As the end of May rolled around, I was beginning to see what Ginny had meant about it feeling like there was simply not enough time left to finish planning a wedding. Fred and I had decided on getting married on December 31st-New Years Eve-and even though it was seven full months away, I was beginning to panic. There was just so much to do and so little time.

The one good thing about how busy I'd been lately, was that it gave me a reason to avoid Fred's attempts to finish the conversation we'd begun three months ago in the St. Mungo's waiting room. The children discussion. He'd tried to bring it up multiple times, but I would successfully avoid it whenever he did, using various wedding, work, too-tired-to-talk-now sort of excuses.

I knew the conversation would have to happen sooner or later-we were getting married. Typically, the desire-or not-to have children was a normal and rational topic to come up between two people who are planning a future together. But we'd already had the conversation before. Sort of. I'd told Fred I could see myself starting a family with him. Which I could. But I had yet another hurdle to jump over. I still had more issues to work through-all stemming from my childhood and from what Eric had done to me. It was never ending and it was exhausting.

I was feeling frustrated with myself again. Frustrated and not to mention, guilty that I, again, was feeling paralyzed by my past. And right now, it was easier to just shove all of those feelings and thoughts away and ignore them. But I also knew I wouldn't have the excuse of wedding planning at my disposal much longer. There was going to soon come a time when I'd have to face the music and talk to Fred about it.

That time was not now, however. Now, on one late Saturday afternoon in May, the topic of discussion between me and Fred was the wedding. The wedding and my ever growing panic about the wedding.

On this particular Saturday, Fred and I were in the flat getting ready for Ginny and Harry's surprise first anniversary party. Ron and Hermione had planned it and were holding it at their house-which they'd been living in for about a year and that Fred and I still hadn't visited. Usually when we saw Ron and Hermione, it was at the Burrow, or we were meeting up in public like at the Leaky Cauldron or in Diagon Alley. Hermione said they'd been wanting to invite us-she'd mentioned it to Ron quite a few times (incessantly, to use Ron's word), but for all of us, life was busy, work was busy, and time just flew by.

"I don't see what you're so worried about," Fred commented from where he was at the bathroom mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. "We've got everything under control."

I made a face in exasperation from where I was looking at my own reflection, but in the bedroom mirror as I put in a pair of pearl earrings that Tom and Martha had given to me for Christmas last year. I whirled away from the mirror and went over to the bedroom door so that I could see directly into the bathroom across the hall, and therefore, aim my exasperated expression at Fred. "So much could go wrong between now and December. And there's so much left to do!"

"Like what?" Fred asked calmly, turning to face me and crossing his arms as he raised his eyebrows. "We've picked a date, you've picked out a dress, we've picked a location-"

"For the reception," I argued. "Not the ceremony. And only because Tom and Martha graciously offered us the Leaky Cauldron. They're shutting down business to regular patrons, for us, Fred."

"I know they are," Fred said with a chuckle. "I don't know why you're bringing that up. I've been more than appreciative. You know that. But besides, they insisted and it's also only for one night, so I'm sure it's truly alright by them."

"Regardless, that's not the point. The point is that we still have to pick a location for the ceremony."

"Okay, but that's pretty much all that's left. You've chosen bridesmaids, I've got my groomsmen, Martha and my mother are going to collaborate on cooking and baking. You've asked Tom to walk you down the aisle. We've hired a florist, you've picked out flowers and colors and linens for the table settings. We've chosen what kind of cake we want. What else is there?"

"What else is there?" I asked breathlessly. I groaned and buried my head in my hands before turning and walking back into the bedroom.

"Sophie," Fred said, his voice soothing as he followed me.

I leaned against the dresser and raised my head from my hands to look at him wearily. "We still have to pick out and send invitations. Rachel, Kayla, Allie and Ginny have to pick out their bridesmaid dresses. We need to figure out music and centerpieces for the tables. And wedding favors!"

"Wedding favors?" Fred asked.

"Yes," I answered. "Wedding favors! Don't you remember-at George and Katie's wedding, everyone had a mug at their place setting with the wedding date printed on it and each mug had some a chocolate frog and a recipe for hot chocolate inside. And at Ginny's wedding, everyone got a different scented candle that was personalized."

"Right," Fred muttered. "I still don't understand how a scent can be personalized."

