I laid awake all night after telling Negan he had a choice to make. Every time I closed my eyes I pictured the sight of him crying, lost in the memory of his late wife. I hated seeing him like that—hating knowing that I was the one to cause him to relive such sorrow.

It should have been obvious he cheated on Lucille, but somehow I didn't see it coming. And my response had been nothing short of cold and uncaring. I wondered how she reacted when she first out. Did she cry? Did she resent him, or did she somehow understand it? His need to share his bed with multiple women wasn't something I could wrap my head around. I didn't desire other men. I just wanted him—and I wanted him to just want me.

Perhaps it was selfish, but I really thought he'd sneak into my room, climb under the sheets, wrap his arms around me, and tell me what I so desperately wanted to hear—that he was choosing me. I also knew that giving him an ultimatum would probably push him away for good. The longer I waited, the more I began to regret it. Part of me wanted to go to him and take it back. Another part insisted I wait for him to make up his mind. I wasn't happy having to share him, but I wasn't happy without him. We'd always found compromises, but him having wives wasn't something I could get used to.

Unable to rest, I watched the door for hours until Abby woke up needing a diaper change. Even after she fell back asleep, I sat with my thoughts until the sun rose and the people of the Sanctuary began to wake.

Negan never came.

I kept to myself that day, nervous about the evening. Every night after dinner, Negan would come to collect the books where all the points from the day were recorded. I dreaded the idea of him acting cold towards me. He had opened up to me, talking about Lucille and admitting his infidelity. I knew when he came to my room, things would be uneasy.

When a knock sounded at my door, I looked up from my bed, where I was working with a little calculator and notebook. My heart skipped a beat and I took a deep breath.

"Come in!" I called, and winced as my voice cracked. I sounded nervous, and I mentally cursed myself for it. The door opened slowly, and a woman with blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail entered.

"You done yet?" she asked, pursing her lips and looking down at where the notebooks were scattered across my comforter. I studied her a few seconds and then blinked. Negan had sent her instead of coming himself.

"Almost," I responded, picking up a pen to quickly fix a math error and turning my attention back to the books, hoping I didn't look as disappointed to see her as I felt. "It's gonna be a few more minutes."

"Actually, Negan wants them now. If you don't mind…" I glanced up to see she appeared to be studying my scars. She looked away just as I caught her staring and cleared her throat. "I'm Laura, by the way."

"Elle," I replied as I closed the record book and began gathering everything up. "I could have brought him these myself…" I did my best to hide my frustration.

"Not necessary," Laura said, peaking into the crib where Abby was sleeping. She smiled a bit as she gazed down at her and then looked up at me. "Cute kid."

"Yeah… she is." I stacked up the notebooks and then held them out to Laura, who took them.

"Thanks, Elle. I'll see you tomorrow."

I just nodded as a lump formed in my throat. With that, Laura left my room and I sat back down on my bed. I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt that Negan was sending Laura in his place. I wondered if he was going to avoid me from now on.

Over the next couple days I hardly saw Negan. He kept himself busy dealing with matters of the Sanctuary and his other communities, opting to visit them instead of sending his men. Most nights he didn't return until late. I only saw him in passing, and even caught him staring at me one morning. I was making my way to the showers, but he glanced away and pretended not to notice me.

That weekend, Eric finally got to come home. He spent two full days with Abby and didn't put her down the entire time. He wanted to do everything—change every diaper, feed her every bottle, and tend to her every single need. I could tell he really missed her. He never complained once. I remembered Amy saying he was going to be a good father. She was right.

I took the opportunity to try and catch up on sleep, but it didn't work in my favor. Unable to relax, I tried reading a book, but struggled to focus on the story. Giving up, I spent the majority of my time curled up on my bed staring off into space.

I felt depressed—not just because Negan didn't want anything to do with me anymore, but I didn't have a purpose. Counting points and watching Abby was all I had, and Laura always seemed to take the records long before I had time to finish them. With Eric home, I had no responsibilities. I felt useless.

But when the weekend was up, Eric had to return to Simon's outpost. Abby became my responsibility again, and it wasn't long before I wished Eric hadn't left.

