EPISODE 337
Written by: Bre L Drew
April 11, 2025
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Max expressed his feelings toward Shauna regarding her leaving him for months due to her being pregnant with Antoine's child, causing Shauna to ask if he wanted a divorce.
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Courtney was still upset about Steven keeping the truth about Emma not being a biological Covington, causing them to argue before he left for Orlando.
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Despite his marriage to Jordan, Tommy has made it clear he still has strong feelings for Tanner.
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Still reeling from the truth of parentage, Emma became intoxicated, causing Will to contact Jacques who made her leave with him.
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Unbeknownst to Tricia, Jolene was threatened by her husband, Wade, that he would hurt Tricia if she didn't go home to Bakersfield with him.
RADCLIFFE RECEIVING HOSPITAL
Mainly due to the difficulties regarding his personal life, Max Covington barely got four hours of sleep last night. Yet, despite the thoughts of his troubled marriage, he finds himself arriving at the hospital again this early afternoon.
With so much left unsaid between him and Shauna, he decided to come by; however, when he enters the private room on the labor and delivery floor, it's empty, though the room has traces of her presence, including an overnight bag on the chair beside the bed and her iPhone on the table.
He deeply exhales until he hears movement from behind, which makes him turn around.
A black, plus-size female nurse wearing pink scrubs with braids wheels in the pediatric crib, pushed it closer toward him.
"You must be Mr. Covington?" she assumes.
Max gives a casual nod.
"Your wife is conquering a walk with a friend in the halls, and you'll be pleased to know this little angel is doing well."
"That's good to hear," he responds, though his voice feels a bit distant, the weight of the situation still heavy on his mind.
​
"I'll let you two get acquainted," the nurse continues, unaware of the undercurrent of tension in the room. She turns and dashes off, leaving Max alone with the baby—his wife's child, the product of her one-night stand with Antoine.
Max stands there for a moment, trying to process everything. His heart grasps at the thought, but a strange pull of curiosity overcomes him. He strolls to the crib, looking down at the tiny girl, wondering how something so innocent could be born from something so painful.
The little girl lies there, her almond-brown complexion glowing under the soft light of the room. Her hair, full of dark curls, frames her round face, and she looks up at him with wide, brown eyes.
"I bet you're wondering who I am?" Max murmurs, as though speaking to her would make it all feel more real.
The baby innocently coos as something begins to stir inside him as he reaches down to touch her tiny hand.
Concurrently on the same floor, Shauna Covington, in her hospital gown underneath her robe, walks in the somewhat empty hallway with her best friend, Martha Saunders, by her side. Knowing after the sequence of events in their lives recently, they needed someone to confide in, Dr. Jamison instructed the new mother to do some exercise before being released.
"Well, I think we're neck and neck when it comes to family drama," Shauna remarks.
The single mother bartender told her about the fact that her estranged husband's aunt is also hers due to the long-ago affair her late grandfather had with Deirdre Covington and its ramifications, which is taking a toll on the families too.
Martha has her arm underneath Shauna's as they continue to move. "Oh yeah, because things around here are always dull," she remarks sarcastically. "Though I'm still surprised she felt charitable enough to donate bone marrow to Lenny."
Shauna knows that Emma isn't one of Martha's favorite people due to their history with Will, and she doesn't know why both of them saw anything in her ex-con uncle in the first place.
"How is she doing?" Shauna queries.
Martha and Shauna step aside when an expectant mother and her husband walk toward the elevator bank.
"Uh, so far so good; right now, they're keeping an eye on her immune system so she can't have too many visitors, but from what Louise and Mom said, she is hanging in there."
"Anyway," Martha says, changing the subject. "Any progress with you and Max?"
Shauna lifts her head automatically, indicating her reaction.
Martha doesn't react, knowing that expression from being her lifelong friend with her.
The pair soon reaches Shauna's room. As they enter, they're shocked to see not only Max present there but, at the moment, holding the baby that comes between him and Shauna.
