I come back to the table and . . . something’s wrong.

Luke’s parents look extremely uncomfortable, like they’re itching to leave, and he’s staring ahead into the middle distance, his jaw clenched.

“Sorry about that,” I say, my voice weak. “I’ve been feeling a little off-color recently.”

“Oh, really?” Luke asks, sarcasm dripping from his words like poison. “I wonder why that is?”

I stare at him. What’s going on? I’ve never heard him speak like this. He’s normally so unruffled and straightforward.

His dad coughs and looks distinctly embarrassed. Everyone picks at their starters and nobody seems to want to meet my eye.

Have I committed some sort of faux pas? Is my dress riding up or something? What the hell’s going on?

I’m about to just come out and ask when Luke’s mother clears her throat.

“The two of us are going to have to leave early, I’m afraid. We, uh . . . we forgot to feed the cats, and it’ll need to be done before we fly.”

Forgot to feed your cats? You’re rich enough that you probably have a full-time cat feeder.

“But we haven’t even had the main course yet,” I say. “Is it really so urgent?”

They stand and gather their things.

“They’re very needy cats, unfortunately.” Luke’s mom fixes her gaze on her Birkin as she slings it onto her arm, avoiding eye contact. “Besides, I think the two of you kids have some things you need to discuss. Have a lovely evening. We’ll see you again soon.”

A quick kiss and they’re gone, hurrying out like a stink bomb just exploded.

What the hell is going on?

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Luke rounds on me. Hot anger burns in his eyes, his voice low, constrained. “When exactly were you planning on telling me?”

He knows.

Realization sinks like a rock to the pit of my stomach. For a moment, I consider feigning ignorance but that’s obviously not the right thing to do now—it’d only make him madder.

I guess I can’t be too surprised. He was going to find out eventually, what with me puking my guts up every few minutes.

“This is why you’ve been acting so weird on me,” he accuses, “and disappearing to the bathroom all the time. I thought you just had a small bladder or something, but nope, I’m just a goddamn idiot.”

Every word out of his mouth seems to fan the flames bigger, hotter.

“Luke,” I say, my heart pounding, “please, don’t be too angry. I was trying to find the best time to tell you, I swear. It’s just . . . it never seemed like the right time. You were always stressed with work, or . . .” I trail off, utterly aware of how completely lame my excuses sound.

What can I say? That I was scared you would get rid of me and steal my baby away? It sounds silly now.

“I was going to tell you this evening, after the meal,” I eventually whisper. “I swear. You have to believe me. It’s the truth.”

“But why? Why wait so long?” He looks nonplussed, like he just can’t understand. “Things have been going so well for us, haven’t they? I thought you were finally forgetting about this stupid annulment stuff, that you were finally ready to give us a chance.”

“I was! I am!”

“So why keep the baby a secret from me? Why keep my baby a secret from me?”

His baby. Those words, in that voice, stirs up all the emotions that have been warring in my chest. But the battle wages beneath the surface.

Outwardly, I’m silent. I just don’t have an answer for him that won’t make things worse.

“All I can think of is that you were never planning on staying married to me in the first place.” Luke’s voice is cracking. “You were just going to disappear and never let me be a part of my kid’s life. Am I right?”

“No, Luke, I swear,” I cry. “I would never do that. It’s not that, I promise you.”

“So what is it, then?” he pleads. “I need an answer here, Tess. If there’s a simple explanation, you can just tell me right now.”

He’s waiting, but I can’t come up with the right words. After all, he’s at least partially right . . . but it sounds so ugly when he puts it like that.

In my mind, I was just protecting myself, protecting, my baby . . . I just didn’t think about the fact that it’s his baby too.

I shake my head, tears rolling wetly down my cheeks. I want to shrink from the shame.

I didn’t want him to find out this way. I guess his parents probably worked it out and told him, not knowing that he wasn’t aware. If only I had the chance to tell him on my own . . . but it’s too late for that now.

I screwed up and I’m paying the price now.

Luke’s still sitting there, staring at me, waiting for an answer that won’t come. His phone chimes on the table, and with one last, sad look at me, he scoops it up and stalks off.

What do I do now? Should I leave? Does he even want to talk to me anymore?

Before I can make a decision, he’s back. He looks like he’s somehow in an even worse mood. He throws a handful of bills down on the table and turns to leave.

“Luke,” I call out, “what’s going on?”

He looks like he’s going to leave without saying anything but turns around at the last second.

“Work emergency,” he growls. “I’m leaving. Enjoy the rest of the meal.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me sitting there all alone.

In a moment of perfect timing, the waiter suddenly appears, carrying a tray with all four main courses sitting on it. He coughs awkwardly as he places the food down on the table, not meeting my eyes, then scurries away.

I want the ground to swallow me up. I can feel the eyes of everyone nearby on me, wondering exactly what I must have done to chase off all three of my dinner companions.

I want to go after Luke and try to make things right, but the arrival of the food sets off my nausea again, and I’m forced to duck back into the restrooms once more.

I sit in a stall, sobbing.

This is it. It’s all over now, and it’s all my stupid fault. Why didn’t I just tell him as soon as I found out? Why did I let myself get so caught up in his past? It wasn’t fair on him.

Burying my head in my hands, I let the tears flow.

God, I hate myself.