Page 17 of The Liar's Wife

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 ofteens 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 fivecherries, whatever that meant.

I groaned, trying to lean further and further around the partition so I could get a better look at her. Here, she was pretty. Here, she was more of a threat, and I could finally see what he saw in her. The realization was a gut punch, a tearing open of the wounds I fought so hard to staple closed after Nate left.

Within moments, she stood, dropping 2 one-dollar bills beside the plate, taking a sip of the pink drink in front of her and walking from the restaurant, her nose buried in her phone.

Just like she’d appeared in my life, in a flash, she was gone.

Chapter Ten

I’d left my apartment early the next morning, already positioned in front of the woman’s house when she walked from its doors. I was becoming obsessed with her, but I couldn’t stop. After Ben had gone to bed, I’d spent most of the night staring at her pictures, reading her captions, trying to picture her voice.

Over and over the question rang out in my head:why are you better than me?

This time, she was dressed like she was when I’d first seen her, in a tiny tank top and shorts. This time, though, instead of heading toward Oceanside, she drove toward downtown Crestview. The small, rundown town square boasted very few businesses, but she pulled up in front of a small beauty shop, and climbed from her car.

I slowed to a stop in the parking lot across from her, watching to see what was going to happen. The windows were tinted, but I could see her frame as she flitted across the room, taking a seat beside a woman already waiting. Shedidn’t speak to anyone, from what I could see, so I assumed they must know her there.

The shop,Sassy Snips, was small and white, with large, pink letters painted on the front windows. There was a painted picture of a pair of scissors beside the name. I dialed the number printed on the door and waited.

“Sassy Snips, this is Carolyn.” A loud, friendly voice answered the phone with laughter in her tone. Almost as if I’d caught her midway through a joke.

I cleared my throat. “Hi, um, I was wondering if you require appointments or if you take walk-ins.”

“Oh, no, hun. We take walk-ins.”

“Oh, excellent. Thank you.” I pressed the button, ending the call without saying goodbye, and stepped out of the car. When I walked into the building, I smelled bleach, masked by a floral shampoo. It was quaint and simple, concrete floors and large, bright can lights in the ceiling. There were three seats along each exterior wall and six shampoo stations in the center, back to back.

“Hi, hun, can I help you?” A blonde woman looked up from an elderly man’s haircut, scissors held at the ready.

“I…I don’t have an appointment. I just wanted to get a trim.” I twisted a piece of my auburn hair around my fingers.

“Were you the one who just called?”

I nodded.

“You got here fast, sweetie.” She laughed. “We can definitely fit you in. If you’ll just sign in down there.” She gestured toward a clipboard on the edge of a small desk. “I’ll get you going right after this.”

“Thank you,” I said, walking to the desk. Katie was against the back wall, her hair clipped at odd angles as the plump brunette stood behind her, stirring her hair dye in a small,black bowl. “You know, actually, would you have time for some highlights?” I looked back at the woman—Carolyn, I guessed.

She squinted her eyes, glancing at the clock, then leaned her head to the side and yelled across the room. “What do you think, Tosh? Do you have time for highlights? What time’s your next appointment?”