Down the hall, he began singing. He was conditioning. It was a telltale sign.
As a last resort, I opened the Instagram app and searched through his messages there. A few random things that looked like spam, a few brand rep companies, and one message from an account that no longer existed.
He rarely used Instagram, so I wasn’t all that surprised. I clicked on his profile, searching through his pictures for anyone who’d liked his pictures who resembled the girl, to no avail. He wasn’t all that popular there, one or two likes on his total of sixteen posts, and she wasn’t one of them. No one resembling the woman had ever liked or commented on any form of his social media. She was a ghost. I had no name, a vague recollection of her appearance, a knowledge of where she lived, though I hadn’t made a point to remember her address, and that was it.
I clicked on the search button, ready to look for the restaurant, in case she worked there. Instead, my eyes widened.
What?
The water shut off down the hall, but I wasn’t listening.
There, right at my fingertips, was her name. The last person he’d searched. KatieKat. Sunflower emoji next to her name. I clicked on her profile. The girl in the photograph looked much better than the one I’d seen today. She seemed younger and happier, with dark sunglasses, a polka dot headband, and a large, bubblegum bubble protruding from her lips.
I scrolled.
She ran a food and travel blog called KatieKatTravels, I was learning, where she traveled and blogged about the foods she tried. She was…incredibly popular, as it turned out. Each of her posts had well over a thousand comments and even more likes.
She was fun, playful, and annoyingly adorable.
Her latest post was an announcement that she was planning to try out a restaurant outside of Crestview for their grand opening. Dilly Darlings.
The bathroom door opened, causing me to jump. I cleared out of his phone right away, closing the app and tossing the phone down on the table just as he headed my way. I hadn’t been quick enough, though.
“What were you doing?” he asked with a half-laugh. I wasn’t sure what he’d seen.
“Looking through your phone.”
He swallowed. “Okay…why?” To my surprise, he didn’t seem angry.
I shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly. “Mine was in my purse, and I didn’t want to get back up. I just scrolled through Facebook.”
He nodded, not looking the least bit concerned, but he should’ve been. I knew his secrets, and I was prepared to expose them.
“Want me to grab it for you?” he asked, pointing toward my purse.
“Please.” I tried to calm the adrenaline racing through me as he turned away. He walked over, the towel around his waist, and while I normally would’ve taken in the sight of my husband in a state of undress, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t care. It all just hurt too badly. How could I appreciate his boyish charm and devilish good looks when I couldn’t get the image of him holding her, him kissing her, out of my head?
He pulled my phone from my purse and tossed it toward me. “He fell asleep?” he asked, his hands resting on his hips.
“No, he’s awake. He’s just…being calm,” I told him, looking down to Gray, who was staring into space, his little lips opening and closing. Everything was so simple for him. I was almost envious.
“You ready to eat?” he asked, heading back down the hall and toward our bedroom.
I was. I wanted to stay and eat, but I already knew I wasn’t going to. I had somewhere else to be now. My stomach was growling and I desperately didn’t want to leave Gray, but I had to know the truth. I had to. I’d been here before and brushed my suspicions away, and it had been to my own detriment. I wouldn’t do it again.
“Actually,” I said, an apology in my tone, “I’m not going to be able to have dinner with you. Howie just emailed me about a client. I’m going to have to go into the office for an hour.”
He reappeared in the hall, this time dressed, and ran his towel over his wet hair. “What? Seriously? You just got home.”
“I know,” I told him, wincing. “Trust me, I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to. I’m starving and dinner smells delicious. But it’s a really big client. I can’t afford to let this event fall apart.”
He sighed, tossing the towel into the laundry room and heading toward me with his arms outstretched. “Do you want me to make you some dinner to go? You must be starving.”
“No, that’s all right. I won’t be able to eat it on the go, and I couldn’t eat during the meeting, anyway. I’ll be okay. Just…could you leave a plate out for me for when I get home?”
He took Gray from my arms, the all-too-familiar lump of worry reappearing in my belly. “Of course.” He leaned in, kissing my lips before I could deflect, and I kissed Gray’s head as well.
“Okay, I’ll be back soon. I shouldn’t be gone long.” I turned away from him and scooped up my purse, heading out the door before I could talk myself out of my plan.
I created a fake Instagram profile, Sarah Silver, while sitting in the street in front of the restaurant and followed Katie, turning on the alerts so I’d get notified whenever she posted.
After I was done, I climbed from the car and walked into the restaurant, pulling out my phone once I’d been seated. I pretended to stare at the screen, while in reality, my eyes searched the room, trying to determine where she might be. According to her post, she should’ve been here. Had I missed her? Had she already come and gone? It had only been an hour since she’d made the post.
I checked back on her Instagram. There were no food pictures yet, nothing to announce that she’d actually been here.
Refresh.
Her feed now contained a new picture, a small, white plate on a red table, much like my own. She is here.
I turned in my seat, looking all around. Where was she? Why was I missing her? I stood, walking toward the bathroom. “Is everything all right, miss?” my waiter asked, stopping me.
“Yes, sorry. Everything’s fine. I’m just going to eat at the bar, if that’s all right? My date bailed.”
He nodded, his wary smile warming. “Sure, of course.”
I walked past him, past the booths of an older couple, and a much younger couple, then the table of a group of teens who looked entirely annoyed about everything in their lives.
When I rounded the corner, I stopped in my tracks. There she was. Katie. My husband’s mistress.
I stood completely frozen for a moment as I processed what was happening. She was dressed much better, her hair frizz-free and curled into beachy, shoulder-length waves. She wore high-waist shorts and a pink tube top that matched the pink ribbons attached to her shoes and running up her calves. She took a bite of the cheesecake in front of her, chewing with intention, her eyes closed.
When they opened, I moved to the side, hiding slightly behind the partition of glass and alcohol just in time for her to look my way. If she saw me, she didn’t react. Instead, she took another bite. She turned her phone around, holding the fork up parallel to her face and grinning wildly.
Within minutes, the picture was online, and I was staring at the photo—her teeth a bit whiter, her face a bit filtered. The cheesecake has been rated six out of five cherries, whatever that meant.