But the longer silence reigned at the table, the worse my anxiety got until Nate's father finally broke that silence with exactly what I assumed would happen—a verbal rebuke.
"What are your intentions regarding the Hearthkeeper role?" he asked suddenly, and I felt the temperature in the room go from too hot to ice-cold in one single breath.
I swallowed the lump of potatoes on my tongue and dabbed my mouth carefully as I took time to think through my response before I spoke.
"I plan to fulfill my obligations through Christmas Eve, assuming the committee allows it."
"The committee wants you gone. They've made that abundantly clear." He finally set down his knife and fork and turned a hardened glare on me. "You're aware that your continued presence is damaging Nathan's reputation."
I bristled, feeling the hair on my arms and the back of my neck rise.
I could've let Nate jump in to defend me, but for once, I felt like I needed to say something myself.
I was sick of people getting their say in while I sat there feeling too scared to talk.
"I'm aware of that, yes." I kept my voice steady. "But I didn't ask for this attention."
"My son made a poor decision influenced by infatuation with a much younger woman." His tone was cold and his eyes were daggers.
"You could've declined the Hearthkeeper appointment and instead you inserted yourself into his life."
"That's enough," Nate said sharply, and he grabbed his napkin as if he were about to throw it onto his plate.
"No, let him speak," I told Nate, then looked directly at Nate's father. "I'd like to hear what you have to say considering you know nothing about me. You haven't taken a moment of time to try getting to know me."
His eyebrows rose slightly. "Excuse me?"
"With all due respect, Mr. Bradley, all you see is a much younger woman who entrapped your son." I took a breath to calm myself so I didn't resort to shouting too, but I wasn't backing down. "I understand your concern for Nate. He's your son, and you want to protect him. But I'm not your enemy—and I'm not a gold digger."
The room got so quiet I could hear my own stomach churning.
Nate's mom had stopped eating, and her fork hovered over her plate with food still on it.
I could see the tension across Nate’s shoulders and back, like a serpent poised to strike, but I squeezed his knee under the table and shook my head.
"I grew up in a modest home in San Diego," I continued. "My father was a teacher. My mother worked as a nurse. They taught me to work hard and treat people with respect. I came to Boston to escape a situation that nearly destroyed me and built a new life from nothing. I took this job with Nate because it lines up with my career path in HR, and when he was desperate and put on the spot at the last minute, I agreed to help him withthe Hearthkeeper role to help him continue his good reputation. And the entire time, I knew it might drag me right back into the press."
I heaved out a sigh, and it was Nate's turn to offer me a nod of approval.
He relaxed his shoulders and watched me with a smile as I continued.
"What happened between me and Nate is entirely separate from our professional lives, and I love your son more fiercely than my own life.
To the point that I offered to walk away from everything just to preserve his reputation, and he told me no.
He wants me here, and I want to be here with him."
Nate's father had sat back in his chair, folded his arms over his chest, and his expression had softened to a look of mild annoyance.
It appeared he knew he was being proven wrong, so I kept going, but I lowered my tone and tried to appeal to his better judgment.
"I'm not trying to trap him or manipulate him or damage his career," I said. "I'm just living my life and trying to survive the opinions of other people who have too much time on their hands. I won't apologize for loving your son or for carrying his baby."
Nate's hand found mine under the table and I saw his eyes brimming with tears. "I love you," he mouthed at me, but it did nothing to calm the nerves in my body. I was shaking from head to toe.
Finally, Nate's dad cleared his throat and said, "I may have misjudged you, Ms. Harrison."
The words were stiff and formal, but they were music to my ears, even as his head dipped and he picked up his fork.
