Parental Advisory Rating: L, N, AC

Break out those V-Chips, everyone!

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Created, Produced, Directed and Written:

Robie and I are in my office at work. On the speakerphone is Gerrard. After my frantic and extremely pissed off phone call yesterday, Robie flew up this morning. Later today, along with Kels, we’re meeting with Beth to discuss this ridiculous excuse for a lawsuit.

Robie taps the tip of his pencil’s eraser on my desk. It’s one of his nervous habits. He flips through the paperwork. "Gerrard, do you know Judge Archer Flynn?"

My brother mutters a very bad Cajun curse. If Mama heard him, despite his age, he’d be grounded. That is not a good sign. "I’m afraid I do. Damn. If you can get the case reassigned, do it."

"Incompetent?" Robie asks.

"Worse. Bigoted. I met him at the ABA National Judges Conference last year. He was a total asshole. He hates homosexuals. If there’s anything that requires his discretion, it’s going to break against you."

Robie and I repeat his curse. "I’ll see what I can do about it."

Gerrard, having delivered the bad news, now tries to reassure me. "Don’t worry, Harper. The law is on your side."

"Exactly," Robie confirms. "This is a clear win for you, Harper Lee. Your kids aren’t going anywhere."

"No where," Gerrard agrees.

"Thanks, Gerrard. Appreciate your input. At least, we know what to expect." I am less assured than they are. Bigotry is a hard enemy to fight. Even with the law on your side.

We do the good-bye thing and hang up with Gerrard. Robie lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Come on, let’s go grab your wife for lunch. I bet she could use some cheering up."

* * *

The three of us duck out of the studio for a quick lunch. One of the crew’s favorite places is the Delta Grill, not too far away. I’ve been meaning to try it since it supposedly serves Cajun food. I am skeptical that anyone outside of New Orleans can do it justice, but I am willing to give it a try. Once.

The restaurant is small, with a third devoted to a well-stocked bar. A waitress takes us to a round table, drops the menus down and says she’ll be back in a minute. I hold out Kels’ chair and then take my own seat, across from Robie.

"How is it that you look more and more beautiful, Kels? Did you find the secret to eternal life and forget to tell the rest of us?" Robie smiles roguishly.

"Robie, has anyone every told you that you’re so full of crap you should be a fertilizer salesman? If not, they should. But I love you anyway." My girl sighs deeply. "So do I have to go kill her with my bare hands or …?"

Robie reaches over and pats Kels’ hand. "Nah. Not yet. I think you’ll feel a lot better after our meeting with Beth later."

"Probably." Kels nods. "Thank God, Beth hates that bitch almost as much as I do."

I finish perusing the menu and close it. "Oh, I think she has some stiff competition now. I’m claiming the number two spot."

Kels starts laughing. A wonderful sound to my ears. "She may fight you for it. She’s had it longer. She may not be willing to give it up. But you can co-own the first place spot with me, since you had the poor taste to marry me and put yourself in the line of fire."

I clutch my hand over my heart, feigning a heart attack. "Poor taste? Oh, chér, never, never. You are the absolutely best damn thing that ever happened to me. You know it. And I know it."

"I certainly know it," Robie pipes up. "The family now celebrates Kelsey Kingsley day."

Her laughter increases. "You should all be fertilizer salespeople."

"He’s a lawyer. Same thing," I intone.

Robie slaps my arm. "Mais, non!" Turn back to Kels, he says, "Christian sends you his love. And he said for me to say hi to Tante Harper too." Robie laughs, enjoying my displacement as number one in his son’s life. The only reason I don’t mind is because it’s Kels. "Do you remember that art and imagination kit that bad Uncle Lucien bought for him this Christmas?" We both nod. "Well, in it, it has – or should I say had – a ton of little green press on stars. The other morning, Ren went to go get Kelly in her crib. She immediately came and got me. Seems our eldest son was busy during the night. Kelly was covered, head to foot, in the damn things. So was Clark. We finally found Christian dead asleep in the living room, naked but for his undershorts, with stars all over himself, as well. I was just glad he managed to not get us during the night."

