Maybe I don’t give fairy tales enough credit.

There’s something to be said for throwing on a dress and some fancy shoes, going to the ball with a handsome prince, and having all your dreams come true.

But my night is going a little better than Cinderella’s. I don’t remember her getting some in the dark, palace stairwell.

My toes curl, forcing my right shoe to slip off my foot. It tumbles to the stairs, the sound echoing throughout the silent corridor. I tense up but Will doesn’t stop thrusting. He kisses me, hard and fast, bringing me back to him as the humid air makes it harder to breathe.

I arch upward to keep the stairs from digging into my spine and Will sinks his teeth into my neckline. I moan, feeling my thighs quiver around his waist, and he slaps a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet.

We can hear the music in the gym from here and anyone wandering the halls could probably hear us as well. I try to bite my tongue but the passion rocks us both. Even Will buries his open mouth into my bare shoulder to try and smother the grunts slipping through his throat.

Will raises his head as I clench his cock from the inside. He smiles as I come, pressing his hand even harder over my lips to silence my wild voice.

He comes after me, letting his head rest and I wrap my arms around him as he trembles. I feel him inside of me, his tip gently pulsing with each surge of his orgasm. I kiss his forehead, tasting his fresh sweat on my lips, and he shakes with laughter.

“What?” I ask.

He pushes up to stand, slightly wobbling as he looks around. “Why didn’t we ever do this before?”

I laugh with him. “Because you always chickened out.”

“Ah,” he says, sliding the condom off. “That makes sense.”

I lean over to snatch my underwear from the floor as he drops the rubber into the corner trashcan at the foot of the stairs. We dress ourselves quickly in silence, catching our breaths and stealing gazes at each other.

One moment of real bonding and we couldn’t help ourselves. I shouldn’t be so surprised but I am. I thought he’d hate me if he really knew where I was and what I was doing while he stuck around here and built a more stable life. Part of me would even agree with him on it.

I stand, pulling my panties up while I push my dress down. It’s wrinkled now but it was worth it.

Will bends over to pick up my shoe and I smile as I take it from him.

“Thanks,” I say, slipping it back on my foot.

“Hey, Jovie…”

“Yeah?”

He’s silent for several moments before I finally look up into his hesitant face.

“Never mind.” He backs up a step toward the door.

“I didn’t fake it,” I tease, “if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Oh, I know that,” he says, letting his smirk show for a second.

“Then, what is it?”

He bites the edge of his mouth. “I just…” He exhales, turning serious. “Your dad said something to me the other day that I kind of can’t get out of my head. It could be nothing but I just really need for you to tell me what he meant.”

My stomach churns. “Okay.”

His brow furrows. He looks away from me. He does whatever he can to delay it while I wait, barely able to remain upright in my tight shoes. I lay a hand on the railing beside me, digging my hand into the hard metal.

“I mentioned that we were engaged,” he finally says, “and he asked if I’d knocked you up… again.”

I look down at my shoes as panic seizes me. “Okay.”

“I need to know what he meant by that.”

“Not here,” I mutter.

“What?”

I take a wide step around him. “We shouldn’t talk about this here.”

He reaches out to grip my arm. “Just say it, Jove.”

“Will, please.”

“What did he mean?”

I pull my hand free and shove open the hallway doors, startling a few people lingering by the bathrooms across the hall. I spin in the opposite direction toward the gym, feeling Will’s presence over me with every bounding step.

He latches onto my arm again. “Jovie—”

“Don’t do this here,” I beg.

“Is it true? Were you preg—”

“Not here.”

“I have a right to know,” he argues.

“Do you have to know right now?”

He bolts out in front of me, stalling me in my tracks. His eyes pierce into me with accusation and distrust. He squints, obscuring the whites of his eyes even more until only a black pupil peeks out.

“What did you do?” he asks.

My throat burns. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Jovie, what did you do?”

No, not like this. Not here in a place like this. Not with this much anger in his face. Not with people glancing over at us—

“Don’t look at them,” he says. “Look at me.”

Tears fill my eyes. “Will, stop it.”

“Jovie—”

“I miscarried.”

It comes out so quietly I’m not even sure he hears it but as his grip loosens and his stiff face falls, I know he did.

I take a step backward and he just stands there, staring right through me as if I were made of glass. For a second, I think he might cry but he forces the pain from his eyes and turns away from me.

I look over my shoulder, seeing the inquisitive faces of those lingering nearby. I ignore them and walk as fast as I can toward the exit. The more steps I take, the farther away the door feels. My ankles ache and my vision blurs. I just want to get out of here, as far from the pounding music and stabbing guilt as I can.

I make it to the parking lot before I start sobbing.