“I’m so sorry, Laura.”

I was honestly crying but I don’t know if I was honestly sorry. Maybe I felt guilty. I definitely was.

She had no idea. I shouldn’t have said anything, but I had to. I had to.

“When we started dating –- actually seriously dating, the second time around –- do you remember when I surprised you? You got off work early and found me in your house and I said I was there to make you dinner?”

“Yes,” she said. She was nervous. Of course she was. She had every right to be and she didn’t even know why yet.

“I wasn’t there to make you dinner.”

We had a big fight at her place, in her bedroom, and she stormed off to the bathroom. I was so angry. I didn’t think I’d see her again, so I took something. I didn’t have to tell her what it was, she knew me well enough now. And then two months later we were dating again, and she gave me a key. I had to put it back.

“Forgive me.”

Her face went dark and unreadable. I didn’t know who she was anymore. She didn’t know who I was. And this time when I left, I had nothing.