"Tabloid, remind me to send a list of gifts to Luc that he can’t buy for Collin and Brennan. That will be on there. Brian might like it, but Kam would be mortified to go to the park like that."

"My poor dog." The thought is terrifying in and of itself.

"And you know, your daughter would be capable of something like that." For some odd reason puts special emphasis on the word ‘your’.

I start to protest, but stop. Damn. It’s true. She would. Perhaps we better buy a lock for our bedroom door.

* * *

Beth comes out and retrieves us from the waiting area at her law firm. Anderson Kill’s offices are impressive. Leather couches in the reception area, expensive art on the walls, receptionist sitting behind a mahogany desk and a view of midtown that is impressive. We follow her back to her office. All the associates and interns look frazzled. I am so glad I didn’t do the law thing like my brothers.

Beth’s office is large. A corner office, as I had expected, with a conference table at one end, her desk at the other. The office faces south and east, with good views of both the Chrysler and Empire State buildings. She asks her secretary to bring in coffee, and tea for Kelsey, and we all take a seat around the table.

"Beth, this is my brother, Robie Kingsley. He has his own law firm in New Orleans," I say by way of introduction.

"A pleasure. I understand the law runs in your family."

Robie nods. "Three lawyers, one judge. Harper is the odd man out on this occupation."

I cross myself. "Thank God."

"What do you practice?" Beth inquires, as all attorneys do upon meeting one another.

"We’re a general litigation firm. Our clients are mostly from the financial services, securities and insurance areas. Our father heads up a rather large investment bank. We are their outside counsel."

"Nice to have contacts," Beth murmurs. "I’m glad to meet you and glad to have you on the case. I am sure you’ve reviewed the case law and come to the same conclusion I did."

Robie nods. "She doesn’t have a leg to stand on."

"What about lifestyle choices? Personal histories?" Kels takes a deep breath. I recognize it from Lamaze classes. It’s a calming breath. "It’s no secret that Beth and I had a relationship for awhile, that my mother was very well aware of. I would expect her to use that as her primary argument. That I’m unfit because I’m a lesbian."

Beth shakes her head. "Don’t worry about that, Kels. This isn’t a lawsuit questioning your fitness as parents. It’s not a custody battle. It’s a demand for visitation rights. Even Bennett, the dipshit, could read case law and realize there was no way in hell your mother could take your children from you based on your sexual orientation."

"Beth, you don’t understand. If she gets them, my big fear is I won’t get them back. She’s capable of taking them anywhere, is she not?"

We all sit silently. The answer is obvious. Her mother is a crazy fuck. If she gets the kids for a visit, I, too, worry it might become more permanent.

"It won’t come to that," Beth says, her voice firm and assured. "We have case law on our side. Grandparents only are awarded visitation when they have a pre-existing relationship with the child that the parent is seeking to terminate, for whatever reason. In those cases, the grandparent is awarded visitation for the good of the child, not for her own good. That good is defined as the mental and emotional anguish the child would go through if the grandparent were abruptly and permanently removed from his life. In our case, Brennan and Collin have no relationship with your mother whatsoever. We’re going to keep it that way."

"Damn right," Robie agrees. "There’s no way in hell she’s going to win, Kels."

"Tabloid, are you prepared for the fact that she may try to out us? You know, she’ll go straight to the press with that."

That’s true. "Chér, that affects you more than it does me. Would you rather we try to settle with her outside of court to avoid that?"

"No. I just want this over, but I don’t want her near the babies. We’re going to have to go to court to get a judgment like that. Out of court would mean a promise. I don’t intend to compromise."

"Amen."

Beth nods. "I got it. No compromise. Kels, did you notice when I said Bennett was your mother’s attorney?"