"It was very personalized," I told him. "Yours smells like cinnamon."

Fred laughed. "Okay...so?"

"So-it's very you. It's fiery. Spicy-you know?"

"You're calling me spicy?" Fred asked, smirking as he wandered closer to me, his eyes traveling over me from head to toe and back again. "Is that another way of you saying I'm hot?"

I stared at him in a mix of annoyance and amusement as he reached me and gently pulled my arms away from my chest before sliding his hands down my arms so that he could lace his fingers with mine.

"You're like a damn firecracker is what I'm saying," I said.

"You'd describe a firecracker as spicy?" Fred asked, tilting his head. "Interesting."

I actually let out a laugh. "You know what I meant."

"Not sure I do," Fred retaliated.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes as I looked away, averting my gaze to the window, where the sun was hanging low in the sky, a few hours away from setting.

Fred seemed to notice the exhaustion in my face and gave my hands a squeeze. "Hey...Soph. Sophie, come on, look at me."

I did as he said and he gave me a comforting smile before putting a hand on my cheek, lightly brushing his thumb across my skin. He slid his hand to the back of my neck and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to my forehead.

"It's going to be okay, Soph," he whispered. "You've got this. We've got this. Remember, you've got a lot of people here who will gladly help you with whatever you need. People who love you. And most importantly, you have me. We're in this together."

"Fred, you didn't even remember half of the things we have left to plan for," I laughed.

"I may need some guidance, but I want to be involved. I want to help. And that's the way it should be. You shouldn't be expected to do this completely on your own or without my help. That wouldn't be fair to you or to me. We've talked about this. You're the one who even said it's my wedding too."

"I know. And it is. I just feel overwhelmed, despite all the help I'm getting."

"I expect that's normal," Fred answered. "But you have to try to enjoy it. You'll regret it if you look back at this process and only remember what a bundle of nerves you were."

"I can't exactly help it, Fred," I sighed.

"I know...but just try," he whispered. "We're getting married. And you know what? At the end of the day, I don't give a damn about wedding favors or flowers, or-or any of it. All I care about is that you're there and I'm there and that we just get married."

I nodded. "You're right-I suppose that's all that matters in the end. I just want it to be as wonderful as Ginny and Harry's wedding, and George and Katie's too."

"It will be," Fred assured me, resting his palms against my cheeks and gently brushing his thumbs along my cheekbones. "I promise."

I nodded and took in a deep breath before letting it out.

Fred smiled and leaned in to kiss me again. "What do you say we head over to Ron and Hermione's, get started on their butterbeer stash, and just enjoy ourselves?"

I grinned. "I'd like that."

Fred pulled back and began tugging me from the room by the hand. "Then let's get out of here."

Ron and Hermione's house was lovely. It was a grey two story house with black shutters and a red door. According to Hermione, the door had been Ron's request-or more like insistence-but she'd come to actually quite like it, much to Ron's triumph.

Ron did admit that the interior decorating was all Hermione and that she surprisingly had a good eye for it.

"Why is it surprising?" I asked as Ron handed me, and then Fred, a butter beer.

"Ron has an insane knack for being surprised at absolutely anything I do," Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes slightly as she finished arranging a platter of cheese and crackers. Fred and I had been the first to arrive-much to my amazement. We were rarely the first to arrive anywhere. Usually because of Fred and usually because he had become too engrossed in a project and had lost track of time. Either that or he had misplaced one or both of his shoes.

"I just didn't know you knew anything about interior decorating," Ron told Hermione.

"I didn't know much until I did some research on the subject," Hermione said, glancing at the clock anxiously as she continued assembling the cheese platter.

"Let me help," I said quietly, stepping behind the counter beside her, setting my drink down and taking the box of crackers from Hermione. "You move on to something else."

Hermione smiled at me gratefully. "Thank you," she said, as Ron continued addressing Hermione's comment about researching.

"How many hours did you spend in the library doing said research?" He asked, sharing a knowing look with Fred, who smiled and snorted with laughter into his drink.

"It's not an uncommon thing to do, you know," I said in Hermione's defense, glancing up at the boys as I continued arranging crackers on the platter in front of me. "In fact, most people do some research and shopping around for furniture and things when they're buying a house. To see what they like, see what looks good..."

"You don't know how lovely it is to have someone back me up," Hermione sighed from the sink. "Thank you, Sophie."

