For the first morning in what seemed like forever, I wasn't in pain when I woke up. I slowly moved my arms under the blankets to test the observation, the usual burn in my biceps there but nowhere near as severe as I had been used to. Thank god. And I was back in my own bed.

"Morning." Garrett caught my hand, guiding it to the top of the covers to hold it against his abdomen. "How are you feeling?"

I tried to squeeze his fingers - the vague memory I had of him waking me at 4am for painkillers can't have been inaccurate. "Comfy." Warm for the first time in weeks with his body heat next to me.

"Good." He looked exhausted already. His arm automatically wrapped around my shoulders as I shuffled into his side.

"Are you alright?" My forearm grazed his skin where his shirt had ridden up as I rolled over to hug him, resting my chin against his shoulder to watch his face.

Cupping my cheek, he guided my lips to his. "Just sleepy; it's early." Lying in bed for the rest of the morning was definitely appealing; the last few days had really taken it out of both of us. "You look a little better. Compared to yesterday, anyway."

"I feel better. So much better." Just waking up in soft sheets, without someone hovering over me felt like a luxury. I kissed him again, relaxing as he trailed his hand down my spine to nudge my hips closer to his. I knew I needed to wake up, to take the opportunity while I didn't feel so awful to catch up on the endless pile of work I'd had to ignore for the best part of a week, and couldn't bring myself to relax once I thought about it.

My fidgeting had disturbed him. He shuffled onto his side to face me, draping his arm over my torso to hold me in place. "Go back to sleep. It's barely 6am."

I nodded but wasn't sure I'd be able to. Instead, I nudged my knees between his, trying to acclimatise to being in his arms. Garrett's breathing eventually evened out again as he fell asleep, his posture relaxing. I tried to copy, to melt back into the bedding, but I just couldn't. My attempt to wiggle out of his arms without waking him was entirely unsuccessful.

"Where are you going?" he mumbled, his words slurring together as his forearms tightened around my waist.

"To the bathroom?"

One hand remained firmly knotted in my sweatshirt as he started to let me go, keeping me on the bed with his arm extended. "Are you coming back, or getting up?"

"I'll come back," I promised reluctantly.

"'Kay," he mumbled. The hand retreated, finally letting me stand. The sheets rustled as he shuffled up the mattress to lean against the headboard, scrubbing his hands roughly over his face. Waiting for me, apparently. Fine.

Just being able to close the door was a relief. It hadn't occurred to me that he was keeping tabs on the time I had alone until I took too long, brushing my teeth without asking and earning myself a knock on the door as five minutes rolled into ten.

"You alright?" he asked through the wood.

"Yeah," I told him around my toothbrush. The intrusion I expected never came - the door stayed shut. I finally risked a glance at myself in the mirror, trying to acclimatise to the intrusion of the feeding tube in my appearance. Surely it wouldn't hurt that badly to rip it out - it wasn't stitched to anything inside of me, only taped to my cheek. Might have been worth it if Garrett wouldn't immediately have lost his mind.

He'd returned to bed by the time I went out to face him, perched on the edge of the mattress, still only half awake. "Are we up now?" he asked tiredly.

"Uh, I am, I guess, but you don't have to be." I tugged my fingers through my hair a couple of time, eventually concluding that it needed to be cut before I could do anything with it.

His eyes followed my hands. "I kind of do, baby, I've got to keep an eye on you."

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Yeah." He couldn't stifle a yawn.

"Are you sure? Because it doesn't seem like it." My mild annoyance faded as my stomach twinged a little. I fought not to visibly wince with all of his attention trained on me.

"I did, Carlisle, I just…it's been a long week." He stretched his arms above his head, arching out his spine before lifting himself to his feet. "Come, let's make breakfast, then."

I waited until he passed me before following him down the hallway. Breakfast wasn't appealing. Not at all. But maybe time with him was. "Did I keep you up last night?"

"I kept myself up; you were out like a light."

