Part One
Incensed, Gwen hurled the remote at the television. How dare he? She expected nothing less from Theresa; she was Theresa. But Ethan…
"Mrs. Winthrop," the nurse rushed into the private room, her tone scolding. "You must calm yourself down. Your baby…"
The reminder had the desired effect. Forcing herself to breath evenly and deeply, Gwen thought only of her daughter's health, pushing all thoughts of Ethan and Theresa's disgusting public display to the back of her mind.
"That's it," the nurse soothed, relieved to see her patient's heart rate and blood pressure read-outs return to normal. "Deep breaths. Relax," she coached. Concerned when she noticed the tears collecting in the younger woman's troubled brown eyes, she asked as kindly as she could, "Can I get you anything? Anyone? Perhaps your husband…"
Wiping at the lone tear that traveled down one cheek, Gwen came to a decision. "I need to talk to my doctor."
Against her physician's strongly voiced advice, Gwen checked herself out of the hospital, threatening legal action against him and the hospital if he or any other member of his staff so much as breathed a hint of her destination to Ethan.
She needed the distance. She needed the peace she hadn't enjoyed since Theresa's disruptive entry into her life.
The Tahoe lakehouse wasn't exactly the answer to her fervent prayers, but it was close. Its beautiful scenery lulled her into a state of calm as the days crawled by and, eventually, a grudging acceptance.
Ethan would never love her wholly. Some part of his heart would always belong to Theresa.
If she deserved better, her daughter deserved the world.
The day Gwen had her lawyers deliver the signed divorce papers to Ethan was a turning point in her life, a new beginning.
It was Sarah Hotchkiss's birthday.
Sarah was the light in her mother's life, the only love worth the heartache.
When Sarah was but three months old, Gwen traded in the lakehouse for a New York penthouse. She was soaring in the business world again and regaining a little bit of herself with every day she spent mothering her blue-eyed cherub.
Jonathan Hotchkiss joined his daughter and granddaughter in the Big Apple, his own executive days retired, his days better spent spoiling little Sarah.
They lived a good life, the curiously close trio. They wanted for nothing because they had everything they needed in each other.
Love knocked on Gwen's door in the following years, but only Companionship was allowed entry.
She had a daughter to raise, an understandably overprotective father.
Her heart was full. That's what she told herself. Armored.
Sheridan and Luis's Christmas cards, pictures of a happy family with a mother, father, and through the years, an additional child or two, stung a little.
Sarah's tears on Father's Day that first year of playschool meant a night's worth of tears locked away in the bathroom with the cooling water of the shower to drown them out.
The feelings passed.
She focused on the joy that was her daughter.
Life went on.