"Wonderful. Just what I needed. Well, it’s certainly going to be old home week, isn’t it? If we fly in CJ and Susan, you could all go out to dinner." My wife, clearly agitated, pushes herself up from the table and begins pacing.

Robie leans over to me. "I don’t get it. Who’s Bennett?"

"Her college boyfriend. Katherine set them up and was displeased when Kels showed better judgment and started dating Beth." I watch Kels. All I want to do is go over to her and hold her in my arms. It wouldn’t be advisable right now. Like a porcupine, her quills are up and ready to fly.

"The good news, Kels, is that he’s a pathetic attorney. I am surprised he realizes a tort isn’t a dessert food."

Robie begins laughing. I guess it was an inside lawyer joke.

"Well, then, I suggest you find out who’s doing the real legal work here, Beth, because you know my mother doesn’t hire idiots. Bennett must just be there for the torture aspect."

"That’s my guess. And the legal brains would be Al Chavez. He’s the lead partner at the firm employing Bennett. I know him. He’s a prick, but he’s not slime."

"There’s a recommendation," I mutter.

Robie tries to rein in the conversation. "I think the aspect to focus on right now is that the law is on our side. There’s no reason whatsoever for a court to grant visitation rights to Collin and Brennan. You two need to not worry about it, and let Beth and me be the legal sharks we are paid to be."

That sounds like a good idea to me. I push myself up from the table. "Okay. Kels, darlin’, why don’t we go home and play with our babies? I bet they’ve missed us both today." I say a little prayer, hoping that my girl doesn’t go off on me.

"Home," she repeats, her voice softening. "Home is good."

I think it’s safe to touch her now. I reach out and take her hand in mine. "Home is very good."

* * *

Collin is slumped against my shoulder, sound asleep. He has eaten and is in his nightclothes, and cuddled as close to me as he can get. He’s going to be a cuddler like his Mama. He’s also got a little sleeping noise he makes that sounds like the snoring noises Harper makes. I place my lips against his little forehead and close my eyes.

I won’t let her do to them what she did to me. I won’t let her turn them against Harper or me. They’re our babies. We wanted them. We planned them. We love them with everything that we are and there isn’t anything we wouldn’t give them.

I swear, I’ll retire and take them as far from here as I can, before I let her near them.

I hear a happy gurgle and look down. Brennan and Harper are on the floor together. Both are laying on their stomachs staring at each other. Harper is talking to our little girl and teasing her with a soft, stuffed toy. Brennan is lifting her head briefly now. It looks like she’s doing mini pushups and she is giving a smile that is one hundred percent, totally reserved for Harper.

I’ve noticed that both babies now know the difference between Harper and I. When they’re with me, they’re happy and quiet knowing that their main food source is close. When they’re with Harper, they gurgle and smile and kick in response to her voice. She is the playing mommy.

I watch as Brennan tries so hard to roll over. She really wants to do it. It won’t be much longer. Everyday they’re doing something new and wonderful. It is a joy to watch them become aware and active.

As Harper pulls the toy away, Brennan cuts loose with a little yell that voices her displeasure. Collin jerks in response, but continues sleeping.

"Tabloid?"

"Hmm?" She gives Brennan the toy and rolls onto her back to see me.

"How would you feel about my leaving Exposure?"

She sits up, regarding me very seriously. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

I sigh and stroke Collin’s back. "I’m not sure what I want right now. I’m trying to figure it out. I’m asking, because you know I value your opinion as a producer and a coworker. Not to mention that it will affect us on a personal level. I checked into it. I can buy out my contract with very little difficulty. Financially, it’s not that much of a loss, and I can always pick up freelance work."

She glances over to Brennan who is grasping her toy and pulling it to her mouth to chew on it. "Professionally, I’d hate to see it happen. Personally, I’d be jealous as hell because you’d be free to stay home and enjoy them on a full time basis if you wanted." She crawls over to me and places herself between my legs so we are face to face. "I want you to do whatever you want that makes you happy. You tell me and know that I’ll be there to support you no matter what."