FRANKLIN FARM: MAIN HOUSE
The familiar noises of cows, horses, sheep, and goats occupy the exterior of Franklin Farm on this partly cloudy morning as the telltale signs of spring are finally becoming noticeable; however, the soundtrack inside the main house is more domestic as Sarah Lynn Saunders is washing the rest of the leftover breakfast dishes in the kitchen.
About ten seconds later, Esther Saunders enters the room wearing a Wedgwood blue mock neck quarter sleeve printed 2-piece twinset.
It doesn't take long for her sister-in-law to notice her while finishing up her task and finally turn off the faucet, which water was cascading through, though the room remains silent.
"Oh, I see you're giving me the silent treatment like the rest of the family," the petite businesswoman concludes.
She had enough confrontation from Sarah Lynn's daughters over her role in keeping the fact that Emma is biologically related to them because of a thirty-plus-year affair between her late father, Jimmy, and her so-called former best friend, Deirdre Covington.
Sarah Lynn wipes her saturated hands onto the dish towel. "Esther, I'm doing my best not to judge you for what you did because you did step up where it counted."
As she is referring to the fact that the truth came out because of Lenny needing a bone marrow donor, her options were bleak as well as her leukemia prognosis; however, hopefully, it will extend her life.
Though grateful for being read the riot act by her late brother's wife, Esther still can hear the strong hesitance in her voice.
"Why do I hear a but about to come outta your mouth, Sarah Lynn?"
Sarah Lynn lifts her head to glance at her. "But tell me something, Esther: if Lenny wasn't sick or Emma wasn't even a match, were you still going to keep everyone else in the dark about Emma being a member of this family?"
"It's not that simple."
Sarah Lynn gauges her answer from Esther's response. "How could you do that?"
COVINGTON GROUP
In his office on the twentieth floor of the Covington Tower, Jacques Laurent, dressed in a dark tailored suit, leans back in his chair, speaking into the phone with an air of authority. "Make sure that copy is emailed to me by the end of the day."
​As he sets the phone down, Jacques notices Courtney Covington Sullivan standing in the doorway in her navy-blue skirt set.
"I thought I'd drop by to see how you were doing," Courtney says, her tone casual but with a hint of concern.
It doesn't take long for Jacques to realize where this conversation is heading. He gives her a weary look, his suspicions confirmed by the directness in her voice.
Courtney arches an eyebrow, sensing the tension in his voice. "How is Emma?"
Jacques' shoulders sink slightly, and he exhales slowly. "I know not where I would begin," Jacques says, his potent French accent adding weight to his words.
HOME FARM
The pinging of her iPhone ringing cuts through the thick haze of Emma Covington Laurent’s hangover. She groans as the sound seems to reverberate inside her skull, and for a moment, she just lays there, tangled in the silver satin straps of her gown, unable to move. Her head is pounding from the night before, but she finally grabs the phone from the nightstand inside her bedroom on the second story of the Home Farm estate.
From the slits of her eyes, streaks of sunlight burst through the drawn blinds, cutting through the dimness of the room like a sharp reminder of the day slipping away.
She swipes at the screen, barely lifting her head enough to see the caller.
“Hello?” Emma croaks, her voice thick with regret and exhaustion.
“Hey, girl. You alive over there?” Will Jackson's voice comes through with his usual casual tone. “How you holdin' up?”
He stands in the barn at Franklin Farm, feeding the cows.
"Please tell me that I didn't do anything too outrageous yesterday when we were together?" Emma queries.
Yesterday, after the truth came out about Emma’s biological ties to the Saunders family, everything seemed to shift in an instant. She had confided in him; told him she was related to them through a bone marrow donation that had saved Lenny's life—something she hadn’t known until just weeks prior when she'd overheard her mother and Esther's confession. That revelation had sent her reeling, and, in her confusion, she had drowned her sorrows in tequila at the club the same night.
