My Husband's Secret in the Tent, He Had Another Fiancée There novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Wrong Tent
Samantha takes Tent 4 beside her husband's secret fiancée and hears him say he will make her trip worth it.
A clerk in a green camp fleece asked me for a name at the front desk, and a stranger behind me gave hers first.
"Shanna Merrill," the brunette said, sliding up to the counter. "Waylon's waiting in Tent 3."
I had driven two hours with a cooler of his favorite sandwiches to surprise my husband.
His name is Waylon Casto.
The clerk laughed and tapped her keyboard. "Two years now! You two are the cutest thing we've got."
"Good," Shanna said. "I've been dying to see his face. I brought him something special."
I put my hand flat on the counter so it would stop shaking.
"I need a tent," I said. "Number 4. The one next to theirs."
The clerk looked up at me. "Are you sure? Nobody books Tent 4."
"Why not?"
"Because it's right beside Tent 3, and those two are loud. You hear everything."
"Do they come here a lot?"
"They're lifetime members. Every weekend for two years. People drive in just to watch them hold hands."
"We have a wall of their photos in the lodge," she said. "They built this place's whole name."
"She's never even seen his house," she added. "He says it's being renovated. Isn't that sweet? He wants her to see it finished."
I nodded, because my face had to do something.
Two years ago I was working nights on a freight contract that nearly broke me.
Waylon said he was bored and needed a hobby, and he took up camping.
After that, every time my deadlines got worse, he vanished into the woods.
I had called it harmless, and I had even felt sorry for him.
The clerk wrote my name on a card and slid a key across.
I signed it Samantha Ames, because I had kept my own name at work.
Walking to Tent 4, I passed Tent 3.
The canvas glowed with a lamp, and I heard Waylon laugh.
"One week without you," he said. "I thought I was going to lose my mind."
"Down, boy," a woman said. "Did you remember the condoms this time?"
I stood very still on the gravel path.
I knew that laugh. I had heard it every night for six years.
"There's a bonfire at sundown," Shanna said. "I have a surprise for you."
"Shanna, you're the best," he said.
I went into Tent 4 and zipped the flap and sat on the cot.
I did not cry and I did not scream. I sat there with my hands in my lap and listened to my husband be happy.
At dusk people began to gather outside.
Through the gap in the flap I watched them string fairy lights between the trees and stack logs in the stone ring.
A girl in a camp fleece stopped at my tent and looked in.
"You're new," she said. "I get it, you want to see them. But why do this to yourself? The front desk should have warned you. Nobody sleeps next to Tent 3."
I said nothing.
"Buy tissues," she said kindly, and she went away.
I laughed, one short laugh, and it hurt.
The fire went up, and Shanna walked Waylon into the middle of the ring with her fingers laced through his.
They told the crowd how they met, and I listened to all of it.
They had met at a trailhead. He had lost his glove, and she had given him hers.
I had bought him that glove for our third anniversary.
Hearing it from their own mouths was worse than anything the clerk had said.
Then Waylon dropped to one knee and held up a ring.
"Shanna, I love you," he said. "Marry me."
I saw a small blue stone catch the firelight.
Shanna put her hand over her mouth, and her eyes were shining.
Two hundred strangers shouted and clapped, and a woman nearby twisted her boyfriend's ear and told him to take notes.
Shanna held out her hand, and Waylon slid the ring onto it.
Then they kissed in front of everybody, and the camp cheered again.
Someone started handing out slices of cake.
I thought about how Waylon's mother, Diane, told me every Sunday for two years to skip family dinner and get some sleep.
I had thanked her for it.
The couple walked the ring of tents with a tray, and they stopped at mine.
"Whoever's in there!" Waylon called. "I bet you came to see how a real couple does it."
"Have some cake," Shanna said. "I hope all your dreams come true."
I put my hand through the flap and took the plate.
"Yeah," I said. "Thank you."
My voice cracked, and I kept the zipper closed.
They looked at each other, pleased, and walked on.
The fire burned down, and the camp went quiet.
Then Waylon's voice came through the canvas of Tent 3, a few feet from my pillow.
"Somebody's right next door," Shanna whispered.
"Who cares?" Waylon said. "She didn't come out for cake, so she doesn't want to be known. Let's make her trip worth it."
I opened my phone and pressed record.
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