The realisation hit me like a fucking freight train. "You were awake because you don't think you can trust me."

"Let's not get into this right now," he pleaded. "Please."

"It's just an observation, Garrett; I'm not trying to start an argument." God knows, I didn't have the ability to have that conversation with him without crying; I immediately dropped the subject as my insides knotted.

He'd caught my hesitation. "Did you…was it better for you, being here last night?"

I nodded and tried to force the lump out of my throat. "Lots better."

"You're not feeling too ill?" he pressed.

"I'm good, Gar."

His forced smile faded a little as we stepped into the kitchen together, his lips pressing to my forehead and his hand finding mine. "Please tell me if you aren't coping."

Again, I just nodded. The prospect of eating was making my head spin now that it was seemingly inevitable. I dropped myself down at that table next to my laptop, turning the device around to face me and ignoring the way the little rubbed feet juddered on the tabletop as I dragged it. The brightness of the screen immediately made my head throb as the starting logo of the computer flashed in front of me.

Garrett pulled my attention away from it. "Do you want to eat solids this morning, or are you sticking to the supplement for now?" He was already predicting my answer, the fridge open so he could grab one of the bottles from the bottom shelf, the medical labels with my name printed across them staring at us.

I hadn't even realised that he'd had the forethought to source any of it. The thoughtful gesture still wasn't entirely welcome. "Gar, it's gonna make me puke."

The fridge slammed shut as he turned around to face me, his frustration carefully masked. He folded his arms, leaning forward against the bench between us with a heavy sigh. "Well, it's either that, or one of us has to put the formula down your tube." That stressed him out. He paled further, forcing a hard swallow while he tried to pretend that it was still a viable option. We stared at each other, him silently willing me not to be an asshole about it while I desperately wanted him to cave and forget the whole thing.

"I guess I'll drink," I mumbled eventually. Even if it came back up, it was better than forcing him into that position.

He ducked his head against the countertop to hide his relief, his hands knotting in his hair. "Alistair is going to stay with you while I'm at work," he admitted softly. Pushing himself upright again, he returned to the fridge to pass me one of the little bottles. "Is it better out of a cup, or-"

I groaned and slid down further into my seat. "I really don't want Al here for that long. I'll be good while you're gone; it's only a couple of hours and I don't have the energy to do anything."

"Even without your, uh, track record, it isn't safe for you to be on your own; you've been passing out so much, and you're still really weak - you can't be here alone. Even if you just lie in bed and he stays out here, someone needs to be in the house with you, just in case." He was right, unfortunately. It still made my cheeks sting with heat.

"Right."

"In a cup?" he tried again.

I nodded. Sipping it from a glass definitely felt more normal than trying to force it through one of the tiny straws that came glued to the cartons. I watched him pour the thickened liquid into the cup, trying to gulp away the tightness in my throat and fighting hyperventilation. "Can we have breakfast together? Eat with me?" I asked dumbly.

He kissed my temple as he set it in front of me. "It's not going to make you feel ill?"

"No." It was a lie, but sitting here alone was worse.

"Alright." The tension wouldn't drop from his shoulders as he waited for the kettle to boil, not relieved by his first mouthful of coffee or the barely-buttered toast he tried to force down.

"We should go to the supermarket." I mimicked his movements, lifting the glass to my lips each time he had another swallow of the black liquid. I wondered when he'd stopped taking milk and sugar.

Smirking, he playfully rolled his eyes. "There's no way in hell you're surviving a grocery store, baby," he teased. "Whatever you want, I'll pick it up on the way home from work."

"No, I mean…you need more than bread for breakfast; you work an active job, Garrett."

His smile faded a little. "We've got food, Carlisle, I'm just tired." He hadn't meant to tell me that - he immediately looked guilty, his eyes dropping to the grain of the tabletop. "I'm fine. I'm only working a few hours anyway."

"I can stand long enough to cook something easy." It was only because of him that I hadn't woken up in agony this morning, after all.

"You aren't doing anything of the sort."