Will pauses, thinking back to her drunken confession the night before. She had spoken openly—something that wasn’t typical for her—and admitted she regretted cheating on him with Jacques. "Nah, you’re good. You just got things off your chest, that’s all."
Emma sighs, rubbing her forehead as she tries to piece it all together in her head. "God, I can’t believe this... How do I even…?"
Before she can finish, she hears the soft creak of the door. Her eyes flicker to the doorway.
Will continues, unaware of the tension that’s building on the other end of the line. “Don’t worry 'bout the club, alright? Just take it easy today.”
“Thanks, Will,” Emma murmurs, her voice quieter now. "I will try."
She ends the call, staring at the phone in her hand, wishing she could just shut her brain off for a moment.
"I would rather not hear it," Emma mutters, keeping her eyes glued to the phone, her tone hollow and tired.
But Deirdre Covington refuses to let the matter drop. The small-framed red-haired woman, poised in a black Milano stitch midi dress, takes a deliberate step forward, then another, closing the door behind her, cutting off the space between them.
Her footsteps are soft, but they carry the weight of an unresolved past.
Emma’s grip on her phone tightens, desperately trying to hold onto something solid, anything to ground her in this moment.
She doesn't look up at her mother, her head still pounding, the weight of everything she's learned sinking deeper. The truth—about her father, the Saunders family, about the woman standing before her—feels too heavy to carry.
Deirdre watches her daughter, her gaze unwavering, as the silence stretches out like a thick fog. The tension hangs in the room, suffocating, before she speaks in a low, firm voice. "I’m not going anywhere until we talk."
HOME FARM: GUEST HOUSE
At the guest house on Home Farm, the lively sounds of Firebuds fill the air, the bright colors of the animated series glowing on the TV screen, while Jeremy Covington's face a mixture of concentration and excitement, was trying his best to explain the intricate world of his toys to his godmother.
His small hands waved enthusiastically, pointing to his action figures scattered across the living room floor.
“This one’s the Firetruck, but not just any Firetruck. He’s a Super Firetruck!” Jeremy said, his voice full of importance. “And this one’s the Jet and he can fly and fight the bad guys in the sky, like boom!” he added with an exaggerated arm motion.
Tricia, wearing a gray V-neck t-shirt paired with blue jeans and a black leather moto jacket, did her best to follow the whirlwind of Jeremy’s imagination, nodding along, a smile tugging at her lips, trying to wrap her head around the toy universe he was building. "So, Super Firetruck? and Super Jet?"
The four-year-old immediately corrects her with a shake of his blonde head. "No, Aunt Tricia, it’s just a jet." He looks at her with the kind of seriousness only a child could muster.
Before Tricia could respond, the sound of footsteps coming from the staircase grew louder. Jordan Covington enters the living room with a bright smile, fresh from her shower. She looked effortlessly stunning, her ruby red off-the-shoulder satin top paired with dark blue jeans that complemented her curves perfectly. Her hair, now a few shades lighter than before, had gone through a transformation—she was blonde again.
Jeremy, noticing his mom, immediately ran over, his excitement undeterred. Jordan bent down to give him a quick hug, then stood up. "Sweetie, why don’t you go play for a little while?” Jordan suggests gently.
"Okay!” Jeremy then hurries off toward his toys, leaving the two women to head into the kitchen.
The older woman chuckles softly and shakes her head. “That boy is something else. Creative, I’ll give him that,” she said, her tone a mixture of amusement and admiration.
Jordan nods in agreement, sitting down beside her. “Yeah, he’s definitely got a mind of his own. He’s been obsessed with these toys for weeks now. And I swear, every day, there’s a new backstory for them too.”
The two women stand in silence for a moment, watching as Jeremy made his toys “fight” off imaginary enemies.
The weight of the conversation turned more serious as Tricia shifted in her stance, her face softening as she glanced over at her friend.
“So, how have you been holding up, really?” Tricia asks her voice quieter now.
Jordan sighs deeply, her gaze far away for a moment as she processes the question. “Things are still not going the way I thought they would. I keep wondering if my marriage is always going to be like this forever?"
