I-81 South — Thousand Islands, New York

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. God, I'm sorry! We've been over this. I didn't know what to do. What are you supposed to do when you find out you have a kid?"

"Tell any and all future parents or step-parents. Luke, she was gonna be my step-daughter! If you're gonna tell anyone, it should have been me!"

"I'm sorry! What else can I say? How do you know you wouldn't do the same thing?"

"A — I think I'd know about any kids I popped out. And B — I know I wouldn't do the same thing because I didn't do the same thing. I told Chris when I was pregnant. Right away."

"You said you didn't know about her until you were 3 months in. You didn't have to tell him — he would have been able to figure it out on his own soon anyway."

"Well, he's not that bright sometimes, maybe he wouldn't have."

"Right."

"I sure as hell would have told him before he walked in and found Rory filling salt shakers."

"Nice."

"Come on! We were engaged! Why wouldn't you tell me things?"

"Oh, and you've told me absolutely everything that's happened to you?"

"Well, no! Not everything. I never told you that you left a shirt at my house six years ago, before we were anything, when you fixed the washing machine and that I wore it to bed all the time because it smelled like you. I never told you that once, when Rory was little and we shared a bed in the shed at the Inn that I had a nightmare and actually wet the bed and had to blame it on my five-year-old daughter! I never told you that yes, sometimes I actually like to eat vegetables on my own. I never told you because it's more fun to hear you yell at me about them. I never told you that you were the only guy I ever slept with in my house. I didn't tell you everything, but the big stuff? Yeah, I tol…"

"What?"

"…"

"What?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… I'm such a fucking hypocrite."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm a hypocrite. And a liar, too, apparently."

"How?"

"I thought I was pregnant. Last year. Here I am ready to kill you for the April thing, and I did the same thing."

"You… What?"

"I thought I was pregnant. When Sookie had Martha. And I panicked. I full-on freaked out. We weren't engaged, we hadn't talked about kids, we were just getting back to normal after...

"… How? When?"

"The New York thing. Lots of alcohol plus no food plus you dressed all hot equals no roadblocks. No roadblocks lots of times."

"Roadblocks?"

"Think about it. You really think you cared about condoms that night?"

"No… I can't beli-"

"Believe it. But I wasn't. Obviously. And I was so freaking relieved you have no idea."

"And you're telling me this now, why? Get something off your chest when you know I'm in no position to ream you out over keeping secrets?"

"No."

"Then what the hell?"

"Because after all this you have no idea how much I now wish I had been. Pregnant. Then. No idea."

"… I don't know if-"

"I know it's stupid, I know. A baby doesn't fix things. But you can't seriously sit there and tell me that things wouldn't have gone differently if there was a 3-month old kid here right now screaming its lungs out."

"Well…"

"Or if you already had a kid coming when April showed up… Forget it, doesn't matter now."