Taylor rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t … I don’t want you to leave me.”

I hugged him. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” he asked.

I cocked my head.

“Promise me, Falyn. Promise you’ll stay.”

I shrugged, a bit amused. “Where else am I going to go?”

He touched my face with that look in his eyes, as if he were studying every curve, every line. He sighed, his eyes glossing over. “I didn’t know. I thought you … I thought we were … I was pissed at you. I just wanted to get my mind off of it for a night.”

I paused. “What night are we talking about?”

“Last week. When I was in San Diego.”

I shrugged again. “So, you got drunk?”

The worry that had been in his eyes all day, the dread, even some of the things he’d said now made sense.

My lips parted as the truth set in.

“Baby, I swear to God, I didn’t know we were still together. That’s not an excuse because I shouldn’t have done it anyway.”

“What did you do?” I asked, scooting away from him and covering myself with the corner of the comforter. The question had two meanings.

“I went to some dive bar with Thomas. I was upset, and I got as fucking plastered as I could. Thomas left, and I stayed.”

“You went home with someone.”

“I … the bar was across the street from Thomas’s place. She came back with me.”

“So, he knows,” I said, rolling my eyes at my own words. “Of course he knows. He didn’t want you to tell me.”

“He didn’t believe you’d forgive me.”

“I won’t.”

Taylor’s mouth popped open, and then he moved toward me.

I hopped off the bed, yanking the comforter until Taylor stood and I could take it with me. “I admit that what I did was shitty. I have no excuse. It was an awful way to make sure you knew what you were getting into. But you …” I touched my forehead. “You said you were thinking about it. You were thinking about our future and whether you wanted to be with me despite the fact that I’m barren. And you go fuck someone? How exactly did that help your process?”

He stood up, slipped a pair of shorts on, and took a step toward me.

I held out my hand, palm out, and then pointed at him. “Don’t touch me.”

His shoulders sagged. “Please don’t hate me. I thought I was going to go nuts last week. I can’t go through that again, Falyn. I can’t fucking do it.” His voice broke.

I sat down on the bed, staring at nothing in front of me. “Well, I can’t either. So, now what?”

He sat next to me. “You can’t what?”