Or will they just be Hannah’s baby’s grandparents? I didn’t have an answer. The baby shower invitation came when I was 8 and 1/2 months pregnant. Hannah was 6 months along, and Patricia had planned an elaborate garden party at their estate. The invitation was addressed only to me, no plus-one for Marcus. When I called to ask if he could attend, my mother sighed dramatically.

Lauren, this is Hannah’s day. We want to keep it intimate. Just family.

Marcus is family. I said, “You know what I mean.

I should have declined right then.” Marcus certainly thought I should, but some small, pathetic part of me hoped that seeing me this pregnant, this vulnerable, might trigger some maternal instinct in Patricia. Maybe she’d realize she was about to have two grandchildren. maybe things would finally balance out. I was so stupidly hopeful.

The baby shower was scheduled for a Saturday in June. I was 37 weeks pregnant, and my doctor had cleared me for the outing with strict instructions to stay hydrated and sit frequently. My due date was 3 weeks away, and I felt like I was carrying a bowling ball between my hips. Walking was uncomfortable. Standing for more than 10 minutes made my back scream.

Marcus drove me to my parents estate in Lake Oiggo. Their property sprawled across three acres with manicured gardens and a view of the lake.

“Growing up there, I’d always felt like I was living in a hotel. Beautiful, but impersonal.”

“Call me if you need anything,” Marcus said, kissing my forehead.

“I mean it,” Lauren.