“I think you should call her and figure things out even though I’m sure she’s already on it.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He got off the bed and came around to my side. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to my forehead. He left them there as he muttered, “I’m sorry I fucked up. Again. I’m going to go outside and give you some space. If you need me, I’ll have my phone.”

He spun it in his hand as he walked out of the room. The swagger he usually held in his steps was gone.

Why did I feel like I’d broken him, broken us, when he’d been the one with the secret?