I cleared my throat. “It was only the one time. I was drunk out of my mind, and it could barely be considered sex. I didn’t even come.”

“Then how do you know this baby is yours?”

It was hard to miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. I had been there, too, once. The twisted feeling of immense loss took me so unawares that I relayed my memories and pain.

Since that stupid drunken night at Everly’s, I had managed to avoid her for three weeks, despite her desperate attempts to get in touch with me. I had blocked her number and turned into a hermit, not leaving the house unless absolutely necessary.

I was drowning in guilt and self-disgust, my only thoughts geared towards Alexis—how I would break the news to her, and what I had to do so she wouldn’t leave my pathetic ass. As you’d expect, I hadn’t come up with a solution.

A heavy knock sounded from the front door, and a sense of anxiety spiked through my system.

Alexis was at work, and our families wouldn’t bother knocking. So I didn’t have to guess who was on the other side.

My own personal demon had hunted me down—demanding my soul, no doubt.

Let’s get this over with.

I yanked the door open to find Everly on the landing, a pleasant smile on her face as if she was popping round for an innocent catch-up. Not today, Satan.

“Can I come in?”

“No,” I said, blocking her way. I stepped outside, slamming the door behind me. She processed my aggressive tone and gave me a wide berth, stumbling back a couple of steps. Don’t ever touch me again. “You’re not welcome in my house. My wife’s house. Whatever you have to say, you can say it outside.”

“Why are you being so hostile?”

“Because you’ve ruined my fucking life, Everly,” I hissed, keeping my voice low. It wouldn't do for me to start screaming, alerting the whole damn neighbourhood to our infidelity.

“So I take it you haven’t told her yet?”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you? That should give you your answer.”

“Well, when are you going to tell her so we can focus on us?”

Umm… what?

“Us?” I managed to splutter. My mouth was working on autopilot as my brain misfired.

“Yes.”

“What makes you think there’s an us?”

“Please,” she scoffed. “You imploded your entire marriage for me. We wanted each other, and we finally gave in. It wasn’t the best timing, but we couldn’t hold back our feelings that night—the night we made love.”

“Made. Love?” I was frozen, my muscles taut as I tried to refrain from wrapping my fingers around her throat. How did I miss the fact that this bitch was delusional?