Mostly due to wanting his son to remain with him and to relieve her fears regarding Daniel, Tommy had married Jordan.
“Jordan, you don’t have to be in a marriage where you’re not feeling loved or valued.”
Jordan’s voice caught in her throat as she spoke again, the pain evident. “I just don’t know how much longer I can stand by and watch him care for someone else, Tricia. And it’s like I don’t even exist. He doesn’t show me any affection. How am I supposed to stay in something like that?”
Tricia’s face softened in sympathy, but her expression was firm. "Sometimes, it’s better to walk away than stay in something that isn’t serving you anymore.”
She then thinks of her situation with her former husband Sean and how despite their love for one another it wasn't enough for his own with Louise.
Jordan shook her head, her jaw tight. “I’m not going to lose my husband to your stepdaughter. I won’t let that happen.”
Before Tricia could respond, her iPhone rang, and she quickly glanced at the screen. The call caught her off guard, and she answered it with a sudden shift in demeanor. “Hello?”
As Tricia spoke briefly into the phone, Jordan’s gaze flickered to her friend. The conversation was short but seemed to weigh heavily on Tricia, whose expression had hardened.
After a moment, Tricia ends the call, lowering the phone with a look of frustration and concern etched across her face.
“What’s wrong?”
Tricia let out a deep breath. That was Mrs. Montez, my next-door neighbor growing up. She told me that my mother is in the hospital,” she said, her voice quiet but laced with tension.
Jordan’s face softens with immediate concern. “Tricia, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
Tricia shook her head slowly, her thoughts elsewhere. “I knew this was coming. When she went back to that son of a bitch last year, I begged her not to. But she wouldn’t listen. I knew it would end like this… after everything she went through with him.”
When her stepfather came to town to try to coax her mother to come back to California with him after she left him for cheating on her with a female co-worker, she knew it wouldn't be long before he got back to his abusive ways, which led Tricia to leave home many years ago.
"So, are you going to go to Bakersfield to see her?" Jordan asks
Tricia shrugs, her face clouded with uncertainty. She’s torn, the thought of returning to a place that’s filled with so many painful memories. Memories she’s been trying to leave behind.
"I don’t know..." Tricia whispers, her voice thick with hesitation.
Without saying another word, Jordan moves over to her friend. She places a supportive arm around Tricia, offering her the comfort of her presence. Tricia doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans into the embrace, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.
COVINGTON GROUP
By now, Courtney was entirely in Jacques' office, the door closed behind her, and Jacques remained behind his desk. "I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that my grandmother and Steven’s grandfather were ever intimate with each other," Courtney admits.
"Well, I think my wife is feeling the same way, it’s been really hard on her," Jacques says, his voice showing real concern. "Yesterday, I had to pick her up from The Cliffe. She’d had enough tequila to try to numb the pain."
Courtney can hear the worry in his voice, though she can’t help but wonder if he feels some embarrassment in admitting that.
The CEO ran her hand through her perfectly styled long brown curls, which she’d spent extra time on this morning before leaving the cottage.
"I’m aware that I’m not exactly close to my aunt, but if there’s anything I can do for her or you, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?"
Jacques bows his head, as though genuinely accepting her offer. "It must be tough for you to find out that Steven and his mother knew about all this and didn’t say anything either."
Jacques himself had pieced things together last year when he and Emma eloped to Puerto Rico about her paternity. He didn’t have much to go on, other than knowing the old woman had an affair with the late alcoholic farmer decades ago, but with Steven and Esther knowing the truth outright, it’s a whole different level of duplicity.
Courtney stands up a little straighter, runs her hands through her hair again, and turns toward him. "Steven and I had an argument over his role in all this. I know it wasn’t his truth to tell, but I’m his wife; he could have told me. But..." She stops herself, and Jacques looks at her, waiting for more.
"But, what?"
