“This is supposed to be our wedding.”
“Then maybe you should have told me why the last one didn’t happen.”
He said nothing.
Vanessa reached into the envelope again.
There was one final item.
A receipt.
A hotel receipt.
From 11 months earlier.
Evan’s name was at the top.
Vanessa’s was under it.
One room.
Two nights.
My hands started shaking.
“What is this?”
Evan stepped forward.
“Nothing happened.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
That answer frightened me more than if he had simply denied being there.
I looked at her.
“Did you sleep with him?”
“No.”
“Then why were you in a hotel together?”
“He asked me to meet him.”
“Why?”
“He said he wanted to apologize.”
Evan said, “And I did.”
Vanessa nodded.
“Then he asked me to sign something.”
“What?”
“A statement.”
She handed me another page.
It said Vanessa acknowledged that some accusations she had made following the end of their relationship were exaggerated due to emotional distress.
