"I wish I could say something that would make this easier," Sheridan said. "My father has always been hard on Julian, but he still shouldn't have abandoned Eve—or you for that matter."
"Yet she still seems to be on speaking terms with him," Mike observed, squeezing Dalla's hand.
"That's because my brother has changed," Sheridan said. "I can't even really explain it—it's like my father finally pushed him too far . . . like someone finally flipped a switch in him."
"Who is your father?" Mike asked. "And why does he feel like he has the right to play with people's lives?"
Sheridan took a deep breath in. "Obviously, you know that my married name is Lopez-Fitzgerald, but, before I married Luis, it was Crane."
Mike raised his eyebrows. "Crane? As in the Cranes? As in the richest, most powerful family on the East Coast?"
"That's the one." Sheridan hung her head. "It's not something I really go around advertising."
"Alistair Crane . . . isn't that the guy who was in the news for attempting to murder his own daughter?" Dalla's eyes widened. "Please tell me that wasn't you, Sheridan."
"Unfortunately, it was." Sheridan's eyes fell to the table. "Apparently, that was my father's last-ditch attempt to stop me from marrying Luis."
Mike's jaw dropped.
Luis squeezed Sheridan tightly and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Julian and Eve were the ones who stopped Alistair that night—I'll never be able to thank them enough for that."
"And it's . . . it's okay now," Sheridan stammered, looking up at Mike and Dalla. "My father is currently in a coma and under heavy police guard."
Mike rubbed his hand over his chin and leaned back in his chair. "Your father trying to kill you . . . that that man might be my grandfather . . . this is all kinds of unbelievable, Sheridan."
"I know it is, Mike, but my father is—or was—a very powerful man." Sheridan curled her hand back around her belly. "If he wanted to make a baby disappear back then, he certainly had the resources to do it."
"You must be terrified for your own baby," Dalla observed.
"We are," Luis said, squeezing Sheridan's shoulder. "Believe me—Sheridan and I are going to keep our daughter with us around the clock right after she's born—we're not taking any chances."
Sheridan swallowed hard and tightened her fingers around her side. "I know this is a lot to take in, but Eve and Julian—they really want to get to know you, Mike. They want to be a part of your life."
"I don't know, Sheridan." Mike rose to his feet. "This is a lot to take in. I need some time to process it."
"Why are you so distracted today?" Ethan asked Julian.
Julian looked up from his computer. "I . . . I really can't talk about it."
"Okay," Ethan frowned, going back to what he was typing.
"It's not that I don't want to tell you—it's just that I shouldn't right now." Julian glanced down at his desk and then back up at Ethan. "May . . . may I ask you a question—do you think I could be a good father if I were given the chance?"
"Why?" Ethan laughed, his eyes flying up. "Are you expecting another child anytime soon?"
"Not in the way you're implying." Julian smiled briefly, a spark lighting and fading in his eyes. "It's just that Fancy, Pretty, and Fox seem to want nothing to do with me. I know where I went wrong with them in a multitude of ways, but I have no idea how to go about repairing those relationships."
"Well, maybe you could start by talking to them about this," Ethan suggested. "Tell them what you're telling me."
"I wish it were that simple," Julian frowned. "I feel like all of my children are strangers to me, except for you—the only one who's not actually mine."
"Well, what would you do if your son with Eve suddenly popped back into your life?" Ethan asked. "How would you try to connect with him?"
Julian rubbed his chin. "I don't know, but that's a very good question—I wish I knew how to answer it."
Luis followed Mike and Dalla out to their car. "Mike, I know this must be a lot for you to take in," Luis said, glancing back at the diner. "Believe me, just because of her last name, I resisted my feelings for Sheridan for months before I gave in to them."
Dalla squeezed Mike's arm. "But Sheridan seems like a really nice person, Luis."
"She is," Luis said. "And so is her mother, Katherine—not every member of the Crane family acts as despicably as Alistair does."