Courtney places her hands on her hips, her voice a little sharper now. "It feels like every time we argue, one of us always has to keep score of who’s right and who’s wrong. And it doesn’t help that Esther acts like she hasn’t done anything wrong, and my husband decided to leave town."
"Steven thought it was a good time to leave when your marriage is like this?" Jacques asks, sounding incredulous.
"His son needed him in Orlando," Courtney replies, her voice softer now.
Jacques nods thoughtfully. "I’m going to tell you something that I hope Emma will understand in time. Eventually, you have to pick yourself up and move forward. Yes, the truth is hard to take, but whether she’s blood-related to Patrick Covington or not, she’s still a Covington, and no DNA test can change that."
"And how are you planning to make sure Emma comprehends that?" she asks, genuinely curious.
"Trust me, I’m already working on it," Jacques replies.
Courtney glances at the clock. "All before 1pm?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.
Jacques nods. "All I need to do now is start the search for a new assistant and get that bid finalized, whether or not your brother likes my methods."
Courtney had assigned Jacques to work with her brother to secure an offer for land outside of town, hoping Jacques' business experience would rub off on the recent college graduate; however, it's evident neither man cares for the other.
Courtney by now is near the door but keeps a steadfast glare on her colleague. "Well, good luck with that,"
As she exits out of the office, Jacques decides to get to work, knowing this deal can make or break his career here, as he is using it to carve his own path in the business world without the ties to his family's shipping empire that had seen better days.
FRANKLIN FARM: MAIN HOUSE
Esther tries to explain herself again, her voice rising with frustration. “You have to understand, Sarah Lynn, I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. But I had my reasons, and I never thought things would end up like this."
"Look, I understand that finding out your father and your best friend were carrying on behind your mother's back is something no one should ever have to deal with, but it isn't Emma's fault if those circumstances led to her conception," Sarah Lynn remarks.
Esther places her hand on the countertop and shakes her head. "I'm not blamin' that girl for that. However, I'm sure that
Emma prefers to live the kind of life she was born into. And anyway, I wouldn't be so quick to invite her over for a barbecue just yet, darling."
"Well, she's family; that means she has a place here." Sarah Lynn notes. "Even Peter would've accepted that."
As Esther is likely about to refute that statement, Will enters the room from the side door, having done some chores instead of contributing rent, as he has been living here for years now. He exchanges looks with both women, and it's clear what—or more like whom—they were talking about before he got here.
"You all might wanna know that Emma isn't takin' this well. She got lit yesterday at the club after she left the hospital."
Will informs them. "And I called to check in on her and let's just say, she isn't exactly in good shape."
While Sarah Lynn shows a sympathetic glance, Esther crosses her arms onto her ample chest and shrugs. "And let me guess, I'm to blame for that too, huh?"
Will clears his throat. "All I'm sayin' is, whatever y'all do, give that girl some time to absorb all this."
"Thanks," Sarah Lynn says gently.
"Will, I appreciate you for telling us this, and as my best friend's child, I know you're coming from a good place, but let's not forget Deirdre played a part in this too. Even though she claims she didn't know who fathered Emma, she knew it was a 50/50 chance my daddy did, and she hid that from her own daughter her whole life. Not me!"
Will lifts his shoulder. "I'm just tellin' what I know. I'm going to go take a shower."
With that, the younger man heads out of the room, leaving the sister-in-law alone. Sarah Lynn throws Esther a look that can only be described as I'm not going to let this go.
HOME FARM
Emma pulls herself out of bed, slipping on her robe as she marches downstairs, her footsteps quick and purposeful. The weight of everything feels heavier now, and the more she thinks about it, the more she feels like she’s spiraling out of control. Deirdre follows behind her, her soft steps barely audible, but the tension in the air is unventilated.
“I’m not going to let you shut me out, Emma,” Deirdre’s voice is persistent. “You need to hear me out.”
Emma stops at the base of the stairs, her back stiff. “La, La, La La,” she spits out, her voice polluted with hurt. “I always suspected Patrick Covington never saw me as his child. Not like Daniel. He made it clear. He always favored him, and I—I just had to pretend it didn’t hurt.”
