I never told my in-laws that my father is the Chief Justice. I spent the entire day cooking Christmas dinner for the family, only to have my mother-in-law make me eat while standing in the kitchen.

Doctors were able to stabilize us.

I remained in the hospital.

Monitors.

Medication.

Observation.

Fear.

For nearly twenty-four hours, nobody could promise me how the pregnancy would end.

Dad arrived shortly after dawn.

He did not arrive in robes.

He did not bring reporters.

He did not bring state police to arrest my husband.

He came in an ordinary dark suit with the same worn overnight bag he had carried since I was a child.

When he walked into my hospital room, I became eight years old.

“Dad.”

He crossed the room.

I cried before he reached the bed.

He put his arms around me.

And for several minutes, the Chief Justice of the Texas Supreme Court did absolutely nothing important.

He just held his daughter.

Eventually he sat beside me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I knew what he meant.

Not who David was.

What David was doing.