“Are you asking how did I find out?” He didn’t move, just kept staring at the paper he held in his trembling hand. “I told you. First Lady Sonya came to me, but I was bound to find out since half of the population in D.C. seemed to know.”

Jeremy released the paper, letting it float slowly through the air until it landed at his feet. But he didn’t look down. “Babe, I...I can explain."

“There’s no need to explain. I know what happened. You were in bed with me one night and you went and screwed Sharonne the next night. And she, got pregnant. Didn’t she tell you?”

He rubbed his hands over his head as if he were trying to massage out a good thought, something that could save him. “It’s not even like that. It didn’t happen like that.”

I frowned. “I know how babies are made.”

He still didn’t look at me. “This is something that just...."

“Let me guess, you just happened to fall into Sharonnne’s....”

Before I could finish, he shouted, “No! It’s just that....”

“You’ve been living a LIE,” I said, matching his volume. “Our whole damn marriage has been a lie."

"That’s not true, you know how much I love you.”

“Really?" My voice was one decibel below a scream. I snatched the paper from the floor. “Is this your idea of love?” I mashed it against his face. “Is this how you show someone that you love them?”

“Babe.”

“Don't babe me,” I said, now feeling totally out of control. “Don’t ever babe me again!"

He shook his head as if he didn’t accept my words. “Look, we can work through this. We have to work through this."

“Are you kidding me? I’m supposed to just stand by you while you raise a child with another woman? And not only are you a cheater, but you stood here and lied to my face about it.”

“No, I’ve already been talking to her....”

My shoulders sagged and so did Jeremy’s as he realized what he’d just said.

“Look, Ginger,” his voice was softer now, “I did know about this, not right away, but...Sharonne did tell me.”

“When?” I wasn’t sure why I was asking for the details. It would just be more torture. But for some reason, I wanted to know. So I asked, “When did you find out?”

“She was about to give birth. She was about to have the baby. She wanted me to come to New Orleans to be with her.”

I shook my head, my rage moving aside to make room for all of my sadness.

“But I didn’t go!” he said, as if that was some kind of virtue. “I didn’t go because I thought Sharonne was lying. I hadn’t seen her in months; I’d broken it off.”