Deirdre opens her mouth, but Emma doesn’t give her a chance to respond. She continues, her voice shaking with the weight of her past. “And now I find out that I’m not even a Covington. You think I’m supposed to be okay with this?”
Deirdre’s face softens, a flicker of regret passing through her eyes, but she doesn’t relent. “What I had with Jimmy Saunders... it was different, Emma. It wasn’t just a mistake. It was—”
Emma scoffs loudly, cutting her off. “Different? Really?” She turns toward the counter and grabs a glass, filling it with water, trying to ease the pounding headache in her temples. “Yeah, well, it sure doesn’t feel that different when I’m the one left picking up the pieces.”
Emma, can you at least—"
The words are cut off as Emma takes a sip of the water. Her voice is cold, laced with sarcasm. “Don’t worry, Mother. I’m sure no one is going to go to the press.”
Deirdre blinks, her confusion palpable as she tries to process what her daughter just said. "What are you talking about?" she asks, genuinely perplexed.
Emma chuckles bitterly, the sound empty in the quiet room. "I know how you are when it comes to keeping these private familial events under the roof. Nobody else will know my connection to the other side of town."
She sets the glass down, and she stands there for a moment, staring at the counter. She’s about to say more, to spill everything that’s been festering inside her, when the doorbell rings.
Emma freezes for a moment, the sudden jingle of the doorbell yanking her from her spiraling thoughts. She blinks a few times, her mind still foggy from everything that’s just happened.
She exhales sharply, clearly not in the mood to deal with anything or anyone, but she knows she has to. The last thing she wants is for people to see her in this state, especially with the emotional storm she’s currently weathering. She walks to the door, her footsteps heavier than usual, and when she opens it, she’s greeted by a pair of people carrying bags smiling desperately,
"Mrs. Laurent? We’re ready for you!" one of them chirps, his enthusiasm grating against Emma’s fragile mood.
"Excuse me?" Emma asks, her voice thick with confusion as she takes in the sight of these strangers on her doorstep.
The slim white female speaks this time. "Your husband sent us here to get you looking like your fabulous self."
Her husband sent a glam squad? She pauses, almost about to question why the hell Jacques would think now was the right time for this—did he seriously think she looks like a hot mess?
But then, her eyes flicker toward her mother, still standing in the living room with that look of knowing distance. The idea of spending more time with her feels suffocating.
She turns back to the squad, her mind racing.
Despite her disheveled state, something about the distraction of having them here feels like a welcome escape. Emma’s eyes narrow for a moment as she processes it all, the heavy emotions of the past few days, her confusion about her family, and the pressure of everything crashing down.
Without another word, she leads the stylists upstairs, making sure to close the door behind her as the sound of their footsteps fades up the stairs.
Mentally, Emma checks on her to-do list, including getting the nearest bottle of aspirin and hopping in a shower to start sobering herself up.
Deirdre watches from the living room. Her lips press into a thin line as she mutters, nearly inaudibly, "Esther." The name is said with venom, a curse under her breath as her frustration with the situation bubbles over.
She turns away, her gaze flicking to the bar where she pours herself a gin and tonic, the potent smell of the alcohol filling her senses while lifting the glass to her lips.
RADCLIFFE RECEIVING HOSPITAL
The surprise of seeing Max holding the baby creates an awkward silence until Martha opens her mouth.
"Hey Max," she greets him, recalling the last time they had seen one another; they were aboard the yacht moments after Shauna gave birth.
Shauna still glances at her husband holding the baby, knowing how things are between them.
"Uh, I need to get home; so, I can change for work. Are you going to be alright?" Martha asks.
Shauna lightly nods. "Yeah."
Martha quickly embraces Shauna and gives her a peck on the cheek before taking in Max and the baby and leaving them alone.
"Max, if you came here for round three, I don't have the energy right now," Shauna notes.
