Skylar and I climb the steep staircase and find ourselves in the crowded dining room. I'm in a daze, wondering how the fuck my life fell apart in the past ten minutes. I've never felt so miserable and betrayed in my life, all of which is compounded by the raucous diners surrounding us who are living their best lives.

In my periphery, a fan approaches holding out a scrap of paper that I reflexively reach out to sign. By the time I exit the restaurant, Skylar is sitting inside of a taxi waiting for me with the passenger door ajar. And, despite me not recalling giving a destination, we're soon speeding towards Marylebone.

The headlights of the oncoming traffic seem brighter than usual, temporarily blinding me. Squinting, I look over at Skylar, who is staring straight ahead. I blink, trying to get the image of her and Freddie jumping away from each other, both of them looking impossibly guilty.

How could I have missed this?

Skylar coughs into her hand and looks over at me, looking as if she might break down in tears. Refusing to meet her eyes, I look out the window.

"Roger..." she says softly, reaching for my hand. I jerk it away and mumble something about waiting until we're home to talk.

So we sit in unbearable silence, the tension palpable.

A few minutes later, we're deposited on the pavement in front of our building. Skylar walks into the flat before me, heading straight to the bedroom. I slam the door shut behind me and kick off my shoes angrily.

Seriously, how could I have missed this that was going on behind my back? Am I really fucking dense, or are those two just really fucking clever?

Stalking through the darkened flat, I throw open our bedroom door. The brass handle hits the wall with a loud thud, making Skylar flinch from where she's sitting on the edge of the bed.

"How long has it been?" I ask abruptly. She pauses, her eyes on the floor until she finally looks up at me. 

"About three months," she whispers, her voice shaking.

"Three months?"

Skylar nods slowly. My brain feels like it's going to explode as I process the information.

"Three months?"

She nods. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner. It's just--"

"You've been shagging Freddie for three fucking months--

"What? Roger--" Skylar interrupts, but  I hold up a hand to silence her, visibly trying to hold my shit together. It's taking everything that I have not to storm out of the flat and out of her life forever.

"You've been shagging Fred for three months," I continue, "and you're apologizing that it's taken you a while to tell me? Not the fact that you're, you know, fucking him?"

"Rog--" She looks both befuddled and alarmed, probably because she never thought I'd figure it out.

"I knew something was up with him. I fucking knew it." I storm over to the wall and pull my arm back, first aimed directly at the drywall. "But I never dreamed that it involved you. Goddammit, Skylar."

Skylar lets out a muted cry when my fist hits the wall, forming a small crater in its wake. Plaster dust flies through the air. Christ, it hurts more than I expected. Punching a wall always seems so satisfying in the films, but I don't feel any better. If anything, I feel worse because, from the feel of it, my fucking hand is broken.

With an exhale, I turn around and slide down the wall until my arse hits the floor. I'm just so tired. I haven't slept properly since our row a few weeks ago, my adrenaline high from the gig is waning... I'm fucking beat. But I'm also more enraged than I've ever been in life, and I guess my body is struggling to balance those two extremes. 

"Roger..." Skylar says softly as she slowly approaches. She reaches out tentatively for my hand, which already begun to swell, and I thank the Lord Jesus that there are only vocals left to record for the new album because I won't be holding drumsticks anytime soon.

"Can I just--"

"Don't touch me." I yank my hand away angrily, but I do so with too much force, and it once again hits the wall behind me.  Yelping from pain, I hold my hand gingerly and wonder if this night can get any worse.

"Roger--" Skylar says, trying once again to approach me.

"Just leave me alone," I whisper hoarsely. Ignoring the pain, I bury my head in my hands so that she won't see the tears threatening to erupt. Skylar sits down beside me, careful that her body doesn't touch mine.

"Roger," she repeats slowly and quietly. "I need you to listen to me--"

"Three months?" I look up, tears staining my face.

"Baby, it's not--"

"Once wasn't enough? It was so good that you two just had to keep going? Fuck, Skylar. What am I supposed to do with that?"

"I didn't shag Freddie," Skylar shouts, taking me by surprise. She takes a deep breath and shoves my shoulder indignantly. "I would never. Are you serious right now?"

"But--"

"Why would you even think that? What the fuck, Roger? Freddie? Really?"

"Then what were you talking about with him?" The words spill out of my mouth, and I can't stop them. "Hmm? Why were you all cuddled up and cozy with him before the gig? He's been fucking sketchy lately, Sky, I wouldn't put anything past him. He's been engaged to Mary for like five fucking years, but he's carrying on behind her back with a bloke. So, yeah, forgive me for thinking--"

I pause mid-rant, trying to slow my thoughts. So, if this isn't about Freddie, then... I mentally rewind the conversation.

"Wait..."

Skylar looks at me sympathetically, as if she's been waiting for me to arrive back where this all started.

"So, you're not sleeping with Fred?" I whisper. She shakes her head and reaches out to lay a shaking hand on my knee.

"I'm pregnant, Roger," she murmurs after a long pause, her eyes on the floor. I blink rapidly, hearing a dull roar in my ears. What? No, it can't be. We've been careful, we've always been so careful, we're practically an advert for safe sex, this isn't supposed to happen.

"Pregnant?" I repeat, my voice cracking on the last syllable. She nods, finally looking up at me, her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I know it's not what we expected--"

"You're pregnant?"

Skylar nods and inches her way towards me, probably looking for some comfort. But this day has been too much for me. So, I ask the stupidest question possible.

"Is it mine?"