"But you aren't going to be able to eat at work, either; you aren't going to feel well." I was a hypocrite. I'd had less than half of my drink, and I wasn't sure I could take anymore.

"I'm okay, really. I'll cook dinner when I get home."

"Alistair and I could-"

"Absolutely not, you need to go back to bed. And don't let Al talk you into doing anything."

I dropped it, watching him finish his toast and faking another sip. Although the nausea was less than it had been earlier, it was growing again, tensing in the pit of my stomach. I tried to look at my screen again, pulling my knee up to press my shin into the edge of the tabletop, jammed between my body and the wood. The urge to gag almost got the better of me as I clicked on the Adobe icon, photoshop slowly loading.

"You've got to swallow it for it to go in."

My head snapped up, heat flushing up my neck as our eyes met. "I can't - I'm gonna be sick," I pleaded with him without wanting to.

He was quiet, not trying to shove it down my throat like I expected him to. "I'll put it back in the fridge - you can try again later?" He waited until I'd nodded my consent before collecting the cup, looping cling film over the top before he put it away.

My heart was pounding so hard that I was scared he'd hear it. "I guess."

"The nurse said 'little and often'; don't worry," he tried to soothe. Upon seeing that it wasn't helping, he added: "I have the syringes, if you need to have it through the tube. I can show you how to do it if you prefer it that way."

I couldn't get the stiffness out of my shoulders.

He sighed, shifted closer, hesitated before he leaned down to kiss me. "I have to get ready for work. You okay?"

"Y-yeah. I'm good." I waited until he'd turned to head to the bathroom before dropping my head to the tabletop, forcing air into my lungs to fight off the cold sweat the sickness had brought on. It didn't help. Not enough. A second later I found myself lurching for the sink, the squeezing in my middle almost forcing what little I'd accomplished up my throat. My face was hot and my eyes stung, but I held it down, somehow.

Eventually the feeling eased. My hands shook as I sat back down, my mouth still welling with saliva. The episode was over by the time my boyfriend came back, uniform on and keys in hand. I was almost dumb enough to think he was about to leave me home alone until the front door opened.

They greeted each other tightly, Garrett thanking him for coming and Alistair grumbling that he didn't have anything better to do. It was lovely to know that my burden extended outside of my relationship.

I didn't want Gar to go. The panic of him leaving hit in a rush. It was all I could do to stay in my seat and keep from begging him to stay. I knew that he'd give in to me if I asked. "Have a good day at work," I whispered to him instead, linking my arms around his shoulders as he leaned over me to hug me goodbye.

He looked confused as he pulled back, needing to tug free of my hold on him until I realised what I was doing.

"He'll barely be gone six hours, Carlisle, come on," Alistair teased, exchanging a look with my boyfriend.

I swallowed, embarrassingly fighting tears, digging my fingertips into the edge of the table to keep myself from grabbing onto him, biting my lip to keep a stupidly desperate plea from coming out.

"You sure you're alright?" Gar murmured.

I gave him another wordless nod.

.

.

I lasted until the front door was closed behind him before coming apart. I hadn't realised that the shaking had started again until Al was hovering in front of me, telling me to put my head between my knees, calmly panicking. "I'm fine- I'm okay," I complained back, batting his hands off of me.

He looked unconvinced. "Bullshit."

"I am, I'm just- I love him, a-and I'm stupid," I mumbled. Still thankfully no tears.

He didn't want to hear that. He looked helplessly back at the closed front door, sighing through his teeth. "He had an affair, Carlisle."

"I know."

"With a woman who's harassing you," he continued flatly.

"I know."

"That's ridiculous."

"I know."

Sighing heavily, he sunk into the seat across from me. "Have things been…better between you two?" he asked eventually.

I sniffed, set on not digging myself any further into a hole, not replying until I had the wad of emotion in my chest under control. "I think so."

He scoffed. "Two days ago you were crying about him ignoring you. You'd just finished telling me that you felt like he was abandoning you."