Max places the baby into the crib and turns to his wife. "I couldn't sleep last night because you were on my mind."
"Look, I know that I betrayed everything we had, and I will always be sorry for that. And I'm not trying to excuse what I did. But what happened between Antoine and me only happened once. The only reason why I turned to him like that was because he gave me something that you couldn't at the time, and I know that sounds messed up, but it's the truth. And I still miss you and wish things were different."
Max had been paralyzed from the waist down due to the accident they were in, which took the life of their unborn child and left him impotent which caused several issues in their marriage.
"Shauna, it's more than that… I know I'm not one always to showcase my feelings, but when you told me the truth about you two, it hurt me more than anything that anyone has hurt me in my life."
Shauna folds her arms across her swollen chest due to breastfeeding. "So where do we go from here then?"
Max sticks his hands into his pockets and paces the room a bit. "So, have you thought of a name for her yet?"
"Max," Shauna says both impatiently and wonderingly.
"It would be easy to call this a day, and we move on with our lives," he confesses.
Shauna looks at her daughter and then back to him. "If that's what you want, I can't fight you on it."
But then he interjects. His steady gaze rests upon her. "I lay in our bed, bitterly accepting my sleepless fate, and I couldn't stop thinking about you. And when you were gone, I hoped I'd get another chance to show you how much you mean to me."
Shauna can tell by the tone in his voice and the way he feels that it's true. "Max, what are you saying?"
"I also couldn't stop thinking about, and as I held her, it all started to click."
"And what is that? Because I can't keep going back and forth with that precious girl in my life now. So, if you want to end things, then okay, I understand, and it'll just be the two of us living in South Carolina."
"South Carolina?" he asks, confused.
Shauna takes a piece of her loose hair and tucks it behind her ear. "One of my friends from college started an interior design firm out there, and she told me if there was any chance I would move, she would offer me a position. I don't think I could stay here."
"So, you don't plan to tell Antoine that he's..."
"The father?" Shauna interrupts. "No, and don't get me wrong. Antoine isn't a bad guy, but he would take the fact that this little girl is proof we belong together, and I don't want that or to be fair to her."
"Then what do you want?" Max asks for clarification.
Shauna sighs, her hands placed on her hips. "I want you, us, but I know that can never happen."
Tears begin to form in her eyes as she admits it.
Max steps closer to her. He stands several inches over her, and the familiar scent of his aftershave makes her realize how much she truly misses him, especially after the months of living aboard the yacht they were married on.
He wipes the dampness from her eyes, creating something intimate between them. "Who said it couldn't?"
Shauna gives a confused glance at her husband.
"I want what you want," he confesses. "And to make things less complicated, I want to take on the responsibility of being that little girl's father."
Shauna steps closer to the little girl, who's falling asleep in the crib. "You know what that would mean though?"
"That she would grow up in an insane asylum," he teases. "But she will be loved, and whatever has gone on between us and Antoine, she should be our first priority."
"I grew up without my father… and the less said about my mother, the better. And even though I will always be grateful for my grandparents, I know how much that affected me, not having that one man in your life that should love you selflessly," Shauna tells him. "I don't want that for her, but are you sure you want this?"
Max looks at the baby and then at her. "Pissed as I still am, at what you two did, I never stopped loving you. And I know you love that little girl, which makes me love her too. I think from the moment I stood by your side giving birth to her, I was already connected to her, and as I held her, something in me changed. I don't know how to explain it, but what I'm saying is true."
He also remembers how his father, despite being less than a traditional paternal figure, once said that there would come a time when he would do anything to protect his family.
Shauna walks over to her husband and they both stare at the little girl. "So, what should we name her?"
Max turns to her as she grasps his hand, and they continue to watch over the soon-to-be-named child.
END OF EPISODE
ON THE NEXT EPISODE OF TOWN AND COUNTRY
Elijah offers reassurance.
Max and Shauna reaffirm their plan.
Jacques' accomplishment unnerves Tommy.
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