I smiled over at her as Fred suddenly chimed in.

"Hermione's always been a bit of an obsessive researcher, though," he told me. "More so than most. Although, it certainly has its perks. She's brilliant." He looked at Ron as Hermione beamed. "And your house looks great, so I'd quit complaining if I were you."

"Who said I was complaining?" Ron asked.

"No one had to say anything," Fred answered. "We all stood here and listened to the actual complaining."

"I didn't complain," Ron insisted.

"Not outright," Fred said with a shrug. "But the rest of us can read between the lines."

Ron opened his mouth as if to irritably respond, but Hermione grabbed the cheese and cracker platter off of the counter and thrust it at him. "Go arrange this-nicely-on the living room table. You said you had all the decorations up?"

"They're up," Ron assured her. "And before you ask, yes, we have enough drinks and food for an army, I picked up the cake, and double checked it to make sure the baker didn't misspell any words or names."

"Good, good," Hermione said, nodding as she chewed on a thumbnail and stared aimlessly out the window, clearly mentally ticking off items on her to do list.

"You mean the cake really does say Happy First Anniversary, Harry and Ginny?" Fred asked with a sigh of disappointment as Ron brought the cheese and crackers into the next room. "I was really hoping it would say Hippy Fist Adversity, Henry and Jenny."

I nearly choked on my butterbeer as I laughed. I turned away and swiped at my chin to wipe drops of my drink off of it as Fred chuckled in amusement and took a sip of his own drink.

Hermione passed me a napkin as Ron re-entered the room.

"Maybe you were hoping it would say that," he told Fred, "but I would be murdered if there was a single mistake on the cake-as if I'd done it myself."

"Perhaps I'm just in the habit of always checking other peoples' work for mistakes," Hermione said loftily. "Considering you were always having me read over you History of Magic essays and I'd find them riddled with errors. In the events that I could even make out your nearly illegible penmanship, that is."

Ron's ears flushed red as Hermione and I smiled at each other and I stifled another laugh.

Just then, there was a knock at the door and Hermione jumped slightly and straightened, her hands instantly going to smooth her skirt. "Someone's here...Ron go get the door."

"I've got it, don't worry," he assured her, putting his hands on her upper arms and leaning in to give her a quick, reassuring kiss. "The party's going to be fine, everyone will have fun, and Harry and Ginny will be surprised. You always get nervous for nothing."

Hermione nodded and tilted her head towards the door. "The first thing to do would be to make sure our guests aren't standing outside for too long. Otherwise, they most definitely won't have any fun."

"I'm going, I'm going," Ron sighed, turning and heading for the door.

Ron was right. The party was great, everyone did have fun, and Harry and Ginny were very surprised. I could tell Hermione was proud that she had pulled it off. Usually, it was hard to surprise Ginny or keep a secret from her.

But I suppose she got back at us in her own way for succeeding in surprising her by surprising all of us in return. Towards the middle of the party, she and Harry announced that they were expecting a baby.

I felt my stomach drop and my chest tighten. What a terrible reflex reaction to news like that. I was happy for Ginny and Harry-of course I was happy. How could I not be? But it was beginning to get to the point where anything baby-related was enough to make me break out into a cold sweat. I felt pressured to work out how I was feeling and to do so quickly. Everyone else was having babies and the rest of our friends and family were always overjoyed at the news. I didn't want to be the odd one out and I didn't want to disappoint Fred or the rest of the family, but in random flashes of defiance, I would tell myself it was none of their business if Fred and I chose to have a child or not. We didn't have to do what everyone else did. But then I'd remind myself that Fred did want kids. Multiple. More than one. It was just me that was unsure. And what was even more confusing was just that. I was simply unsure. I wasn't even completely adamant about not having kids.

One moment I'd be overcome with the belief that there was no way I could handle motherhood, but in the next, I'd want nothing more than to have my own family. For instance, when Victoire would quickly toddle into my arms, giggling and practically tripping on her own feet. When I held Dominique and she'd wrap her entire fist around just one of my fingers. When she'd coo and smile in her sleep. I'd feel the fear melt away and be replaced with utter love and admiration.

Now, standing in Ron and Hermione's living room as Ginny made the announcement and everyone cried out in surprise and began congratulating the happy couple, I took in a deep breath through my nose. Get ahold of yourself, Sophie, I thought. Get your fucking shit together.

