scenarios were going off in his head and she couldn't help but wonder if unplanned pregnancy was part of those scenarios. "What, exactly, did you do, Emma? You didn't cheat on Kyle, did you?"

"What?" Emma pushed off her father and gave him a watery glare. "No, Dad, I did not cheat on the man I love, thank you very much."

"Well, excuse me," her father replied. "You said worst case. I'm just going with what you've given me." He gave her a sideways look. "You didn't hit him or verbally abuse him, did you?"

Emma nearly laughed at that insinuation. "No, Dad," she told him. "You know I don't fight typically. At least, not with my hands."

"That's why I added verbal abuse," he pointed out.

"Clearly, you're kidding," she said.

He raised his brows, a dry look on his face. "Clearly."

He nudged her with his shoulder. "Tell me." Then, quieter, he added, "Please."

"Dad," she said, taking a deep breath. She picked her eyes up and locked onto his. She wanted him to see how serious she was. "I'm pregnant."

There was a tight breath, sucking in sharply, tight and tension-filled. She could feel her father shift beside her, his entire body tense. Just like the air. She could count the heart beats sounding off in her head.

She let out a shaky breath, needing him to say something.

Anything.

"Okay," he finally managed to get out. He nodded his head once. "Okay. So what you're saying is you have a child in-" he stopped, closed his eyes, shook his head, gritted his teeth so his jaw popped. Opened his eyes, took a breath. "I don't want to think about how it happened. Would you mind telling me why it happened?"

Emma nodded. While his voice came out muffled and tight, at least he sounded... open. Open to the possibility that she didn't mean for this and she was coming to him for help. For guidance.

"A stupid mistake," she said, speaking quickly. "Do you really want to know the details? It happened in Vegas, I think. It's the only time we -" She cut herself off. Even though her father was an adult and she was an adult did not make it any easier to talk about sex with him. She might have trusted him with her life but that didn't mean she was able to talk about this sort of thing with him. "We were both tipsy."

"You don't drink," he said flatly.

"When you're in Vegas..." She let her voice trail off and shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, clearly it doesn't always stay in Vegas, does it?" he snapped and then winced. "I didn't mean to snap. Emma, you always have a good head on your shoulders. You're entitled to mess up every once in a while. But this isn't some mess up to be taken lightly. Does Kyle know?"

She shook her head, biting her bottom lip. "I haven't told him yet," she told him.

"Oh." A suck in of breath, like a small vacuum. "Do you plan on it?"

"Dad," Emma said, shaking her head. "I have no idea what my plan is, to be honest. I have no idea what I'm going to do. I just... I just need time to process this. I have nine months, right?"

"Honey, you're having a baby," her father pointed out. "You need to make choices now. You need to figure out what you're going to do. But I'm here for you, okay? I'm here."

He pulled her into a hug, and for the moment, that was all Emma needed.