My heart was pounding in my ears again and I hid my face in my hands as an excuse not to look at him. That wasn't the word I'd used. "And then he let me come home; I don't feel like that anymore."

Alistair groaned. "You're an idiot."

"I know."

He dropped it, finally.

I stood up to get away from him - too quickly, almost blacking out and only just suppressing the nausea again. My stomach tensed, disagreeing with breakfast, and I wondered if it was going to be like this every time I ate from now on.

"Garrett said you only got a few mouthfuls down; don't bring it back up," he warned, his eyes trained on my face. He got up, hurrying to get a cup of water and pass it to me, encouraging me to take a sip.

I tried, reaching to take it from him, forcing down a mouthful before anything rushed up. His hand caught my jacket at the small of my back, ushering me toward the couch.

"Is it better if you lie down?"

"Better if I don't move," I corrected through clenched teeth. My hand over my lips didn't suppress the feeling. "God, I'm like this forever-"

"You won't be." His tone was soothing, as was the way he automatically wrapped his arm around me as he sat at my side. "It'll be alright. If it doesn't work out here, then maybe if you come to Georgia-"

"Alistair," I complained, more loudly than I should have, Fox whining at the sound of my voice. He huffed and we fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence. The TV didn't help when I switched it on.

It was almost half an hour before he dared to speak again. "Why him?" he asked softly. His hand shifted up my arm, squeezing me into him until I caught the meaning of his words.

"Because I don't feel that way about you, Al; we can't be together." I swallowed thickly, my throat suddenly dry as I willed the hours to pass and Garrett to come back.

"We lived together for over a year, Carlisle. If something serious was going to happen between us, it would have," he grumbled bitterly. "I know that ship has long sailed." He trailed off for so long he got my hopes up that we were just going to watch the stupid movie on the screen. "Did you ever feel that way about me?"

"You never gave me that chance; you made it very clear that anything between us was just fun when we lived together - you didn't change your mind until I was already with Garrett," I reminded him. It had been a painful six months when we'd first moved in together; it was in the first week that he kissed me, within the first month that I'd stupidly convinced myself I was in love with the only person who'd been kind to me since I arrived in the country, even if there were constantly men and women coming and going between the nights we spent in each other's beds.

He huffed. "You were the most emotionally unavailable person I'd ever met, Carlisle. You think I didn't like you?"

"You made quite the show of bringing people home, Alistair, what'd you want me to think? You pushed me away, and I got over it."

His eyes were fixed on the TV, scowling at the show. "I didn't want to get hurt," he finally admitted.

"I didn't either."

"You're letting Garrett walk all over you."

"We were engaged, Alistair; it's a little deeper than just sex," I snapped. As if that's all my relationship with Al had been, as if I wasn't sleeping with him to win his affection.

Alistair was quiet for a long time, his hand eventually finding mine, linking our fingers together. "You know, if you move to Georgia, we don't have to be together. We can just be roommates again." He always talked about it like that - like it was actually an option.

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "We both know we can't just be roommates, Al. That's never worked for us before."

A chuckle rumbled out of his chest. "Friends with benefits, then. Polygamy works for some people."

"I'm not getting back into that position with you." I elbowed him lightly in the ribs, relieved that he was joking with me again, back off that horrible, heavy subject. I could breathe a little better.

"Garrett might be into it?"

"Garrett is part of your Georgia-flatmate fantasy now?" I was trying to tease, trying to pretend that it didn't cause a sharp pain under my rib cage.

He grinned back at me and squared his shoulders. "He's not bad looking."

"I hope you two have a happy future together," I grumbled. Thankfully, he abandoned the idea. It wasn't that it didn't appeal to me, moving cities where Caius and Heidi couldn't worry us anymore, somewhere cheaper where I wouldn't have to work as much and Gar could get a job he enjoyed. But Alistair's suggestion of the two of them together was about to make me physically ill - I couldn't bare to think about my boyfriend with anyone else after the last few months. Especially Al. I wasn't even sure who'd break who's heart. God, I needed to stop before I gave myself a stroke. "How'd you get off work for so long?" I asked as a distraction.