Supporting Collin’s head, I lean forward and give Harper a well deserved kiss. "I’m keeping you, Stud."

Our boy begins waking and is apparently unhappy with the closeness his Mama and I are sharing at the moment. He squawks and presses his tiny hand against Harper’s face, pushing her away.

"I think he’s jealous," I tease as he squirms in my arms.

"Good boy. He’s learned fast not to let anyone get near his Mommy. We just need to convince him it’s okay for me to get near her." She holds her hands out. "Come’re, little man."

I hand our son over to her and she cuddles him to her breast. "I can get as close as I want," she tells him, even as his hand moves to her lips and she kisses it. "Yes, I can." She pushes up from her knees and takes him over to place him on the floor next to his sister. "You two lay here and play nice."

Once they’re settled, she returns to me and I settle into her arms. "It’s gonna be okay, Kels. I swear it is."

"I know." I close my eyes and relax into the one place in the world where I feel truly safe.

* * *

I jerk awake in the middle of the night. My heart pounding in my ears, I nevertheless strain to hear what must have awakened me.

The baby monitor is silent. Collin and Brennan are enjoying their slumber. I suppose Collin is dreaming of small nipples. Brennan is dreaming of how she can make my life more difficult when she gets older.

Kam is asleep atop his bed. Dreaming doggie dreams, no doubt. Even in the dark, I can see his tail wagging happily. He must have caught that little Persian feline he chases in his dreams every night.

I roll out of bed.

Chocolate milk. That’s what I want.

I like the dead of night. Quiet. Peaceful. Even New York City seems to slow down for a few heartbeats. I open a window and listen to the silence. No crickets in the City, but no one’s honking his horn right now. Damn, it’s cold. I shut the window.

I pour a glass of chocolate milk and take a long sip. Oh, yeah. Goes down smooth. As a kid, I always wondered why brown cows didn’t give chocolate milk. It still bothers me a little bit.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, I find the New York Times left unattended. Flipping to the crossword, I am thrilled to find it in pristine condition. Mine, all mine! I quickly fill in about a third of it. Once you know a few of the favorite words, it’s pretty easy to get a good start.

I am almost finished when I hear Kam’s nails clacking on the kitchen floor. He comes over and lays his muzzle on my thigh. Chocolate eyes look up at me beseechingly. I shake my head. "There’s no damn way I’m taking you out into that cold weather. You just cross your little legs and hold it, boy. Or go out on the damn balcony. Why do you think we got one, huh?" I scratch his head affectionately. His tongue lolls out and he licks my leg. "That was pleasant, bud."

"What are you doing up?" Kels asks.

I jump in my chair, unintentionally bumping Kam in his chops. He whimpers a protest. I stare at my wife, calming down. "Hi. Just woke up and had a craving for chocolate milk?"

Kels comes further into the kitchen. "Are you pregnant?"

I laugh at the absurdity of the question. "I don’t think so, chér, unless you have skills we are not aware of." I open up my arms and she drops herself on my lap. I wrap my arms around her and hold her close, nuzzling the soft skin of her arm. "Why are you up?"

"Missed my favorite pillow." I start to say something sweet, but she cuts me off. "I found it on the floor and noticed you were gone." She tweaks my nose. "Teasing."

"Good thing."

"So are we going to stay up all night? Or are we going to get some sleep before our dear children insist on us being up?"

I smile. Our dear children. So very true. No damn way is Mother Stanton getting her hands on them. As the NRA says, kinda, she’ll pry them out of my cold, dead hands.

I just hope it won’t come to that.

"You? Me? Bed? Have I ever turned that down?" I growl.

"Hold your horses there, Stud. We’re sleeping."

"I always sleep after," I tease.

She presses her fingers to my lips and looks at me with twinkling eyes. "After you get in bed. I know."

She’s awful for my reputation, but, I sure love her.

