"Did you know about them?"
"No," she said sharply. "And don't insult me by asking again." She paused, then added, "Her father is heartbroken. He called our pastor this morning, said he doesn't know how to look at her the same." And then this line: "I raised a daughter, not a liar."
I didn't say anything because truthfully, I didn't feel victorious. I felt tired. But somewhere in that moment, I realized that I wasn't the only one she'd been lying to. This wasn't just a marriage problem. This was a character problem.
About three hours later, I received a knock on the hotel door. I thought maybe it was a staff member. Instead, it was Riley's brother, Drew.
Now, Drew and I were never exactly friends. He's three years younger, a firefighter, and the kind of guy who always acted like he was auditioning to be someone's cool uncle. But we had a history, a civil one. He looked rough: red eyes, jaw clenched.
"I came here on my own," he said.
"Okay," I said. "So why are you here?"
He sighed. "Because Camille's brother is my friend, and he just told me everything."
I stepped aside and let him in. He sat down without asking.
"You know what hurts the most?" he said. "I defended her. Every time my parents said she was being selfish or cold or manipulative growing up, I told them they were wrong. I told them she was just misunderstood."
I stayed quiet.
He leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Was it just Camille?"
I nodded slowly. "As far as I know. But they've been hiding it for years. Camille's boyfriend knew. They even hooked up during our engagement."
He covered his face with his hands. Then he asked a question I wasn't ready for: "Do you think she married you to hide it?"