"I'm not working at the moment," he mumbled.

"You didn't tell me that, Al, what happened?" My heart sank and I was instantly guilty, sorry for not noticing sooner. My hand found his again, squeezing. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Jesus, Carlisle, I didn't tell you because you were in the damn hospital." He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, glancing over to meet my eyes as I silently panicked that I'd ruined his career - he'd had to take time off for me too. "I quit not long after I moved in with my mother; things weren't great after everything with Randal, and I have some savings…I just needed some time out. It's been nice, actually."

I blew out the breath I hadn't realised I was holding. "You're happy, though?"

"Happier, yeah." He nudged me with his shoulder. "I'd be happier again if you'd move down there too."

It was easier not to acknowledge that statement. "How's Edward?"

The couch shook with his quiet chuckle. "He'll be pleased when I'm out of his house. I saw Emmett and Jasper last night too; we didn't think you'd survive the trip across town, let alone the alcohol."

"Mmm. I'm surprised they're still speaking to me; they're all pissed I took Gar back," I admitted.

"I'm pissed you took him back so easily," he muttered. The hangover can't have helped his petulance.

"He's-"

"Don't you dare say he's 'doing his best' again."

.

.

Six hours was an eternity. I got in an hour of screen time before photoshop drove in the throbbing in my forehead, Alistair obediently setting out the medication I was allowed to take and both of us hoping it stayed down. It didn't help. Not really. He fell asleep on the sofa soon after anyway.

My boss called me after lunch. I'd only managed another half cup of the supplement before my abdomen locked and I was choking on it. The poor guy was still trying to talk deadlines with me when it was suddenly too much. I was sure the phone didn't hit the ground fast enough to spare him the full effect of what was happening. Worse, he was still uncomfortably there after I'd rinsed my mouth, stammering a few seconds before continuing right where he'd left off.

I was falling behind again. That wasn't unexpected - I hadn't been able to do anything for the best part of a week. He was taking some of the projects away from me, giving them to a new hire. "I don't want to short-change you, Carlisle, but we need to meet our client's needs. The team has agreed it may be more beneficial for you to be proofing instead. At least until you're able to, uh, be more consistent." Less photoshop - I could turn the brightness of my screen down. I nodded before realising I was an idiot and on a phone call.

"Y-yeah, I can do that." Anything to get him off the phone. I stumbled back to the couch, my knees wobbling under me until I fell back on the cushions, folding my arm back over my face. The furniture shook as I fell on it, Al's hand wandering to grasp my thigh, eyeing the phone as I forced myself to hold it to my ear, stars floating through my vision.

"You alright, gorgeous?" he mock-whispered, clearly overheard.

I glared at him as he grinned. "Go back to your nap." By that point, I doubted my boss would ever speak to me again. The man got off the phone as quickly as he could.

Alistair pushed himself up in his seat to look at me. "Really, are you alright?"

"Yep." I couldn't bring myself to explain the last half hour to him.

He huffed and settled back again.

I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped he thought I'd fallen asleep the next time he glanced over. I counted three whole minutes before his soft snores resumed.

.

.

The padlock on one of our higher cupboards didn't make sense to me until I couldn't find any of our sharps. I stretched on my toes to give it a good tug, but it refused to budge. Great. Sure. My arms ached from my stupid attempt anyway. It didn't leave many options for dinner. Especially not when I was struggling to stand after five whole minutes.

He'd left me a vegetable peeler and a spatula. I could pin my lack of cooking options on him, but I couldn't blame him for burning the eggs or letting the potatoes boil over on the stove. This whole thing had been dumb on my behalf - I need to sit down every few minutes to keep from fainting, barely resisting the urge to gag as the smell of the food filled the room.