I gave both Ginny and Harry a hug and congratulated them on the news. And then I removed myself from the crowd of people surrounding them and peppering them with questions and advice on parenthood.

I slipped into the kitchen and began busying myself with cleaning up some of the dishes and leftover food that lay about the counter. I needed something to do and I figured Hermione would appreciate the help.

"Are you okay?"

I glanced up to see Fred leaning against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets and his hair tousled-most likely from when he and George had nearly tackled Harry in celebration and then tried to lift him onto their shoulders. It only came to an end when they almost fell into the living room bookshelf and Hermione and Ginny both yelled at them to stop.

"I'm fine," I murmured, snapping the lid closed on a plastic container I'd just filled with leftover potatoes from dinner.

"Your hands are shaking," Fred commented, staring at me with an unwavering expression.

"They're not," I argued, busying myself with throwing away some of the napkins and other paper goods that had been left out.

Fred pushed off of the wall and came to stand across the counter from me. He reached over and grabbed my hands-taking one of mine in each of his own and effectively stopping me from doing anything else.

"Sophie...stop."

I stared stonily down at our hands, now resting on the countertop, completely still.

"What happened back there?" He asked quietly.

"I don't know what you mean," I commented innocently.

"You don't?" Fred asked sarcastically. "Really, Soph? Cut the crap."

I glared up at him. "Fred, honestly-"

"Don't honestly me," he answered, letting go of my hands and standing up straight as he crossed his arms. He set his jaw and glared at me. "When Ginny announced she was pregnant, you went white as a sheet and nearly dropped your butterbeer onto the floor. What's going on? What kind of reaction was that? Are you not happy for them?"

"How dare you even say that!" I hissed furiously. "I'm thrilled for them!"

"Didn't seem that way."

I swallowed as fury began rising through my body, seeming to start from my toes and rise up through my stomach, into my chest and then my face, flushing my cheeks a bright red.

"My reaction had nothing to do with them and everything to do with me," I said in a low voice, filled with anger. It shook slightly when I spoke, which I hated. "And even then, I managed to pull myself together and genuinely congratulate them."

"And then you sulked away and came in here to clean. To busy yourself. Distract yourself from whatever it is you're too afraid to face. I'm guessing it's the same thing you were upset about in February when Fleur had her baby?"

"We aren't going to discuss this here, Fred," I said, jerking my chin towards the living room door where the party was still going on.

"Then where-and when-are we going to talk about it?" Fred asked, his voice rising slightly. "You've been avoiding the subject for three months!"

"Fred, shh!" I glanced anxiously towards the living room again.

"Don't shush me," Fred snapped.

"We are at a party celebrating Harry and Ginny's anniversary and now their pregnancy. Having this discussion here is not appropriate."

"But it was appropriate for you to nearly spill your drink onto Ron and Hermione's couch?"

"It's less uncomfortable than arguing in the middle of the party," I said briskly. "Besides, no one noticed-except you apparently-and, as I said, I pulled myself together."

"For now," Fred answered snidely. "Until the next time someone says the words pregnant or baby."

I opened my mouth to angrily respond, but stopped short and quickly returned to my cleanup when Hermione appeared in the doorway.

"Oh-Sophie, you didn't have to do any cleanup. You're a guest and I could have-what's going on?" She stopped short and looked between me and Fred, clearly picking up on the tension in the room as well as Fred's deep frown.

"Nothing," I said, forcing a quick smile as I looked up at her. "We're fine."

"Speak for yourself," Fred muttered.

I glared at him before turning back to Hermione, who was looking bewildered. "We just had a disagreement. Nothing to worry about."

"Okay," Hermione said slowly. She looked like she wanted to press us for more information, but luckily, she didn't.

Fred simply scoffed and ran a hand through his hair before sending me one more frustrated look and leaving the room.

"Are you sure everything's alright?" Hermione asked, charming the remainder of the dirty dishes into the sink and turning to me with her hands on her hips.

I shook my head. "It's just some personal stuff, Hermione, that's all. Personal stuff that I haven't fully been able to talk to Fred about yet."

"Okay," Hermione said gently. "Well, I'm here if you need anything."

"Thanks," I answered, sending her a smile.