Skylar's eyes darken, and, after a moment of hesitation, she stands up and mutters something along the lines of fuck you. She brushes plaster dust off of her knee and walks out of the room without looking back. I hear the front door slam shut in the distance, but I'm too dazed to care.

I sit against the wall for a few moments, taking it all in. Fuck, we're only 27 years old. Okay, sure, I guess most people our age are married with kids. But... we're not those people. We're not ready to be parents. We've never even discussed this, I don't even know if she wants kids. How will that even work with her career? How will it work with my career? I can't tour the world with a baby in tow. And I don't want to be one of those dads who never sees their kid. How will this all work?

About ten minutes too late, I realize that I really need to go after Skylar. She's the love of my life, and I not only accused her of cheating on me but also questioned the paternity of our child. So why the fuck am I still sitting here?

Leaping up, I run down the hall and into the living room in a panic. It's the middle of the night, and the flat is dark and quiet. A dim glow from the streetlights filters through the large windows, and I can hear a lone car driving by.

I have to find Skylar. I have to find Skylar. It's all I can think as I run towards the front door and fling it open, running out into the humid hot night. I'm prepared to leap down the steps two at a time, run like a maniac down the street, whatever it takes to find her as quickly as possible.

Turns out, I don't have to go far. Skylar's slight form is perched on the bottom step, her arms wrapped around her knees. She doesn't turn around when the front door closes noisily behind me; instead, her shoulders slump down even more as if she's trying to make herself invisible.

Slowly I pad down the staircase and sit next to her. Hesitantly, I reach out to touch her shoulder, ignoring the throbbing pain in my hand.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I fucked that all up."

She doesn't respond, just extends one long leg to the pavement, and traces small circles with her bare foot.

"I think you've broken a bone in your hand," she says, still not looking at me. "You should go to the A&E."

Looking down, I'm pretty sure that she's right, but my stupid hand is the least of my concerns right now.

"Are you okay?" I whisper. She shrugs and looks studiously at her feet.

"How long have you known?" I ask, silently begging her to look at me.

"Not long," she replies. "Not very long at all." Her voice breaks on the last word, and tears begin to stream down her face. I realize that she's likely been holding them in all day, and I've only been thinking of myself.

"Hey, hey," I shush, scooting closer to pull her close. She doesn't fight it this time, but I still feel like I'm the last person on Earth that she wants to be near her.

"It'll be alright, Sky," I murmur. "We'll sort it out."

Skylar emits a dark, defeated bark of a laugh. "Neither of us is ready to be a parent, Roger," she says matter-of-factly. "Don't pretend that you're happy about this."

I pause, taking stock of how I actually feel about this news now that the shock is slowly wearing off. Would I have chosen this? Not right now, no. But I've always wanted a whole mess of kids, just not... well, just not when my professional life is so consuming. But Deaky seems to be handling fatherhood alright, though he's always been more of a homebody than the rest of us. Still, I know it's possible. And I've learned over the years that the universe has funny ways of working.

I'm lost in my thoughts when I realize that Skylar is peering over at me with the most peculiar look. Suddenly, all I can think about is what our little one will look like. Maybe it'll have my eyes and her hair-- no, better yet, her eyes and my hair. Or perhaps it'll be one of those babies who doesn't really look like either parent, it just looks like itself.

I snap out of my trance and reach over to wrap Skylar into my arms.

"I love you, Skylar," I murmur against her hair, praying that I can find the right words this time around. "I know this wasn't something we planned, but that doesn't mean it's not the right thing for us. We'll make it work. We'll figure it out. If there's one thing that we're good at is figuring out how to make the impossible work."

Skylar chuckles softly and hesitates before she looks up at me, her eyes full of unshed tears.

"Is that really how you feel?" she asks. "Because this isn't something we can take back later. This is for real, Roger. This is forever."

"Skylar," I say with a small sigh. "You're my forever. You always have been."

Before she can reply, I pull away and stand up. "Don't move a muscle," I say as I fling open the door and run through the flat. Rummaging through my sock drawer, I find what I'm looking for and jog back to where she's seated. Climbing down the stairs, I stand in front of her on the pavement.

Taking a deep breath, I kneel on one knee.

"Dr. Skylar Evans," I say formally, holding out the velvet-covered box. "Will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

Her eyes dart between my eyes, and it's clear that this is unexpected. She wipes an errant tear from the corner of her eye and then stands. She descends one step and reaches down to pull me up so that we're eye-to-eye.

"You don't have to marry me because of this, Roger," she says.

"I'm not doing anything because I have to," I reply, opening the box. She doesn't look down, so our eyes remain locked.

"A wife and a baby aren't very rock-n-roll," she says with complete seriousness, though the corner of her mouth is turned up into the beginnings of a cheeky smirk.

"Everything I do is rock-n-roll," I reply with equal seriousness. "You should know that by now, love."

Skylar looks down at the ring, which I got ages ago. It's beautiful in its simplicity, a thin platinum band lined with tiny diamonds. I knew she wouldn't want anything flashy or clunky, especially since it would be a bother during her workday.

"It's gorgeous," she says, looking back up at me. Then she pauses, and it's the longest pause in the whole history of pauses.

"Say yes, Sky," I whisper, looking at her pleadingly.

"Are you only asking because we're having a baby?" she asks.

"Well, I hardly bought the ring tonight," I reply with a hopeful grin. "No, Sky, this is for real. I want to be with you forever."

She looks down at the ring again and takes a deep breath before looking up at me.

"Then let's do it."