She threw up after every bottle, and was always awake when I was at my tiredest. I couldn't resent her for it. She was just a baby, but I became angry with myself. My negativity was affecting my ability to properly care for her. If only Amy could of heard me. She'd have given anything for even five more minutes with her daughter, and here I was mentally bitching.

It was that kind of guilt that added to my increasing self doubt. I hated feeling so damn alone. The urge to go to Negan grew stronger. Maybe if I just talked to him, he'd forgive me…

Feeling exhausted one evening, I brought Abby to Vivienne and asked if she could watch her. I just wanted to get a full night's rest, but Vivienne wasn't eager to help.

"I have a lot on my hands," Vivienne said, giving me a stern look. "Can't you just put the crib in Negan's room?"

I hated that she would assume that's why I needed a night off. No one appeared to have realized we hadn't talked in over a week.

"I know you're busy, Viv. I just need one night. Please." I was begging her.

"Okay, but make sure to come get her in the morning. I've got weeding to do tomorrow."

Once Vivienne agreed to watch Abby, I went back to my room and crawled into bed. It wasn't that I was sick of taking care of her—I loved Abby. But my lack of sleep was causing me to lose patience and I needed a reset.

I wanted so badly to pass out, but couldn't relax. Tossing and turning for a few hours, I finally got up and wrapped my knitted blanket around my shoulders. I had a huge sense of déjà vu as I crept down the dark hallway. After I'd finished my rehab, I hadn't been able to sleep and visited him. Back then things had been good, if even for a short time.

I decided in the little distance from his room to mine that I would make myself get over the fact he had six wives. Hell—I was so fucking lonely, I was willing to become number seven, if that's what he wanted. I could fix everything if I just took it all back.

Reaching his door, I hesitated. I hated that I wasn't being true to myself, but perhaps that was the price I had to pay. If I was going to be with him I needed to swallow my pride.

Lifting my hand, I balled it into a fist and prepared to knock when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Twisting my head and staring down the hall frightened, I blinked a few times at the nothingness before me.

My heart pounded in my ears.

I would have sworn I saw Amy.

I closed my eyes and held my breath.

Please. Not her.

When I looked again, I was relieved to find the ghost had disappeared. It had been a long time since I'd hallucinated, and it was probably due to my newfound insomnia. But of all the people I'd lost, I knew I couldn't handle seeing Amy. She wouldn't understand why I was coming to him now. She would have hated it.

I went to knock again when my mind brought me back to the infirmary in the last moments I'd spent with her.

'Don't you dare marry that man. Not until he pulls his head out of his ass and realizes how special you are.'

I'd promised her I wouldn't give in, but back then I didn't know how hard this was going to be. I was miserable. Whether he was doing this on purpose or not, he was killing me. These long periods of time where he avoided me were causing me to lose my mind. I had no one. Vivienne was too busy to take on my problems, and Eric was miles away. Negan felt like my only option, and yet I was too fucking stubborn to just forgive him.

Yes, he'd slept with Sherry, but we'd been through so much together. He saved me from Caleb. He helped me recover and get over a drug addiction. He protected me from Derek. He wouldn't have done that if he didn't care.

So why couldn't I forgive him?

Lowering my hand, I hung my head and did my best to ignore the red haired ghost that had reappeared and watched me silently from the dark.

I knew I'd hate myself even more if I knocked.

So I didn't.

Knock Knock Knock!

I didn't bother looking up from the notebook on my lap and picked up the calculator to punch in some numbers. "It's open!" I called out, furrowing my brow at another error. I swore, some of these Sanctuary members couldn't even handle basic math. My door opened, but I scribbled out the mistake to correct it. "I just need two more minutes…" I'd learned to be more assertive with Laura and didn't allow her to take the books until I was finished.

When she didn't say anything, I looked up to find it wasn't Laura standing in my doorway. Instead, Negan was leaning against the frame, silently studying me. We just stared at each other, and then I swallowed hard.

"Need anything?" he asked casually.

Breaking eye contact, I looked away. "No."

"Okay," Negan replied, and then pulled my door shut. I sat confused on my bed and didn't even have time to process the bizarre interaction when he came back into my room.

"Are you hungry?" he asked with furrowed brows. He had an intense, serious expression on his face and I glanced over at the wall clock.