Later that night, Fred rounded on me the moment we returned to the flat. "Tell me what's going on," he demanded, crossing his arms and giving me a hard stare. "Now."

I stared back at him, unsure of quite what to say or how to say it without upsetting him. "I just-I'm not sure if-"

"You don't want kids anymore, is that it?" Fred asked, almost coldly. Annoyance was shining through in every syllable.

I swallowed. "I wasn't sure if I ever wanted them. We've had a conversation like this before."

"Yeah, because you said you'd never had an opportunity to think about your future. And then you said that when you thought about it, you could see a future with me and that you could see us starting a family."

"I can," I whispered. "Believe me, I can see it. And I want it. But-"

"But what?" Fred asked, his tone borderline desperate, begging for me to give him a decent answer. "Why do I get the feeling that your recent behavior is much deeper than what we talked about before?"

"Becoming a mother just scares the shit out of me, Fred," I explained. "Don't get me wrong-the rest of your family having children of their own is exciting and really wonderful, and I adore Victoire and Dominique, but...labor is not easy, and neither is raising a child. And-and...this sounds so silly, but I haven't had good experiences with pain, Fred."

"Has anyone?" Fred asked with a scoff. "I know my dislocated hip from the battle at Hogwarts was really pleasant to deal with. It was just a tickle, really."

"Don't mock me, Fred Weasley," I fumed. "You know, people say that the pain of labor is all worth it once you get to meet your baby," I went on. "But I've never felt that kind of pain before. I've never gone through something so utterly painful and had the result be something so utterly beautiful. I guess it's something I can't quite work out in my head. To me, pain always results in something bad. It always comes from something bad. And the whole process is just going to be so easy for you."

"Woah, woah, woah," Fred said, holding up a hand. "Easy? Who said anything about easy?"

"You said it yourself on the day Dominique was born! You said you were glad you'd never have to go through it. You laughed about it. It made me feel like crap. But you were right-you don't have to go through it. So it's so easy for you to jump right in to starting a family because it doesn't require much for you to do. You're not going to carry an entire baby for nine months. You're not going to have to deliver the baby. You're not going to have to go through any of that pain."

"There's nothing I can do about that, Soph," Fred said with a bitter laugh. "Yes, I am grateful I don't have to go through it because it does look brutal. And I don't want you to be in that sort of pain, either, but what would you like me to do? And where are you getting the idea that this will be easy? I'm still planning to raise our kids with you. Or do you still think I'm going to leave, just like your parents?"

"You asshole," I spat, grabbing a pillow off of the couch and flinging it at him.

"Oi!" He cried, ducking and throwing his arms up to shield his face.

"I meant the whole delivery process!" I cried. "And the decision to even have kids is easy for you. That's what I meant and you know it. Besides, do you think I'm not also worried that I'll be the one to end up like my parents?" My voice cracked on the last few words as I tried to hold back tears. "That I'll be a disappointment to my own child?"

"Unless you're planning on walking out on them, I don't think you have to worry," Fred shot back.

I reached for another pillow on the couch and flung that one at him too.

"Bloody hell," Fred cried, managing to catch the pillow this time before tossing it to the ground. "Would you stop throwing shit at me?"

"Maybe if you'd stop being an asshole!" I yelled.

"I'm the asshole?" Fred asked. "You won't even talk to me about what you're feeling. You avoid it and me and that's not fair. We're supposed to be getting married, Sophie! I want you to come to me about anything, but you won't talk to me about something that's rather important for two engaged people to discuss, don't you think? Here I am, thinking you and I are going to start a family together, and you don't even want it!"

"It's not that I don't want a family with you," I said. "I told you that I do. I just-I just-" I broke off and let out a sigh of frustration.

"Spit it out, why don't you?" Fred taunted.

I lunged for one of the fallen couch pillows, but Fred got there first and pulled it out of my reach.

"I'm confused, Fred!" I yelled, tears falling down my cheeks at this point. "I know how much you want a family and I don't want to disappoint you-"

"Don't do this solely for me," Fred interrupted. "You said yourself that it wouldn't be fair to the baby if you did that."

"That's part of my hesitation!" I cried with a bitter laugh. "I keep going back and forth in my own head about this. I want it, Fred, I do. It's getting there that's the problem. And then knowing that I'll be a good mother."

"How could you not be?" Fred asked earnestly.