* * *

"I want the first part here," I scratch my pencil against the paper, circling the text that isn’t reading smoothly, "and this here reworked." I look up at Teri, a copywriter, the newest member of our production team. "It’s a good start, but it doesn’t flow well. Try to make it more like this section, which is terrific." She blushes with the praise. Ah, the innocence of youth.

"I’ll get right on it, Ms. Stanton."

"It’s Kelsey. I’d like to see the next intro at the same time as this edited one, okay?"

"Of course." She gathers up the files and starts to head out of my office. She stops at my bookcase, taking a long look at the picture of me and Harper. "That’s a nice picture, Ms. … Kelsey."

"Thanks, Teri. Harper’s brother, Robie, took it last Thanksgiving."

"You two look really happy together. Normally, at my family’s Thanksgiving, we’re all fighting long before the turkey is served. All our pictures at the holiday feature knives held in threatening positions." She shakes her head at the memory. "All right, back to work."

She leaves and I let my gaze linger on the photo for a long moment. It is a good picture. And we do look happy. And we didn’t even realize it.

I am startled from my memories by the ringing of the phone. "Kelsey Stanton," I answer automatically.

"Hey, it’s Beth."

Her voice has none of its normal buoyancy. I feel my heart fall to my feet. I force myself to take a deep breath. "What’s up?"

"As you know, the case was assigned to Judge Flynn."

"The conservative bigot?"

"That’d be the one. I received word from the court today that he has ordered a state social worker to do a home study."

"Home study?" I echo.

"I’ve already filed a formal protest. It makes no sense. Home studies are done prior to awarding an adoption petition, except in cases like yours and Harper’s. In cases where the birth mother consents and will continue to live with the child, then no home study is required. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of one used in a visitation petition." Beth sounds as frustrated as I feel angry.

"You said this was bogus. You said you would make this go away." I bite off each word angrily, imagining it is my mother’s flesh I am tearing.

"I am going to, honey. This is completely irregular. I’m going to get it blocked, but I didn’t want you surprised. I imagine that Bennett will be pushing the court to get it scheduled immediately. He knows the order won’t stand up to scrutiny. Prick."

I can feel my face becoming hot with rage. I can only imagine what it looks like right now. I clench the pencil so hard in my hand that it snaps. "I don’t want a stranger coming into our house and evaluating our fitness to be parents, Beth! I won’t let her in the fucking door!" She’ll be lucky I don’t meet her with the biggest gun she’s ever seen in her life. In New York, that’s saying a lot.

Beth’s voice is calm. Of course, these aren’t her kids we’re talking about. I wonder if that is making her less than enthusiastic about this case. "It won’t come to that, Kels."

"See to it."

I hang up.

This day sucks.

* * *

I am driving back from New Jersey, crossing the GWB, when my car phone rings. Hitting the speakerphone button, I bark, "Kingsley."

"Hi."

It’s my wife. My tone completely changes, becoming warm and, I believe, charming as all hell. "Hi, chér. You at home? Naked? On our bed? Waiting for me?"

"Uh, no, to all four of those questions." She’s a little taken aback by my flirting. I may already have her, but I want to keep her.

"Ahh, at work. Are you naked? On the couch? Waiting for me?"

She laughs. I hope at my one-track mind and not at my suggestion. "Not that either, Tabloid."

"Damn. Oops, I owe two dollars to the jar."

"And you’d been doing so well."

We know that’s a little bit of an exaggeration. But, with the twins around, I have been better with my language. Being a parent sure changes everything. "The new governor of New Jersey is looking forward to talking to you, darlin’. I tell you, lately you’re getting to talk more politics than Wolf Blitzer. Maybe we’ll start calling you Foxy Stanton, in order to compete."

I can see my girl shaking her head. "I think not, Tabloid."

"So what’s up?" I lean on my horn at the idiot who just decided to turn onto the West Side Highway from the far left lane. Jackass.

"I got bad news from Beth. She said the judge ordered a home visit."

"Shit. We have to have your mother in our home?" I’ll have to hire an exorcist afterward.