"Dinner isn't for another hour," I pointed out.

"Dinner's whenever the fuck I want it to be," he said. I frowned at his arrogant tone and glanced over at Abby who was sleeping.

"I need to be here in case she wakes up," I mumbled, picking up the calculator to go back to my work. When he didn't say anything, I looked up to see Negan was gone, but he'd left my door open. A few minutes later, he returned carrying a little white object. Setting it on my nightstand near Abby's crib, I realized it was a baby monitor. I was about to ask him why he hadn't given it to me sooner, but he spoke before I could.

"Now you're out of excuses," he said, while gesturing to the books on my lap. "Leave that shit here."

"No. I'm not done." I narrowed my eyes at him and gave him a stern look. I didn't like him coming in here and bossing me around.

We stared each other down for a long time before he pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. His features softened when he looked at me again.

"Elle, please."

I noted there were bags under his eyes and wondered if he'd had as many sleepless nights as me. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but I was also curious on what he had to say. There was something desperate about the way he was looking at me.

Setting the calculator off to the side, I glanced over at Abby as I got up from the bed. She'd only been asleep a few minutes, but could wake up any moment. Getting up from the bed, I inspected the battery controlled baby monitor. Once I was content it was working, I set it back down and then nodded slightly, agreeing to go with him. We both left my room, closing the door behind us.

We walked the short distance to his room in silence. When we reached his door, he held it open and gestured for me to go inside. The second I stepped in I searched the room for the other monitor, needing to know I'd be able to hear Abby. Sitting on his table next to his love-seat was the other baby monitor, along with two BLTs on paper plates and a bottle of red wine. Studying the sandwiches, it was impossible not to think of our trip to the sporting goods store. It felt like another lifetime ago.

"Eat up," he said, inviting me over to the love-seat. He sat first, but watched me closely, almost as if he didn't expect me to join him. Moving slow, I sat down next to him and then picked up one of the sandwiches. I tried to keep a straight face, not wanting him to see the conflicting emotions that were running through me. Part of me had butterflies in my stomach. Another was becoming irritated with him. He couldn't just win me over with bacon.

As I chewed, I did my best to ignore him. He was blatantly staring and was making me uncomfortable.

"I'm fucking terrible at this shit," he started, eyes still on me. "Thanks for agreeing to talk."

I frowned at him and swallowed. I wondered if the reason he had food was so that my mouth was too full to argue.

"You've been avoiding me for weeks," I responded in a quiet voice.

"I'm not fucking avoiding you! I've been really fuckin' busy trying to keep these communities in line…"

"Yeah, okay," I replied dryly. Setting down my sandwich, I stood up from the couch. "Thanks for the BLT, Negan."

"Wait!" He reached out quickly to grab my wrist, causing me to freeze. "I didn't bring you here to fucking argue. I have something I need to say."

Part of me didn't want to hear it, but another kept me from moving. Sitting back down, I gave him a dour look and waited to hear it.

"These last weeks have been hell. I can't fucking stop thinking about you. I know you probably hate me right now, and I have that fucking coming after what I did. But I need you to know… I regret it. I regret hurting you and wish I could take it back, but I can't. I can only try to do better…"

He reached out and rubbed at my arm as he spoke, and I didn't pull away. I watched him as he continued.

"I haven't had to do the romance shit since Lucille, but I'm willing to try. For you. I don't want to lose you, Elle." There was something in his voice—something profound that caused me to look up into his eyes. His expression was earnest. "If you'll still fuckin' have me."

I was so torn—I couldn't deny I'd missed him too, but I was still hurting. I never expected he would apologize and try to fix things. But maybe my problems were bigger than his polygamy.

"I hate this," I whispered as I closed my eyes and tried my best to fight the building tears. I didn't want to cry. I was so sick of crying. "I feel alone…"

"You're not," he said frowning.

"Amy's gone. Eric's at the outpost, and Vivienne is too busy with gardening. I feel like I don't have a purpose. I used to be somebody. No one needs me anymore."

"That's not fucking true," Negan said. "Abby needs you."

I shook my head. "No, I'm not cut out for this. I'm not a parent."

