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Red Velvet in search of Tate. If I was going to do this, I needed to do it now before my confidence ran for the hills. My heart rate increased as my eyes landed on him slumped against the main bar, talking to a regular of Red Velvet. I maneuvered my way through the bar, apologizing as I bumped into people. Regulars stopped me and offered their congratulations, but my eyes remained firmly locked on Tate’s back.
    As I stood behind him, my memories flashed back to when I had first told him I was pregnant and finding him slumped over at this very bar after drinking himself into oblivion at the thought of becoming his dad. The feelings were still so raw. I placed my hand on his back and felt him stiffen under my touch.
    “Tate, it’s me.”
    He swung around and faced me. He eyes scanned over my face as fear swam in his eyes, a fear I could only assume was about what I was about to say to him. Whether I would be ending our relationship for good or whether we could move past the atrocity of Chelsea. My heart jumped in my chest. It was all on me now. I was holding our future in the palm of my hands.
    “Sav, I didn’t do anything. I would never touch her. That video was filmed—without my consent, I might fucking add—months and months ago. Before you. Why would I cheat on you? I’m drunk, Sav, but I’m not lying to you. I’d never lie to you.” Tate took a step towards me with eyes firing with truth.
    “I know, Tate.”
    “Well why didn’t you trust me? Why didn’t you tell her to fuck off? Why didn’t you hold my hand and tell me that you believed me?”
    “Tate, it’s easier said than done. We both have history. We both have insecurities. I couldn’t handle being bombarded like that. She had a video. The images of her fucking you are constantly on my mind. I can’t forget that, no matter how hard I try.”
    “I am sick of talking about that fucking video,” he barked. “I am sick of allowing her to control us.”
    “Well what do you want me to do? Forget what I saw? Forget that you fucked her?”
    “What about you, Savannah? You’ve fucked around. Why is it so different that I have? What makes me so different to you? I’ve fucked a lot of pussy and you’ve fucked a lot of dick.”
    “Uhhh, guys? You might want to take this somewhere private.”
    Both Tate and I swung around to find a sheepish Jack standing with his hands in his pockets, swaying slightly on his feet from the effects of alcohol. My eyes darted around the bar to find a small group of revelers now witnessing the dissolution of Tate and Savannah.
    “Come with me,” Tate grabbed my hand pulling me through the bar towards his office, not giving me any chance to retract my hand from his. He swung open the door and ushered me in, slamming the door behind us and shutting out the noise of Red Velvet.
    I tore away from him and looked around the office. He had completely refurbished it. There wasn’t a single thing that looked the same. A new, larger mahogany desk filled up the main space. An off-white leather couch was pushed along the far wall, bright red cushions splattered on it. There were new polished floorboards below my feet and the walls were now a deep red.
    “You renovated?” I walked through his office, my fingertips running along the top of the desk.
    What the hell? I stopped suddenly as my eyes trained in on the photo frame that was sitting on his desk right beside his opened laptop. A photo of Tate and me was looking back at me. In the photo, Tate and I had happiness oozing off us. He was standing behind me with his arms wrapped around me, resting on my stomach. I knew exactly when the photo had been taken. It was the day that we had officially told people about Jellybean, and there in my hand in the photo was the ultrasound picture. Tate had called this photo our first-ever family photo.
    “I got rid of the past.”
    I spun around and looked at him as the anger from earlier quickly returned. “You mean you got rid of all the