Caught In The Lie

Katrina's POV

I was starting to regret this decision already.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror one last time. A dark brown bob wig, completely different from my usual blonde ponytail, and an oversized sunglasses that kept sliding down the bridge of my nose no matter how many times I pushed them back up. Did I even need to mention the floral gown on me right now? 

This thing looked like I'd picked it up from the lost and found.

I look even more ridiculous now.

Like the stay-at-home appearance wasn't any more infuriating, ugh! But I couldn't risk Adrian recognizing me before I saw the truth for myself.

Adrian didn't pick my calls last night. I figured once could be a mistake, but four times and a voicemail right up?

Exhaustion slowly crawled over me from working all day, and soon, I didn't know what to believe anymore. My instincts, or that my husband was probably really working overtime.

I barely winked a sleep as I stayed in bed. And when he finally stumbled through the door around 2AM, reeking of whiskey and some cheap perfume I didn't recognize, he'd mumbled something about Christian coming over for a celebration at the office. A big account closing. The team going out for drinks and his phone dying afterwards.

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him so badly that I almost let myself sink into the familiar comfort of denial. 

Almost.

Did he just say Christian? As in Christian Blackwood? Sarah's husband?

My eyes opened wide enough for an idea to spark in my head, then waited for him to crash out before finally making a move.

I made my way into the restroom and dialed the last person's number I wanted, but this was the only time I could really find out who was lying.

So, I did it. 

I called Christian at freaking two in the morning.

And surprisingly, he answered almost immediately. As if he'd been up the whole time.

“Katrina Harts.” He whispered, his voice low but husky and deep as my name rolled off his tongue like something sweet. I held my breath as an unfamiliar shiver ran down my spine. “Aren’t you afraid that your husband will find out speaking to another man by this hour?”

“I…I…” I stuttered, my face turning red a bit as I quickly corrected him, “I'm not doing anything wrong, Mr Blackwood, and I can call anyone anytime I want.”

I could've sworn I'd heard him chuckle. Regardless, I took a deep breath and admitted, “I need to know something, that's why I called.”

“I'm listening, Kat.” His voice quickly dropped to a gentle, but serious tone.

There it was again. That feeling.

I shook it and immediately focused on my purpose here.

“Did you…no, were you with Adrian last night at some kind of celebration?” I asked, my voice barely over a whisper as I clenched my hands into a fist. I sounded ridiculous, but it was too late to take it back now.

Christian went silent immediately, and I could already tell that something was wrong from the soft curses that slipped out of his lips.

“I wasn't, Kat.” 

My eyes widened instantly, but the dreadful feeling didn't stop there.

“Sarah wasn't home last night and told me that you both went on a girls' night and I shouldn't interfere.”

“Excuse me?” I whisper-yelled, my jaw dropping at the outrageous accusations, “Adrian was the one who decided to bury himself in work out there! She told me she was out of town yesterday.”

“Just as I suspected, we've both been played. Now, tell me, Kat,” He started, his tone wavering with disappointment and disbelief, “do you still believe your husband is innocent?”

“I…”

“He's meeting her today.” 

“What?”

“Family restaurant on the fifth street. One o'clock. Go see for yourself, then maybe you'll understand how cunning those two can really be.” He revealed, his tone laced with pain and anger.

I was too stunned to speak for minutes, frozen in thoughts as the silence in the restroom only grew thicker and more suffocating as morning slowly drew closer.

“Goodnight Kat. If you need me again, don't hesitate to reach out.” There was a hint of exhaustion in his voice as small movements followed him, “We both need to sleep against noon, we can't catch the cheaters if we keep bumping into doors.”

A small bitter laugh escaped my lips as I whispered back to him, “Goodnight, Christian.”

The sound of an alarm snapped me out of the memory instantly, drawing my attention to the timer on my phone.

“Oh shoot, it's almost one. I better leave now. Adrian's been gone for what? An hour if I'm correct.”

