“No, they are,” I say as the truth bubbles up inside me. It’s the guilt. It’s the uncertainty. It’s Chad thinking that I’m some sort of perfect person who can revive a dying marriage, when in reality, I’m just a fraud. And before I can stop myself, I say, “Things with Wilder are just…they’re not real.”

He pauses for a second and then asks, “Wait…really?”

I nod.

“So all of this…it was…it was a farce?”

I cover my face and let out a small sob, shaking my head. “God, I’m so stupid.”

Gingerly, he pats my back, and I take that as his uncomfortable way of trying to comfort me. But he shouldn’t have to be comforting me, because this is all a lie. My entire relationship with Wilder, it’s been a lie, and I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but now that Chad is coming to me for advice on how to fix his marriage, I can see it’s very much a big deal. Because I don’t want people getting the wrong impression about me and Wilder, thinking that maybe some communication can solve things, because that’s not true at all.

I tried communicating with Matt.

And look where I am now…at a marriage camp with a fake husband, learning that there are actually good men out there. I had just married a dud.

Despite a slight concern this could backfire on me, I decide honesty is better for Chad. It’s time to be honest all around. That’s probably the best way to step forward.

“Wilder is not my husband,” I say. “He’s my best friend’s brother. He came with me here to pretend to be my husband. The fighting, the arguing, it was all a farce.” I turn to look at Chad through watery eyes. “I was trying to fit in at work, and when you called me out in the conference room, I…I just felt like I needed to save face, so I went along with the lie. I’m so sorry, Chad. It was stupid, and I shouldn’t have made you think that my marriage could be so easily fixed when that’s not the case at all. Because the reality is I was married to a man named Matt, and we couldn’t work it out. I carry that guilt with me every day, something I didn’t realize until I came here. So yeah, don’t come to me for marriage advice, because my marriage failed.”

Silence falls between us, and I don’t blame him. What can he really say to that?

“Wow,” he says, and I brace myself for the snide comments, for the victory parade that he’s in the right and I’m in the wrong, but instead, he turns toward the lake and says, “I’m sorry, Scottie.”