My Family Stole My Wedding Day, So I Stole His Bride-to-Be novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: Camilla's Reasons

Camilla knocked at five minutes to midnight, with her hands in her coat pockets and her hair loose.

I opened the boathouse door and did not step aside.

"Gemma is upstairs," I said. "I'll hear you out here."

"I'd rather it was just you."

"It is. She stays up there."

Gemma had gone up the ladder when the headlights turned in. She had touched my arm once on the way and said, very low, "I'm not going to listen."

I knew she would listen. I wanted her to.

Camilla looked at the small kitchen, the lamp, the two coffee cups on the drainboard.

"So this is where you live."

"Say what you came to say."

She sat down at the table without being asked, and she kept her coat on.

"I was twenty-three," she said. "We got engaged on a Saturday in April, and on Monday your father asked me to lunch. He said he was so happy. He said the family was so glad to have me."

"I remember. You came home with flowers."

"I came home with a check." She said it to the tabletop. "He said you were young, and he'd like us to wait a year or two, so you could finish building the delivery routes. He said he'd cover my rent until then, so I wouldn't have to take extra shifts."

"And you said yes."

"I said it was a kind offer. I said I would think. Then my mother got her diagnosis in June."

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