"Who's babysitting who here?" Garrett sounded vaguely pissed. The front door banged shut behind him loud enough to shock Alistair awake, the way he threw himself off the couch almost comical if I hadn't been sure he was about to be ripped apart.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Alistair groaned when he saw me. Still half asleep, he just stared at the two of us.

I didn't care that I was about to be scolded - I just wanted Gar to hug me.

He did, seizing the utensil in my hand as he wrapped his arms around me. "Would I be too optimistic if I hoped that you were hungry?" he asked, his lips at my ear.

I nodded, suddenly needing to crumble and make him pick up the pieces when he'd barely stepped in the door. Instead, I buried my face in his chest and tried to breathe.

"Carlisle?" he probed carefully.

I was an asshole. That was all it took. "My boss called me, but I was sick while I was on the phone with me, and then- everything is gone from the cupboards and I wanted to make dinner for you but it hurts and I'm getting lightheaded and I'm burning everything-" I kept rambling to him, letting him nudge me back until my hips brushed the bench. It wasn't until I looked up at him that I saw him starting to worry.

"Do you need a doctor?" he asked quickly.

I shook my head. "I-I'm sorry - you've been at work, and now you have to deal with me, a-and-"

He kissed me to shut me up, his arms around my waist as he lifted me enough to slide back onto the bench. "You don't need to worry about all this domestic stuff while you're ill. You're two steps out of the hospital, baby."

"You didn't really eat this morning."

"It's fine, Carlisle," he soothed. "I'll have something in a bit." One hand still wrapped in mine, he used the other to pull the vegetables off the element, kissing my temple once the boiling calmed. "You're in trouble, though," he grumbled as Al crept closer.

Alistair started to apologise, first to Gar and then to me, before deciding it was a lost cause. Not willing to stand there and be berated, he uncomfortably hugged both of us and slid out the door before Garrett could say anymore about it.

"It's not his fault," I started.

"No comment," he muttered under his breath.

"Gar…"

He just sighed heavily, starting to pull what was left from my open drink from the fridge to hand over.

.

.

The envelope under the door caught my attention. I slid down off the bench to pick it up, staring down at it for a few seconds before collecting it. Scrawled across in loopy handwriting was my name. I knew without looking who the culprit was.

I was fairly sure that the images were only copies of what Garrett had shown me at the hospital. From the same night, at least. Seeing her hands on him, her lips on his body made me dizzy, how he kissed her back making my stomach ache. A sucker for punishment, I shuffled through them, feeling like I was doing something wrong and unable to keep the heat from my face as the pictures became more explicit.

I didn't want to tell him. He didn't need to feel unsafe in his own home, didn't deserve to suffer the embarrassment of having the images where he didn't consent again. Instead, I shoved them deep into my sweatshirt pocket, using the bathroom as an excuse to bury them in on of my draws; we'd need them if we had to file a police report, and I was sure that was where this was going, but I wasn't convinced Gar needed to know about them unless it came to that.

He looked worried when I came back and my stomach sunk through the floor. "Everything alright?" he asked softly.

"Uh, yeah?" I let him hug me, confused at how tightly he drew me against his chest. He must have seen it, unless something else had happened. "Why?"

He sighed, ducking his head against my shoulder. "I know you hate me asking all the time, but you bolted out of here as white as a sheet, and I thought you were…" He trailed off, but the ending of that sentence didn't matter - it was never good.

"I'm fine, Gar," I promised.

"Good." He softly kissed the top of my head. "I love you."

I tried to repress the stab of guilt that him comforting me brought on. Instead, I hid my face in his shirt. "I love you too." It was finally starting to feel like it was true, like I did love him again, like he maybe really did love me back.

He squeezed me, taking my weight off my feet again for a moment. "Are you okay for me to finish dinner, since you've gotten this far?"

