Kyle didn't call her the next day. Not that Emma expected him to. She had been an asshole about the whole New York thing and instead of at least acknowledging his feelings, she got defensive. She pushed him away, even further away than she kept him since they first got together. 

The problem was, she hadn't even realized she had been doing it until that blowout. She thought she was doing him a favor by purposefully not putting pressure on involving him in certain aspects of her life so he could focus on his hockey game. She realized, however, that ultimately, it kept him away from knowing who she really was. And not because he wanted but because he didn't have a choice. Not if she was making these decisions.

More than that, Emma was kept out of certain parts of his life as a result. How was she supposed to know how he'd react to her dancing or to her applying to New York or even about the issues she had with her mother if she never gave him the opportunity.

"What's the problem, Em?" her father finally asked her that evening over dinner. Emma had made spaghetti with ground beef, something she loved. She had already topped the pasta with a heap of Parmesan cheese - her favorite part. She needed comfort food right now. She needed to feel as good as she could.

"Honestly, Dad?" Emma asked, dropping her fork so it clattered against the plate and dropped her head into her hands. "I really messed things up with Kyle. This entire time that I've been with him, I never even told him I wanted to dance on Broadway." She picked her head up, furrowing her brow as she looked directly in front of her. "Like, why? Why wouldn't I tell him that? That's something even my friends know. Why would I keep that from him?"

Her father finished chewing his spaghetti and then wiped his mouth with the paper napkin. "Well," he said slowly. "What do you think it is?"

Emma shrugged, letting her head hang down. "I have no idea," she said through a groan before shaking her head. "I just, I didn't want to distract him from his game."

"Or," her father said slowly, "and, please, take this with a grain of salt because I'm an old man who hasn't experienced love in a very, very long time, but indulge me: maybe you're using his hockey as an excuse when, in reality, he has never given you any indication of that at all and you're seeing what you want to see."

 "Why would I want to see that?" she asked, turning her head to lock eyes with him.

"Because you're afraid to get close to anyone," he pointed out, his voice gentle and not judgmental. "Because the one person who's supposed to be there for you always left without a word, without a reason. And you're afraid of letting anyone close to you."

"And you're the exception?" she asked, raising a skeptical brow.

"I'm not going to take your attitude personally," he told her in a breezy tone. "I've been the one person who's been in your life since you were born. You had no choice but to let me be close to you."

Emma chewed her bottom lip, dropping her eyes to her lap as she tried to get comfortable in her father's oversized theatre seats.

"I think it doesn't help matters that you have an added responsibility you have to consider," he pointed out gently, replacing his eyes onto her still-flat stomach. She felt her cheeks pinch; it felt weird knowing that he knew about her pregnancy. Before him, only Harper knew about the pregnancy but that was never much of an issue because she wasn't around enough to make it a reality.

Her father, on the other hand, was constantly in her life. For the most part, she saw him every morning and every evening. They always tried to eat one meal together, even if that meant Emma picked up takeout and took it to him at work because he couldn't get away.

"Dad," she told him, looking him in the eye. "I'm nearly twenty-five years old. I have no idea what it means to be parent."

Her father sighed. "Being a parent is both the simplest thing and the most complicated thing you'll ever have to go through," he told her. "It's simple in that: as a parent, the only thing you have to remember is that it's not about you anymore. It's complicated in that you are raising a little person who will become a member of this society which means you are responsible for their future."

"No pressure," Emma cracked, but she didn't feel the mirth radiating from the joke the way she normally would. She shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Emma," he told her. "Being a parent wasn't something I expected to happen to me as young as I was. I had just gotten married, I was still in law school, and I was focused on earning enough so we could start a family. But plans don't always work out the way you expect them to. A lot of the time, plans are completely detailed in favor of what's supposed to happen. And you were supposed to happen. And this baby..." He let his voice trail off and his eyes dropped to her stomach. "This baby is supposed to happen. You need to decide if you want to do this by yourself or if you want to involve Underwood."

Emma rubbed her lips together. "What do you think I should do?" she asked tentatively.

Her father sat back in his chair, shifting his weight to get comfortable. "I can't make that decision for you," he told her, his voice serious. "I can't tell you what to do. The only thing I can do is speak from experience. As a father, I would want to know. I know that even though you aren't saying it, you must be worried about him leaving you because you're pregnant. But lying to him isn't going to make him want to stay with you, either. If he leaves, it says more about him than it does about you. You will surprise yourself, you will surprise everyone,, my darling. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. It may not be what you want to hear, but I want you to know that God would never put you in a situation He didn't think you couldn't handle." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. "Whatever you choose to do, I support you. But you wanted my opinion and I'm giving it to you."

