I folded my arms, and looked down at him, still sitting on our sofa. “And is that what you’re doing, Jeremy? You’re ignoring your son?”

“My son,” he pushed himself up, moving slowly and speaking at the same speed, “is upstairs.” He said that without a flinch or a blink. He said that looking me dead in my eyes. “And I don’t have time right now for you to be coming at me with rumors and lies. Not when there is so much at stake.”

I let so many silent seconds pass, that Jeremy began to shift his feet.

“It’s amazing,” I finally began, “how you think you know someone and you really don't.”

He looked into my eyes. “You know me, Ginger.” He took a step toward me. “Think about it. Think about where we’ve come from.” Now, only inches separated us.

This time, I would not be moved. This time, I wasn’t going to duck from his touch. This time, I was going to stand.

He said, “We’ve built this together. We have a family, we have a church, we have a ministry that is growing and about to explode.” He sounded like he was acting as his own defense attorney. “And one other thing that we have; we have love.” When he rested his hands on my shoulders, I didn’t flinch. “I have never loved a woman the way I’ve loved you.”

He leaned forward, his lips aimed toward mine. He was tentative, though, as if he wasn’t sure if I would move or maybe slap him away.

I didn’t.

His lips covered mine and still I didn’t move. My hands stayed by my side, my lips did not invite him in. But for some reason when he leaned back, there was a smile on his face. As if he had no clue that was our final kiss.

“So we’re good?” he said, and that made me ask myself — did Jeremy really think I was that pathetic?

My response: I stepped away from him, but only to reach for my bag and I pulled out the envelope.

When I faced him, Jeremy was already trembling. His eyes were on what I held and he was already afraid. His hands shook when I handed him the manila envelope. Did he somehow know what was inside?

Still, he asked, “What is this?”

I said nothing, just watched him pull out the paper that I’d read hours before. And then, I watched his eyes buck. That broke me again, because he was filled with horror, but not surprise.

“So, I guess our two children are not your only ones.” He was still staring at the paper. “Congratulations, you’re a daddy again.”

I wasn’t sure if his silence was because of his shock or his story — the one he was trying to come up with for me.

Finally, he stuttered, Wh-How...?"