"Yep." It earned me a strange look as he set me back. I caught his wrist and turned to break his view of me, tugging him back into the kitchen as a distraction. It was starting to make me feel sick, making my knees weak under me, tightening my throat until I was about to word-vomit what had happened all over him and ruin dinner. That stupid envelope with those stupid photos and that stupid woman and her stupid invasive fucking- "Is Kate really changing schools? Carmen said that they were- she was looking for a new school? Did they- have they found one yet? Or is she back in the same class? Because it's been like a week since her play and if they pulled her out then, she's missing a lot of school, and-" This was so much worse than just word-vomit - verbal diarrhea. For once, I wished I would pass out. My face was burning, and I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

Now he was really frowning at me. "Are you sure you're alright?" His hand came to hover near my face, awkwardly coming to rest against my neck as his thumb brushed over my cheek.

"Heidi sent those pictures again," I blurted out. God knows how he'd managed to hide an affair from me for months - I couldn't hold in a secrete about that woman for a whole five minutes.

Just as I feared, the blood drained from his face, his thumb freezing against my skin. "T-the same ones that she…"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"You're sure that they're the same ones? It's not a different set?" he asked quickly.

"Uh, I mean think so, but um- h-how many times were there?" God, I hoped he wouldn't answer that - I wasn't a jealous person, but she was making me insane. "I think they were the same, Gar, but I don't really want to look at you with her," I corrected quickly. It was making me nauseous. It looked like he was too.

"But where are…why did you hide it? That happened just now, when you disappeared before?" he asked slowly.

I nodded guiltily, blushing, stammering some more. "I didn't want you to get upset - you've been looking after me, a-and-"

He cut me off, hugging me tightly against my chest, crushing the air out of my lungs before pulling back enough to kiss me firmly. "You don't need to protect me from my own affair, Carlisle," he said sadly, sounding broken as he mumbled.

"Yeah, but you're- it was stupid," I admitted.

"Are you…it didn't make you…upset, seeing that?" he asked carefully.

"I mean…yeah…but…what else was I supposed to do?" I was sure he was going to be more upset about it than I was - he was the one that had to live with the consequences. "I didn't want you to freak out."

He swallowed tightly. "I'm not freaking out. Am I?"

I obediently shook my head, not about to tell him I could feel his heart pounding through the thin fabric of his shirt while he held me so close.

It seemed to help - he did actually manage to calm down a little, his frantic breaths regulating. "I'm not sure what her end game is - it isn't like we haven't seen each other naked. It's not exactly embarrassing having my boyfriend receive my nudes, right?" Still made him blush though. It'd be cute if it hadn't been over this.

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. She wasn't that stupid. The woman had an education degree. It wasn't unlikely that she would escalate. "I guess. Are you alright?" I ran my hand down his sternum, rubbing lightly through his shirt, wanting to soothe him but not knowing how.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I'm good," he sighed. "Sorry, baby. I'm sorry you have to put up with this."

"'s okay." Stretching up on my toes, I fitted my lips to his again. If anything, it was a nice distraction from everything wrong with my body, even if it was the object of the affair that essentially broke up my soon-to-be-marriage. I could think clearly about that. Outwardly, at least. I knew he would jump down my throat if I told him how many hours - hours - I'd put into researching that woman.

It hadn't been difficult to find her last name. It was only fair, she knew mine, knew where I worked, what was wrong with me. It was listed on the school's website, but only her married name. I found her maiden name through three layers of facebook searches - her friends had tagged her in some terrible highschool photos. From there, I'd gone through every inch of her social media, everything she'd been tagged in, the family members young enough to use the internet. None of it Caius related. I was fucking unhinged and paranoid - not that I wasn't convinced she was poisoning me. Everything had been so much better since I'd come home. I didn't even want to bring it up to Garrett.

"Will you watch a movie with me tonight?" he asked hopefully.

"That sounds good, Garrett."

He shifted his weight, fidgeting with my shirt against the small of my back as he built up to his next question. "I don't expect forgiveness, but are you sure that you…can love me?" The question trailed off, nervous, insecure.

"I do love you, Gar." It finally wasn't a lie.