"No, I mean a state home visit. One where a social worker comes and decides if you’re fit to be a parent."

Huh? "I already thought we were parents, chér. You, obviously, so, and me by way of adoption. We have the papers."

"I know. Beth said it’s highly irregular in a visitation suit, but the judge is pursuing a political agenda."

"I ain’t no cause," I mutter angrily. "You aren’t one. Our children certainly aren’t. Let me call Robie. His flight should have landed back in New Orleans by now." I am proud of myself for holding it together. I really want to find the bitch, rip her head off and stick it down the bloody stump. But I’m driving. I’m busy.

"Are you going to ask him to come back up here?"

"I don’t think that’s needed. I think we need to turn up the heat on old Judge Flynn." Matt! "Why don’t you call your father, sweetheart? I bet he has more than a little influence in the right circles."

"I was thinking the same thing. I wanted to let you be the first to know, though."

I wish I was there to hug my girl. "Buck up, Little Roo. We’re going to get this taken care of."

* * *

"Hey there, little man. You made a big ol’ mess, didn’t you?" I coo at Collin, quickly changing his diapers. The airtight diaper pail is one of the best purchases we ever made. Who knew such a smell could come from such small bodies? Now clean, Collin is smiling up at me. "That’s better, huh?" I lean down and press kisses to his chubby cheeks.

From her crib, Brennan lets loose with a sound that says I have another pair of diapers to change. It never ends with these two. I carry Collin to his crib, lay him down and hand him a stuffed dragon to play with. "Pretend to save a maiden for a moment, okay?"

I go over to my daughter and am met by wet, green eyes. She hasn’t started crying yet, but she’s right on the verge. "No, no, no, sweetheart. You’re happy, we’re happy, everything’s fine." She hiccups. I scoop her out of the crib, take her to the changing table and hold my breath for the next thirty seconds.

Just as I pull the diaper away from her butt, she kicks and smashes her heel into the mess. I shake my head. "Ah, chér, nasty." I somehow manage to get the diaper in the pail, a towelette on her foot and a new diaper under her behind with only two hands. Soon she is as clean and happy as her brother.

All three of us stretch out on the floor and push a big fabric ball to one another. I’m helping the twins out, naturally, but they do flail about and attempt to try. We all gurgle and laugh.

I love them.

I can’t imagine not being there for every single moment of their lives. I can’t imagine being ordered to give the psycho bitch from hell full access to these precious lives. I don’t want her spending one moment with them because I don’t believe she wants their happiness.

She wants her own.

I stretch across to push the ball away from Brennan and she snags my hair, bringing it to her mouth. "Ow, ow, ow," I chant, trying to ease out of her death grip. It takes a few minutes, but I do earn my freedom. I now have a nice, wet glob of hair.

I pick my girl up and hug her tightly as I can. "Mama loves you, Brennan. Heart. Soul. Big toe. There is nothing in this world that will ever separate us."

Collin protests to being left out. "Come here, little man." Somehow I manage to juggle two squirming babies in my arms and press kisses to heads. Poor Brennan. She’s got to grow some hair soon.

"We’re family. Nothing will ever change that. I swear."

And, God help me, I mean that, Mother Stanton. Don’t make me prove it.

* * *

I come home to a quiet home. I am instantly suspicious. Nothing is quiet in this home anymore. I sniff. Thai. My stomach growls. Oh, Harper, I love you more and more. I hang my coat up on the rack and enjoy the warmth of our apartment. I wonder where my children are. And how many drugs Harper gave them to keep quiet.

In the kitchen, I find Brian taking two bottles out of the fridge. "Hey, Kels, welcome home."

"Hi, Brian. How are the kids?"

"Good. Stud has completely worn them out. They’re upstairs, barely awake, but a little hungry. I’m going to give them a bottle and put them down." He points to the door to the dining room. "She’s waiting for you in there."

"Okay. Thanks. I’ll be up to kiss them goodnight in a little while."