Emma smile wryly at her father. "Yeah," she agreed, placing her head on his shoulder. "I know that. But that doesn't mean I'm still not scared of that he'll do what he what, I still hid this from him. And we fought about hiding stuff from each other before." She pressed her lips together. "I just don't like fighting with him."

Her father snorted. "Couples fight, Em," he told her. "They might not scream and yell, but everyone fights. Its a given in life. And that's the way it should be, or life would be boring. You just have to adapt to what works best for you and Kyle. And, now that there's a child involved, you have to remember that it's not about you guys anymore. For some people, this is easy. For others, not so much. Want to know why? Because one wants it to work, and one doesn't. One tries and one doesn't. You both have to want it and you both have to want to the same things. The whole opposites attract adage is bullshit. People also make mistakes. You have to decide if they're worth forgiving or not."

He cocked his head to the side. "What are you thinking right now?" he asked. "What's your plan?"

"I have my doctor's appointment next week," she murmured, dropping her eyes down at her hands. She twisted her fingers. Even though her father knew about the pregnancy, that didn't mean it still wasn't weird to be talking about it to him.

She wished...

No. She didn't wish for her mother. Emma didn't think she would ever be that desperate.

Still, she wished she had someone to talk to about what she was going through. Harper knew, sure. But Harper knew that Zachary Ryan was the one. If they got pregnant, Emma knew they would be elated. Harper wouldn't hesitate to tell Zach because she knew how he was going to react.

Emma sighed. She knew she needed to tell Kyle regardless of how he chose to respond. She just had no idea how to do it. And, more than that, she needed to figure out the appropriate time of when to do that. Because even if he was happy that they were going to have a baby together, that didn't fix their problems. 

And if they were going to make this work, if they were going to go deeper than ever, they needed to sort out their issues.

"Okay," her father said, clapping his hands together and nodding curtly. "That's a good first step. Is anyone going with you?"

She knew what he was asking: was she going to tell Kyle and was she going to do it soon?

"I have no plans beyond that," she admitted before teasing her bottom lip with her teeth. She blinked, trying to clear her mind from the fog, from the overwhelm. "I've researched the first appointment and my book has suggested questions to ask the OBGYN but beyond that, I have no idea what to expect..." She let her voice trail off and looked back at her father. "Do you remember what your appointment was like?"

Her father paused, cocking his head to the side and rubbing his chin with his hand. "Things have changed so much in twenty-four years, Em," he told her. "I do remember that your mother wasn't afraid. When I told her I might not make it, she didn't get upset. She could do anything by herself. She was fiercely independent; it's why I fell for her in the first place. But I switched some things around and I went." He paused so he could look her in the eye. "We didn't plan you, Emma. But your mother was determined to see the pregnancy through no matter what. She ate healthy. She exercised - and let me tell you, your mother hated exercise. She wasn't afraid of being pregnant."

Emma snorted, rolling her eyes. "Just of being a mom," she muttered.

"No," her father said. "You're right. She was terrified of having someone depend entirely on her for everything."

Emma furrowed her brow and shot her father a look that requested he elaborate.

"Think about it, Em," he told her. "Having a child means you created a life. You are now responsible for sheltering it, protecting it, feeding it, clothing it. They are completely dependent on you to survive. She couldn't handle that responsibility. She did what she felt was required - breastfed you the first year but around the time you were three, she couldn't take it anymore and left." His eyes widened. "It wasn't your fault, though, Em. I hope you know -"

Emma held her hand up. "Dad," she said. "I know. But it still sucks knowing my mom couldn't handle being a mom." Without warning, she felt her eyes start to prick with tears - something she thought was impossible, considering how many tears she had already cried the past few days. "Knowing that it was so easy to leave me."

"It wasn't, honey," he told her, enveloping her into a tight hug. "I'm sure it wasn't. You have to remember she bonded with you in those three years. I... I'm not going to defend her actions. But let me tell you from personal experience, you are not easy to leave. And you're better than buying into that bullshit."

Warmth flooded through her system and she pulled her father into a tight hug, grateful that he was here with her.