The plan was to be unrecognisable. In the oddest way possible.

Within minutes, I'd arrived at the address.

The restaurant's air conditioning hit me like a slap when I pushed through the front door. Cold air, the smell of cooked foods and desserts, the sound of children laughing and couples chatting—the sight pulled me into a memory that tasted sour on the tip of my tongue now. 

This was where Leo had his first birthday.

A hostess walked over and smiled at me, asking if I wanted a table for one.

"I'm just meeting someone," I said, forcing my voice to sound as bland and vague as my appearance.

I didn't need to even look so hard before I found him. My sweet, lying husband.

Adrian sat in a corner booth near the back, his back to the door, his broad shoulders hunched over a menu. He looked too relaxed and comfortable like a man who had absolutely nothing to hide.

My heart pounded faster against my ribs as I slid into a booth two tables away, positioning myself so I could see his face in profile. The sunglasses stayed on the whole time, I didn't want to risk anything.

I ordered water from a passing waitress just to have something to do with my hands.

A few minutes passed, and I had enough.

I was about to stand up. About to walk over there and demand answers. About to confront him right here and turn this peaceful restaurant into a graveyard.

But then, something froze me in my place midway. A familiar voice.

"Mom! Can I get the chocolate chip pancakes?"

Leo?

I turned my stare to his direction, my chest tightening with shock when I realized he wasn't looking at me at all.

He was calling someone else mum.

And that “mum” was holding his hands and leading him towards the seats next to Adrian.

Oh God, please tell me I'm seeing wrong! Tell me the shades aren't making my eyes work right now!

Leo bounced in his seat with excitement, holding an empty cone in his hand as Sarah draped her arm casually over the back of the booth, intentionally around Adrian's back.

Okay, Katrina. Maybe they just wanted to have a…discussion. I mean, I had one with Christian. This shouldn't be anything weird, right?

But your best friend shouldn't wear a red sundress that showed off her cleavage in your husband's face, shouldn't make her hair extra shiny and pulled up her shoulders for attention on her neck, and your best friend sure as heck shouldn't look at your husband the way she was doing right now.

They must have said something already. I wasn't listening. I was too angry to hear what they said.

Not when she looked like she belonged there—right in his arms like this was her family. Like I was actually the other woman in my own marriage.

"Of course, sweetie," Sarah said, reaching over to ruffle Leo's hair. "Anything you want."

My stomach lurched at the forced sweetness in her words. I pressed my palm flat against the table, trying to stop myself from launching at them, trying to remember how to breathe without drawing attention to my table.

Adrian laughed at something Sarah said, his hand reaching across the table to rest on top of hers. The gesture was so casual, so intimate, so…familiar. 

How many times has he touched her like that? How many times have I been at home, playing housewife while they played the happy family together?

"She's so boring now," Adrian said, and I realized with horror that they were talking about me. "It's like she forgot how to be a woman. All she cares about is Leo's homework and whether the dishes are done."

Sarah made a sympathetic noise, caressing his cheeks with a pout. "That must be so hard for you."

"You have no idea." Adrian shook his head, his voice dropping lower into disgust. "We barely have sex anymore. And when she tries to initiate, I just... I can't. I can’t even remember the last time I actually wanted her. I make up excuses. It's not hard when she always believes me."

If faces could be a fruit, I bet mine would be as a tomato right now. I squeezed the bottle of water in my hands as my face flushed at his confession.

The humiliation crawled down my throat like alcohol, stinging with realization at the memories slowly pulling through. So…everytime I told myself that he was only exhausted and irritated because of work, he'd been fucking my best friend the whole time?

"I bet she doesn't even own anything sexy," Sarah said, her voice dripping with contempt. "Can you imagine? A woman her age wearing cotton granny panties?"

They both laughed. Leo laughed too, but it was obvious he didn't understand what was funny. He was just happy to be included.

