Tears streamed down Keeley's face as they walked to the parking lot. Her ears burned with embarrassment; she wasn't the type to cry in public.

Aaron's hand remained in hers the entire time, guiding her away from light poles, cars, and other people so she wouldn't have to look up. His thoughtfulness only made her cry harder.

Reaching the car, he sighed heavily and pulled her into a hug. "Come here, cry it all out."

The invitation broke the dam. She sobbed so hard she felt she might snap. The harder she sobbed, the tighter his grip became.

"It's okay, it's going to be okay," he murmured, stroking her hair.

Was it? Could anything ever be okay with all this confusion?

She wasn't sure how long they stood there, but when she finally pulled away, tears, snot, and mascara stained his charcoal gray dress shirt.

Keeley buried her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry. I ruined your shirt."

"Not a big deal; I have dozens. What matters is if you're feeling better," he said matter-of-factly. He genuinely didn't care about the shirt.

She peeked at him through her fingers. His brow was creased with concern, and it ached her heart.

How long had it been since Aaron had looked at her like that? Her Aaron. Because this one felt different.

In all their years together, she couldn't recall ever being held while she cried. This solidified it: she had to consider them separate entities.

She gave him a small, watery smile. "I think I got it out of my system. Thanks."

"No problem. If you ever need to cry again, my shirts are happy to accommodate you."

Keeley laughed, a strangled sound. His formality was amusing. "You're so weird."

"You've mentioned that before. How exactly am I weird?"

"You act in ways I don't expect. I guess you're not the person I thought you were," she said thoughtfully.

Aaron frowned. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"A good thing."

"Oh. Nice to know." He opened the passenger door. "Come on, let's get you home. It's cold."

The drive home was silent. Keeley was so tired and overwhelmed that her mind was blank. She needed sleep and a reevaluation of her worldview.

Keeping things light, she said as she got out of the car, "Thanks for dinner…and for—what did you say? Having your shirt accommodate me?"

"Anytime," he said seriously. "I'm only a text away. Get some rest, Keeley. Everything will seem better tomorrow."

She hoped so. She really hoped so.

Entering her apartment, Jennica was gushing about her date with Cameron—he'd asked her out after all—and Keeley slipped into her room unnoticed. She wasn't in the mood for gushing.

A shower helped, but what really comforted her was snuggling under extra blankets with Molly, her purring cat, curled against her face.

She closed her eyes. Aaron was right. Things would be better in the morning.

Aaron owed his hacker a debt of gratitude for the heads-up about Keeley's bad day. She rarely cried; whatever happened at school must have been upsetting.

Many things tonight were unexpected—her accepting dinner, for instance—but he was most surprised she was wearing the necklace he'd given her six years ago.

He'd assumed she'd gotten rid of it, like everything else he'd given her, especially since she'd hated him then. She must have truly liked it to keep it so long.

He hadn't meant to reveal so much. He didn't want to scare her by showing how much he loved her, but her bafflement at his kindness made silence impossible.

At least she didn't seem disgusted when he said she made him happy. It wasn't "I love you," but close enough. She had to suspect his feelings.

She smiled and thanked him genuinely—a promising sign. Her request for a silly souvenir was even more promising.

Tonight was a victory, even though seeing Keeley weep was heartbreaking. He'd never been good at consoling people.

He'd never tried, until the day the doctor told her she couldn't have children. She'd cried even harder then.

That worthless scum. Doctors swear to "do no harm," yet that man accepted a bribe from Alistair to falsify Keeley's pregnancy results. She never had an ectopic pregnancy!

Keeley was nearly three months pregnant with a healthy child, and Dr. Rothman performed a secret abortion, claiming a mistake during an ectopic pregnancy procedure that necessitated the removal of her uterus and fallopian tubes.

It was an evil plan. Even with an ectopic pregnancy, the worst outcome should have been the removal of one fallopian tube. She could still have conceived.

Alistair wanted Keeley out of the Hale family so badly he permanently sabotaged her ability to bear an heir, thinking it would make Aaron leave her.

His wife fell into a deep depression, and he tried everything to help, but nothing worked. He was depressed too; he'd been so excited when Keeley took that pregnancy test.

It wasn't until he overheard his father talking to Lacy months later that he learned the truth. Alistair executed the plan, but the idea came from Lacy.

Aaron was devastated, but more than that, he was furious. He'd failed to protect his family.

Keeley never found out.

Thinking it was a natural misfortune had nearly destroyed her; he couldn't bear to tell her the truth. She'd been conspired against for marrying him. She couldn't handle it.

Their child's due date was in a few months—always a difficult time for him. Another source of guilt. He was grateful Keeley didn't have to bear that burden.

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