I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes and let out a sob. "Because I'm still so fucked up, Fred. And I'm afraid I always will be."

"And you think I'm not?" Fred asked. "Maybe I should go around worrying about how bad of a father I'll be! What would you say to that? What if I perpetually worried about accidentally killing my kid the way I killed Percy?"

"You didn't-"

"Exactly. But do you see how utterly foolish you sound?"

"Don't you dare talk down to me like that! The way I'm feeling isn't foolish."

"Sounds like it from where I'm standing," Fred scoffed. "It's so obvious to me that you'd be a wonderful mother because of what you went through, yes, but also because of the kind of person you are. How can you not see that? And you're worried about disappointing me by telling me you're hesitant about starting a family, but you didn't stop to think how I'd feel about you refusing to talk to me about it? That's what hurt the most, Soph! That's what I'm the most angry about. Not your feelings about kids, but the fact that you don't want to come to me to talk about it! Like I said, we're supposed to be getting married and I was under the impression we would have kids one day. If this is how you're going to be, then what the hell are we getting married for?"

I looked up at him, my mouth agape. I blinked and took a step backwards. "So-what, you're saying you're only marrying me because you want children?"

"What? No!" Fred exclaimed, his eyes going wide. I could tell he was mentally backtracking on what he'd said. He knew it had come out wrong and it showed.

"You asked what we're doing this for if-"

"I meant if you can't talk to me. Like an adult. Like a partner. Like a spouse. If you can't be honest with me. You say I have communication problems, but lately, it's been all you."

I stared at him for a moment before scoffing and turning away. He was right, but I was too angry to admit it at the moment. "What good would it do?" I asked. "You're a shit listener and all you've been saying now are the wrong things."

"Because this hasn't been a discussion, it's been an argument."

"Not a good enough excuse," I retaliated, locating my bag where I'd tossed it on the couch and scooping it up again.

"Where are you going?" Fred snapped as I headed for the door.

"Away from you." My tone was the cold and even, the steadiest it had been for a while.

Fred scoffed. "It's always the same old shit with you, isn't it?" he asked bitterly. "You're afraid of doing things or having things you actually want and then you whine about how screwed up you are! Over and over and over! It's bloody exhausting!"

I recoiled a bit at his words before scowling. Fine. He wanted to take swings at me, I was going to swing back.

"Well, it's the same old shit with you too!" I said, taking a step back towards him. "You talk down to me and get angry with me only to come crawling back with an apology when you realize what a jerk you've been! And then the next time, you say the same hurtful things all over again!"

"Because you push my buttons all over again!" Fred retaliated.

"Again, not a good enough excuse," I fired back. "I can't help the way I am any more than you can. And you act like you're the epitome of patient and understanding, but then you get frustrated when you're not getting what you want-whether it be children or even sex-and then you take it out on me! Like a toddler throwing a tantrum. How can you have a child when you are one?"

"You're the one about to walk out the door right now! And of course I get frustrated! I try not to, but damnit, you're just so bloody...frustrating sometimes!"

"Oh, how utterly eloquent you are," I said with a roll of my eyes.

Fred sneered at me. "Piss off, Sophie. Seriously."

"Fuck you, Fred." I turned and stormed back towards the door again.

"Sure-just walk away instead of trying to talk this out. Just make the problem worse."

"I can't talk to you right now!" I screamed, something inside of me snapping as I whirled around and took a few angry steps towards Fred. He actually had the decency to look taken aback for a second. "That's the point. I can't even look at you right now!"

"So you're leaving instead," Fred snorted. "Congratulations, your fear became a reality-you really are just like your parents."

I couldn't tell what my face looked like, but I could feel my expression fall from one of anger to a shocked kind of hurt as tears welled up in my eyes again.

"Sophie...wait," Fred said with a heavy sigh, his own face falling and his shoulders sagging. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"This is exactly why I can't talk to you when you're angry or emotional," I whispered, swiping at my nose. "This is exactly what I meant. You say things like that purely out of anger and then realize what you've said and try to take it back. Instead of just, you know, not saying it."

"I'm sorry. It just came out," Fred whispered, taking a step closer to me.

I took a step away and shook my head. "To be honest, I really don't care right now. And I really don't want to talk to you or be around you right now either."

And then I turned for the door, letting myself out and going down the stairs with tears brimming in my eyes.