"That may be true," Mike said, "but I'm not sure how I feel about all of this."
"I get that," Luis said. "Believe me—I do. I just would hate to see you miss out on knowing Eve if you are related to her—you couldn't ask for a better mother."
"From what I can remember about meeting her, she did seem pretty decent," Mike conceded. "But then again, so did Sheridan's brother—and he abandoned Dr. Russell when they were younger."
"I can't explain it, but like Sheridan said earlier, Julian's changed," Luis explained. "And I've known Eve since I was a child—she's one of the best people I know."
"I hear what you're saying," Mike said, "but I'm still not sure that I want to be involved in any of this."
"I understand," Luis said.
"I'm sure Dr. Russell is a very nice person." Mike nudged the ground with his foot. "It's just that this whole thing feels really overwhelming to me right now—I need some time to think about it."
"Eve?"
TC stood up from the couch as Whitney and Eve entered the apartment, his eyebrows shooting straight up.
"T . . . TC . . ." Eve gripped her purse strap tighter. "Whitney and I have something we want to talk to you about."
TC folded his arms in front of his chest. "What do you want to speak to me about, Eve?"
"I'm . . . I'm the one who wants to talk to you, Daddy," Whitney said. "Mom just came along so we could talk about this as a family."
"As a family?" TC scoffed. "I didn't know we could still call ourselves that."
"Daddy, please—just listen to me," Whitney pleaded. "I'm so sorry that I hurt you the other day."
"I know you are." TC's face softened. "And it's okay—you only have to stay focused on tennis for a few more years. Once you win a Wimbledon event, you'll have time to do everything else."
"But what if I never win at Wimbledon?" Whitney asked. "Or what if I do, and then tennis takes over more of my life?"
Whitney glanced back at her mother; Eve nodded at her.
Whitney took a deep breath in and turned back to her father. "I want to do what other kids are doing right now—go to college, explore some options, figure out what I want to do with my life . . ."
TC's eyes darted to Eve's. "And I'm guessing that you support this?"
"I do." Eve gathered up all the strength she had inside of her. "Whitney deserves to follow her own dreams."
TC studied Eve for a second and then turned his gaze back to Whitney. "What about the dreams we've shared, Whitney? All the years we've spent working toward them?"
"Those . . . those were your dreams, Daddy," Whitney said.
Frowning, TC dug his hands into his pockets. "I thought they were your dreams, too."
"So did I." Whitney wiped some tears from her eyes. "At least I thought that they were."
TC hugged his arms to his chest. "Well, then, what happened, Whitney?"
"I . . . I don't know," Whitney stammered. "I guess I was just so focused on my game for such a long time that I never stopped to think about whether I was actually enjoying it. I . . . I just want a chance to try something else—to figure out what I want to do."
"And how do you plan to figure this out?" TC asked.
"I thought maybe I could just take a break from tennis for a little bit." Whitney twisted her fingers together. "I've heard of some colleges with really great first-year exploratory programs. . . . Maybe we could visit some of them together."
"I've heard of some of those programs," TC admitted. "The guidance counselors at Harmony High have said good things about them."
"What if we just eased up on tennis for a little while?" Whitney suggested. "Maybe we could find time to practice and visit some of these schools."
TC tightened his arms around his chest.
Eve cleared her throat. "That seems like a reasonable approach to me."
TC looked at her. "Maybe that's because you're not the one who's devoted almost two decades to getting Whitney to the top of her game."
"Maybe so," Eve said. "But Whitney is my daughter, too—and, as far as I'm concerned, her happiness comes first."
TC raised one brow. "And you think I don't care about Whitney's happiness?"
"I know you do," Eve said. "I just think that your own dreams are clouding your vision of what happiness might mean for her."
TC turned to Whitney. "Is that what you think?"
"I . . . I don't know," Whitney murmured. "I just know that I'd like to try something else for a little bit."
Running one hand down his face, TC sighed. "All right then—let's talk about this. Let's see how we can make it work."