"That's bullshit and you fucking know it." Negan took my hand into his and stared me down with a worried expression. "She is lucky to have you and she's gonna grow up to be a fucking badass. Just like you and her mom…" At the mention of Amy he trailed off and almost sounded regretful for bringing her up before continuing. "You need to stop being so fucking hard on yourself."

I stared off into space. It wasn't like I was doing it on purpose. I wanted to feel confident about my parenting skills, but the lack of sleep and contact left me feeling as if I wasn't good enough.

"Elle, look at me."

When I did, I was met with warm hazel eyes. Tilting my chin up he leaned forward.

"I need you," he whispered, as he nuzzled his nose back and forth against mine. Then his lips met mine in a gentle kiss. At first I didn't respond, and then a few moments later, I returned it. It was short, but sweet. When he sat up, he pulled me into him and I pressed my head against his chest. Negan rubbed my back as he held me.

"I'm here."

We didn't move for a long time and I listened to the sound of his heart, feeling safe in his arms. I'd been so touch starved that the simple act of him holding me was all I needed to just relax. I closed my eyes and focused on our combined breathing. It lulled me like a soft, hypnotic song, and I began to drift.

Negan must have sensed I was falling asleep, because he let me go and helped me to sit up a bit.

"Get in bed. You can spend the night here."

I hesitated. As much as I loved the familiarity and comfort of his embrace, there was still one question burning at the back of my mind.

What about his wives?

I was just about to ask when I heard his door start to slowly open. Looking over, my heart dropped at the sight of Frankie, clad in her tight-fitting black dress and high heels. She was carrying what looked like a basket filled with bottles of lotion and body oil.

"You've been so stressed lately and I just thought…" She started to say and then noticed I was sitting with him. "Oh. Hi, Elle." The redhead looked surprised to see me, but gave me a friendly smile.

Smiling back at her, I pulled away from Negan and quickly got to my feet, suddenly feeling very awake.

"Elle, wait. Where are you going?!" Negan got up from the couch and followed me over to the door. I tried not to look at Frankie as I passed her, and was almost out when Negan grabbed my hand.

"Elle, stop!" he exclaimed, "It's just a fucking massage!"

Spinning on my heel, I glared at him through tear-filled eyes. We both knew that wasn't true.

"Have a good night," I muttered, exiting the room.

As I rushed down the hall, I heard Negan's booming voice echo behind me.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" he bellowed at Frankie just as I reached my room.

Closing my door, I pressed my back against it and slid down.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

As I pulled my knees up to my chest, I couldn't help but picture the sight of Frankie in her little black dress. Though I tried to fight it, soon tears began to stream down my face.

He wasn't leaving his wives.

He wasn't choosing me.

"Goddammit!" I wailed, burying my face in my hands. I felt like such an idiot, falling for his sweet, stupid words. I really thought he was going to try. But he wasn't. If he hadn't changed or Lucille, why would hechange for me?

I continued to cry, deciding I would let it all out. I cried in frustration. I cried for Amy, for Philip, for Seth, for Ryan, for Derek and Charlotte. I cried for what could have been and what never would be.

I cried knowing it was over between Negan and me.

"I wish he never found that fucking school," I said as I wept.

I was shuddering with sobs when my head shot up as another cry matched my own. Looking over at the crib, Abby was staring at me with watery eyes through the wooden bars.

Getting up from the floor, I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and hurried over to her.

"Sorry," I said in a hoarse voice. Picking her up, I rocked her gently, swaying side to side in an attempt to soothe her. "I'm so sorry, Abigail." I stared down at her with a pained expression, feeling foolish for my loud outburst. She cried for a few minutes, but I could tell she was still tired. Her little eyes could barely stay open.

After giving her the beloved pacifier, Abby drifted back to sleep. Setting her back in her crib, I sat down on my bed and watched as her little chest rose up and down. My head felt fuzzy and my nose was raw. I took some deep breaths, trying to calm down.

Then I looked over to the side, my whole body went rigid.

The baby monitor.

The device was still sitting on my nightstand with a little green light signifying it was set to 'ON'. I remained frozen, unable to move as I realized Negan would have heard me crying.

Closing my eyes, I tried to ignore the sound of his voice repeating inside my head.

"I'm here."

I shook my head.

No. You're not.

Picking up the monitor, I located the power button and switched it off.