I stood up so fast the table rattled. My water glass tipped over, spilling across the checkered tablecloth, but I didn't stop to clean it up. 

I couldn't. 

I was already moving, briskly walking away and pushing through the crowd towards the restroom at the back of the restaurant.

The door swung shut behind me, and I locked myself in the farthest stall, my back pressed against the cold metal wall. Immediately I was alone, the hot, burning tears trickled down my face fast, ruining whatever makeup I'd applied that morning. 

I bit down on my fist to keep from sobbing out loud. 

How long has this been going on? How long has my husband and my best friend been laughing at me behind my back? 

And what…even my own child wants my own best friend to be his mother?

The sound of the restroom door opening caught me off guard as I quickly cleaned some stray tears with the edge of my sleeves.

I swallowed, about to call out that someone was still inside, when I heard kissing, followed by a very familiar moan.

Don't tell me…

"Oh god, Adrian," she breathed, her voice thick with desperation. "I've been thinking about this all day."

"Fuck, you're so wet already," Adrian growled, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled down. A belt clinking on the floor as clothes went all over the place.

I could see his shoes….from right under my stall. I pressed my hand over my mouth, tears still streaming down my face, as the sounds of their passion filled the small restroom.

Kissing. Wet, sloppy kissing. The thud of a body being pushed against the wall. Sarah's breathy little gasps.

"Right there," she panted. "Oh fuck, right there. Your cock feels so good inside me."

Adrian grunted. "You're still tighter than she ever was. Nothing like Katrina. She’s always so dry and quiet. Like fucking a dead fish. God, I love fucking you."

The stall door rattled as they stumbled against it, and I pulled my feet up onto the toilet seat, making myself as small as possible. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears, drowning out everything except the obscene slap of skin against skin.

"Remember the car?" Sarah gasped in breathy moans. "When you came all over the backseat?"

"Fuck yes. I had to tell her I got it detailed."

"She'll never know. She's too stupid to notice anything."

The words hit me like physical blows. 

The car.

The red lace thong I'd found hidden in the folds. It really was Sarah's. It had been Sarah's the whole time.

"I wonder what she'd do if she found out," Sarah moaned, her voice rising in pitch. "If she knew her husband was fucking her best friend in a public restroom."

"She'd probably cry," Adrian said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Then she'd forgive me. She always does."

"You're so mean."

"Well, this mean man is about to fuck your senses out."

The sounds intensified after his words. Sarah's moans became high-pitched and desperate. Adrian's grunts became more raspy and thicker for more. The stall door shook with the force of their fucking, and I sat there on the toilet seat, my hand pressed so hard against my mouth that I tasted blood.

"Don't stop," Sarah begged. "Please don't stop. I'm so close. I'm so fucking close."

"Come for me," Adrian growled. "Come on my cock like the dirty little slut you are."

They finished fast and messy; his groan low and satisfied as I heard the wet sound of him pulling out, the soft splat of something dripping onto the floor, then the rustle of clothes being fixed.

"We should get back," Sarah said, her voice lazy and satisfied. "Leo's probably wondering where we went."

"Let him wonder. He thinks you're his real mom anyway."

They both laughed, and then the door opened and closed, and I was alone. Again.

I don't know how long I sat there, replaying the nightmare in my head.

Minutes. 

Hours. 

I went from a crying mess to a cold, numbed disaster within hours. And when I finally unlocked the stall door and stumbled to the sink, the face that stared back at me in the mirror was barely recognizable.

Mascara streaked down my cheeks like black tears. My lipstick was smeared. The wig sat crooked on my head, and my eyes were red and swollen.

I couldn't go back out there. I couldn't face them. I couldn't face anyone.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

A text from Christian: Underground parking lot. Now.

I stared at the message for a while, my fingers trembling. He knew. Somehow, he knew exactly where I was and exactly what I'd just seen.

Another buzz.

I'm waiting. And Katrina?

I know how you feel. Trust me.