He laughs and shakes his head. "I don’t think so. Not if Stud has her way."

Oh, boy, Harper’s in a mood. Unfortunately, I’m not. Hope she handles rejection well. I suck in a breath and step into the other room. There I find Thai food ready to be dished up, a bottle of wine opened and Harper. She’s dressed. That’s a good sign.

"Hi, honey, I’m home," I tease.

"How was work?" she replies, joining in.

"It was hard. I kept thinking of this whole mess and how I want to eat my mother’s heart … provided she has one."

"Mais, non, chér! Why have that dry, shriveled thing when I got us Thai?" She stands up and pulls out a chair next to her. "Come, sit down, and have some dinner."

My feet take me there immediately. They know a good offer when they hear it. Before I can lift the fork to my mouth, Harper leans over and gives me a welcome home kiss. I close my eyes and enjoy the moment. I needed this today. Needed her.

When she breaks away, she gives a very self-satisfied smile. "Glad to see you. Eat up!"

We do. I hate to admit it, but this is the best meal I’ve had in quite awhile. Perhaps it’s just being in the safety of my home. Knowing my children are upstairs, safe and sound, away from my mother. Sitting here with my wife. Well fed. Warm. Life is good.

"We need to talk," Harper says softly, as she rests her fork on the edge of her plate.

No, no, no. No talking. "About what?"

"What ifs."

I take a deep breath. "What if what?"

"What if your mother isn’t as stupid as we think she is?"

Okay, I wasn’t expecting that what if. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, your mother has to know that there is no hope in hell of being awarded visitation rights. She did this for one, or more, of a few reasons."

I nod. "Such as?"

"There’s the obvious fuck you factor. She’s doing this to torture us. Make our happy, wonderful life messed up." Harper takes my hand in hers and squeezes it gently. "I won’t let that happen, by the way."

"Neither will I," I whisper.

"Good. Another is that she is delusional. She thinks she can win, not because she’s rational, but because she’s completely irrational. The idea that an attorney would take advantage of her in that state is bad, to say the least."

I shake my head. "She’s not insane, Tabloid. She’s a bitch."

"I agree with you there. So why does a bitch file a lawsuit she knows she cannot win? It’s obviously to blackmail us. Blackmail you. She knows that the studio wouldn’t like our relationship made public. She’s trying to out you, sweetheart. We’re lucky the press hasn’t caught wind of this action already."

I cross my arms and look bored. "Fine. Let her. If she tries to use it to get to my children, I’ll call the press conference myself. I’ll wear a rainbow shirt on my next broadcast. I’ll tell every dirty secret I know in the industry. Hell, I know so much, being a lesbian will look positively Norman Rockwell-esque when I’m done."

"And what about your career, chér? You’ve worked too long and too hard to piss it all away."

I lean away from my wife, appalled at her question. "But it’s okay to piss away my children?"

"Not at all. You know me, Kels. You know how I feel about those two little humans upstairs. I’d die for them in a heartbeat."

I soften, knowing this to be true. "My priorities are so different, Harper. I couldn’t even have guessed it before they were born. I always knew I would be the best news reporter ever. I wanted to be remembered with Cronkite, Chancellor, Brinkley. I did everything to get there. Worked hard. Worked late. Worked constantly. Sacrificed a lot along the way. Mostly myself. I don’t want that anymore. I’d given away so much of myself, I almost had none left."

"Oh, darlin’."

Harper’s compassion nearly undoes me, but I take a breath and continue. "But you came along. Gave me back a few pieces. Your family did the same. And then these two came into our life together and for the first time I feel complete. With you," I reach out and grab her hands tightly in mine, "with them, I am whole. I’m never going to sell off another piece of myself. Ever."

"I’ll never let you. I love all of you. And I am very, very greedy when it comes to you. Your mother, on the other hand, I think I’m going to feed pieces of her to the fishes. I hope you don’t mind."

"Only if I don’t get to help, Tabloid."

<fade out>

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