Page 19 of Unmatched

I run my hand through my hair.

It couldn’t hurt to reply, see what else she says. Just this once.

CHAPTER TEN

I spend way too long trying to get my Unmatched profile picture right. At first, I was just going to paste in some provocative image of an anonymous woman I found online, but nothing I tried seemed to fit. One girl’s hair wasn’t the right color, I didn’t like another one’s smile, there was something strange about the last one’s boobs. It takes me a while to admit that I’m actually jealous of all of them. These random, anonymous women I’m trying to use to seduce my husband.

I want Anton to desire me. My image.

As messed up as that sounds.

After studying some other ladies’ profiles, I realize I can pull it off if I’m careful. Many of the pics those women use make their features hard to decipher. Maybe out of shame or fear of discovery, or maybe they just aren’t that pretty. It would serve the asshole men right.

I end up using a selfie I took in Caprice’s bathroom, posed to maximize cleavage and bare skin, with my face turned away, obscured behind the cascade of my hair. The shape of my jaw can be made out, a hint of my overall profile—enough to tell I’m probably nice looking—but not the details. I mess with filters until it doesn’t resemble me anymore. My hair a different shade of blonde, my skin more tan. But it is still me.

And now it’s perfect. Time to put my plan into action.

LonelyGirl8

Hey, sexy. Looking for some fun?

At first, I hold my breath, not sure he’ll even answer. Yes, he created the profile, but maybe he was only curious. Maybe he stopped there. If he just put it together, he might not have even had a chance to use it. Or...he might have already found someone to hook up with. He might’ve found several someones. Twenty minutes pass, and I’m swinging between relief and dread when a subtle alert sounds and a surge of adrenaline rushes through me.

MountainMan3

Yes. Are you?

A wave of nausea hits me. I clutch my hand to my chest too late. It’s already torn open. A sound escapes my lips, somewhere between a gasp and a cry. Caprice looks up from her laptop, alarmed.

“Lyd? What’s wrong?”

I open my mouth, trying to say words, but clamp it shut and just look at her, a tear rolling down my cheek.

She comes to peer over my shoulder, her eyes widening when she sees the screen. “MountainMan3? God, you’re messaging Anton?”

“Who else?” I croak.

“I thought you said you were going to cheat!”

“I am!” I cover my face with my hands and whimper. “With him.”

Caprice gives me a long, hard look, then her eyes soften with a measure of sadness, or maybe pity, I’ve never seen directed at me. I look away, dropping the phone into my lap, but she snatches it up and starts swiping the screen.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my nose already clogged.

She doesn’t answer right away, grabbing her notepad and jotting down a few things. Finally, she looks up, wearing her determined journalist face—though still with a hefty amount of sympathy. “When you said you wanted to get your hands dirty in the dark corners of your marriage, I didn’t realize this is what you had in mind.”

I shrug, too heartbroken to admit I actually thought he might not answer.

“As far as I’m concerned, you have two choices,” Caprice continues. “You can delete this whole thing now, forget about it, go home and call a lawyer.” She worries her lip. “Or...you can see it through.”

I raise my gaze to meet hers.

“I don’t need an exposé,” she says gently, holding up the phone so I can see Anton’s profile pic. “But if you can lure him in, I’d love to help you nail his balls to the wall.”

I stare at my husband’s smile, my brain again filling in the missing parts of the image—my arm linked with his, like a ghost outside the frame. A happy couple who ceased to exist the moment he cropped me out. I look at Caprice and swallow. “Let’s do it.”

She nods with a grim smile, taps out a message on my screen, then hands it back so I can send it myself.

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