Decker knew about the baby. He thought the child was adopted by a nice family in the suburbs. But that never happened. And when Gemma heard the news of Decker’s passing, the reality hit her that she was a single mother of an eight-year-old boy whose story of conception was a complete and total lie. Every night she thought about how the father of her child was now dead, ruining the chance for her son to ever meet him or know him.

Clearly she was overwhelmed by her choice to do this entirely on her own and in secret. I had to help. The only way I knew how was with money. I couldn’t ask my parents for it and didn’t have the means to do something about it myself, so I took money from Decker’s policy.

When you asked me what I had been up to for the last four and a half years, what I really wanted to say was: saving up to pay you back. That’s what all those ridiculous side hustles were about. Ironically, I just donated my last batch of plasma a week before Debbie called me about the urn. And now here we are. I never wanted us to amount to this: just some payback and some paternity proof, but I don’t really know how to tie up this loose end.

I’m so, so sorry.

-Brian

A small part of me had been wishing I wasn’t so good at playing detective after all, but this letter confirms it. Brian took the money and gave it to Gemma and Aiden. Kudos to him. That’s a lot of baggage to hide while just seamlessly sliding back into someone’s life.

When I left Debbie’s house, I left with more than just proof Decker fathered a kid before our time. I left with proof that relationships aren’t about things like probability.

Take Brian, for instance. Brian is a 95 percent match with me, which leaves just a 5 percent chance he’d ever do something like lie or steal from me. But he still did both of those things.

So what am I supposed to do now? On paper, which is exactly what I’m looking at, this is a matter of blatant betrayal. But on the other hand, his letter is pure honesty laced with good intentions.

I’ve sifted through hundreds of guys since Decker died, holding them up against what I know a good relationship looks and feels like. Honesty and good intentions top that list for me even though they are hard qualities to come by. That’s why I haven’t dated anyone seriously. That’s why I haven’t slept with anyone since Decker.

That’s right. Little Miss Tinder hasn’t had sex with another man since Decker died. Mourning a spouse while simultaneously having desires for someone else is fraught territory, to say the least. But the confusion of it all isn’t everything.

There’s a horror to the universe when you lose someone you love. But there’s also an awesomeness when someone new and amazing arrives. I know that, but I’ve never been ready for that, despite how all my outward efforts to find love would appear to differ.