You need to tell Greg

You sighed, thinking about your options, and decided you needed to go home. Greg deserved some kind of explanation of what was going on with you.

"Could you take me home?" You asked, "I know Greg will be upset, but I just can't keep lying to him anymore. Plus, I have to go to work... In six hours." The mere thought of it hurt.

"That's right! You've got your new job! Oh God..." Aimee's eyes were round with comprehension and horror. "I kept you out *way* too late, Stefi! I'm so, *so* sorry!" In the excitement with Jonas, she seemed to have completely forgotten about your interview results.

"It's okay, Aimee, I just need some sleep." You needed a coma.

Carol came back in and walked you through some paperwork, and you set up an appointment with a psychiatrist for the next day, after work. The two of you found Aimee's car, and she dropped you off at home shortly after.

Your waved off Aimee's offer to accompany you inside, telling her you'd update her later. Then you were alone, one hand on the doorknob. How was this going to go? How much could you tell Greg? He had a right to know everything, you decided. Steeling yourself, you swung open the door to a darkened room. You slipped your heels off in the entry, which felt phenomenal, and noticed a sound from somewhere in the mostly silent house.

The TV was on, which was unexpected, and you followed the noise into the living room. Greg was there, asleep on an armchair facing the screen.

You felt an internal twinge, thinking of how he'd probably fallen asleep like that waiting for you. You had noticed several missed calls on your phone at urgent care, but hadn't wanted to wake him up by returning them. The talk you'd imagined would go more smoothly in person. Now you realized he must have been worried sick. You turned off the TV and he woke, looking around confused for a second before spotting you.

"Stephanie? You're back! What happened?" Greg looked terrible. He started to get up, but you waved him back down before sitting with a sigh.

"I've had a... a complicated day, Greg." You struggled to find better words. Some part of your brain kept yelling things like "cheater!" or "slut!" in your head. Greg didn't deserve this.

He looked taken aback, and you heard his concern taking a hostile edge when you spoke. "'A complicated day?' You've been gone *all* day and *all* night, and now you come back like..." He gestured to you, and you looked down at yourself. You still wore the outfit you'd interviewed in, but it had been hastily removed and replaced a couple times since then. You'd been in the pool, too. Your makeup was probably a mess, and you were bone tired. At least your head was clear...ish.

You opened your mouth, feeling awful, then spilled it, "Please don't get mad, Greg. I've got a lot to tell you." And you told him. Greg interrupted you a few times at first, asking for clarifications about your dream or your side of the fight you'd had before. When you got to your night with Aimee he grew visibly upset, but you could see him trying to control it. You had to pause a few times, and you felt those painful silences like physical blows.

When you got to today, and to your time with Jonas, he stood up, waved for you to continue, and started pacing, obviously upset. Greg's breathing was labored as you finished, his big hands balled in tight fists. You'd started crying at some point, but he didn't interrupt to comfort or accuse you of anything. Somehow it was worse that way.

Finally you were finished, and sat alone on the couch, looking up at him through teary eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, Greg," you murmured, sniffling, "I wasn't trying to hurt you. I think there's something wrong with me..." You trailed off, at a loss. This was all so beyond you.

Greg's face was a picture of betrayal, but you couldn't tell if he was angry or sympathetic. He looked down at you, then opened his mouth...