Chapter 5: Things She Hadn't Told Him
I told Greg that night.
Not because I had been hiding something.
Because there was nothing to hide.
But the text had planted a seed of a specific kind of doubt — the kind designed to grow in the dark — and I knew that if I waited, it would take root in the space between us before I had a chance to pull it out.
We sat on the edge of the bed after June was asleep.
"Before we met," I said, "I was engaged."
Greg looked at me.
"His name was Paul.
We were together for three years.
We got engaged and then — it fell apart.
He wasn't who I thought he was." I looked at my hands.
"I found out he had been seeing someone else for most of our relationship.
I ended it.
I moved to a different city.
I started over." I looked up.
"That's the year before we met.
That's all there is."
Greg was quiet.
"I never told you the details because it wasn't a story I liked telling.
It wasn't a secret.
It was just something I survived and moved past." I held his gaze.
"If Janet somehow found that out and is planning to use it as — I don't know what.
Ammunition.
I don't know what she thinks it proves."
Greg looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said, "Why didn't you tell me about Paul?"
"I told you I had a serious relationship before you.
I told you it ended badly."
"You didn't tell me about the engagement."
"No." I didn't look away.
"I didn't.
I was ashamed of it.
Not of ending it — of not seeing it sooner.
Of spending three years with someone who was lying to me." I paused.
"Does it matter?"
He thought about it honestly.
That was one of the things I had always trusted about Greg — he didn't answer questions like that quickly.
"No," he said finally.
"It doesn't change anything."
"But?"
"But I don't like that my mother knows something about your past that I didn't." He said it plainly, without accusation.
"Not because of what it is.
Because of what she'll do with it."
"What can she do with it?"
"She'll frame it." He stood and moved to the window.
"She'll find a way to make it sound like a pattern.
Like instability.
Like you're someone who can't be trusted around June." He turned back.
"She won't say it directly.
She never says anything directly.
She'll ask questions.
She'll express concern.
She'll let other people draw the conclusions."
I thought about every Christmas gift.
Every Easter.
Every *of course.*
"She's been building a case," I said.
"Hasn't she.
Not just recently.
For years."
Greg looked at me.
"I think so," he said.
"Against me."
"Against the idea of you." He came back and sat down.
"Against the idea that this is his real family.
That you're his real wife.
That June is—" He stopped.
"His real child," I finished.
The word landed in the room between us like something dropped.
Greg reached over and took my hand.
"I need to talk to Patricia again tomorrow," he said.
"I need to tell her about the text."
"Okay."
"And I need to call Daniel.
He knew something at the party.
He knew she'd call Marcus."
"He told me afterward.
He said they'd stayed close.
He said too close."
Greg nodded slowly.
"Marcus handled the divorce.
My divorce from Amber and Mason's mother.
He was on her side, technically, but he and my mother — they always got along.
She used to say he was like a second son." He paused.
"I never thought about what that meant until now."
I looked at him.
"Greg.
What exactly did your mother tell Marcus about me?"
He met my eyes.
"I don't know yet," he said.
"But I'm going to find out."
His phone buzzed on the nightstand.
A message from Daniel: *She called me too.
She's telling people you threw her out of the party.
She's saying you humiliated her in front of the whole family.
She's saying she's worried about June's home environment.* A pause.
Then: *She used that exact phrase.
Home environment.
May you like
Greg, she's been talking to someone.
This isn't improvised.*
