I look around and see that I’m in a den. The warm fireplace in front of me is glowing brightly. I look toward the window and see that it’s completely dark outside except for the glowing porch lamp. And as I look through the clear glass, I begin to realize that the events from earlier weren’t a dream, that I haven’t imagined them.
I try to stand, but my knees feel wobbly, resulting in a quick return to my sitting position. I see my purse sitting on the table in front of me. I wonder how I got in here. I look toward the door and realize now’s my chance to make a break for it, to get out of this horrible situation I’ve thrown myself into, but I know the answers I need are in this house. I never thought things would go like this. Never in a million years did I ever think I would almost fight another woman over the man I loved, especially one who was claiming to not even know me.
Engaged. How could I have been so stupid? All of his words, his promises, were lies, every single last one of them, and still what hurts the most is the way he acted… as if he didn’t know me. It was like I meant absolutely nothing to him. And what tears me up inside… about the way he acted… he did it so well…
Why go through this whole scheme? Why not just divorce me, or be honest with me and tell me he was in love with someone else? Why did he come to see Caylen? Why did he feed her all of his lies about missing me? He has to be a psychopath or a con; Hillary was right. That can’t be it though. If he is, how will I ever explain this to my daughter? How could he have an entire life with me and have a life here? How is it possible for him to live two lives? How can he own a penthouse in Chicago and live on a farm in Madison? The land is vast, but… it’s just not… him. But then again, I guess I don’t know him. I’m more confused than I was this morning, when I knew absolutely nothing.
“You’re awake.”
A soft voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I look up to see a middle-aged red-haired woman smiling so warmly at me that I instantly feel as if I know her.
“William. She’s up, honey,” she calls toward the kitchen. She walks cautiously toward me and offers me a steaming cup of tea.
I look at her cautiously, wanting to know who she is.
“You need to drink something,” she urges me with a smile.
I take the cup and sip it slowly. William—I now recognize the man from the picture in the paper—comes through the door and examines me, warily standing beside the woman. The man’s presence, though non-threatening, is colder than the woman’s. His expression is set in a frown, but even with his hard demeanor, his handsomeness shines through. He has to be in his late forties but still has a full head of light brown hair and sea-blue eyes.
I put the tea on the table in front of me. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. The man sighs, almost in frustration, and sits in a big chair across from me. He clasps his hands together and looks at the woman. She stands beside him, resting her hand on his shoulder. They look at me as if they know more than I do, which is very intimidating, since I have no idea who they are.
“You’re very beautiful,” the woman says in a sullen tone.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, realizing what I must look like, and beautiful is not it. I quickly adjust my shirt and comb my fingers through my hair.
“You don’t know who we are.” It comes out as a statement more than a question.
I nod. She smiles slightly and looks at the man next to her, and he frowns to himself. I watch both of them; they seem to be as uncomfortable as I am. I slide my hands across my lap and sigh.
“I saw your picture in the paper with Cal,” I say softly, my eyes falling on the man from earlier.
“When you and Chris won the pie eating contest, honey.” She smiles softly at her husband.
I feel my mouth frown. “Why do you keep calling him Chris?” I want some answers, and I feel the exigency of the situation beginning to implode inside me. When she doesn’t answer, the little calmness I have is slowly slips away. “Who are you? What is going on?”
The couple looks at each other before responding.
“I’m Gwen Scott, and this is my husband, William,” the woman explains quickly. “We’re Chris’s parents.”
I stand up again. If one more person calls him Chris, I’m going to lose it. “I want to talk to Cal. I want to talk to him right now!” My voice is rising shakily.
“That’s not possible, honey,” the woman says calmly.
I pace in front of the couch angrily. “Does he not want to see me? The damage has already been done! I just—he owes me an explanation!” I start toward the doorway of the room, determined to find him if I have to search every room in this house myself.
“Lauren, please calm down,” Mrs. Scott pleads with me.
I stop walking and turn to look at her. “You know my name?”
Her expression is trying to hide some pain as she gives me a pitiful look before looking back at her husband.
He stands up beside her. “We know who you are. You’re Cal’s wife.” He sighs, folding his arms.
His wife looks at me almost sympathetically.
“Cal.” It feels so good to have someone here say his name. I was starting to feel as if I was in the twilight zone. “So he told you about me? Then why does he act like he doesn’t know me? Is it because of that woman out there? I’m sorry, I don’t know who… he never mentioned you. He… he…” I feel myself choking up. This is too much. Way too much and I barely know anything.
“He doesn’t know who you are,” the woman says, walking closer toward me.
“What?” I clutch my purse to my chest and look at her skeptically.
“The person you saw earlier wasn’t Cal,” her husband tells me.
“I don’t understand… no, that was Cal. I know it. It has to be,” I say, finding myself in need of sitting down once again.
“No. It wasn’t,” she says, taking a seat beside me.
I search her eyes to see if she’s joking. Her expression is soft and compassionate. I don’t understand. He looked like Cal, he sounded like Cal.
“Are you telling me that… is he Cal’s brother? He’s Cal’s twin?” I ask, thinking back to Angela’s idea. In fact, it would make sense. That would explain why he didn’t know me, why he looked at me as if he’d never seen me before in his life. Cal never mentioned having a twin brother, but then, he didn’t mention a lot of things.
Her husband’s eyebrows rise. “Yes.”
Mrs. Scott frowns at him. “William, no. No more lies. She deserves to know the truth,” she scolds her husband softly, making her husband frown at her.
“She’s not going to understand,” he says, walking away from us.
“We agreed that we’d tell her.” His wife stands up, facing him.
“What won’t I understand? Is he a twin or isn’t he?” I ask sternly.
“We wish it were that simple,” Mrs. Scott says, looking pained.
I glance back and forth between the two. “Please, I-I don’t know what to think about all of this. I came here hoping for… for something different than what I found. I know what I saw, but something within me is hoping it’s not what it looks like.” I laugh pathetically at myself and the hope I still have that this is just a big misunderstanding.