Page 102 of Tempt Me

This is insane. I feel like a crazy person. Like a snoop. This isn’t me. I need to hear what Luke has to say in person, not go behind his back.

I stand, straighten out my skirt, and take a deep breath, preparing to head back downstairs.

Then I hear it. A faint ping. Like a phone notification.

But I know for a fact that Luke’s phone is with him, downstairs. It was on the coffee table next to his teacup.

There’s another ping. It sounds like it’s coming from the duffel bag. But I checked there.

I check again and this time, as I run my hand over the inside lining, I feel something flat and hard. There’s a hidden zipper to a secret pocket.

And inside that pocket is a phone.

I pull it out with trembling hands. I’ve never seen it before—it’s an old iPhone in a simple black case. I have a brief, hopeful moment where I think maybe it’s one of his friends’ phones. But why keep it in a secret pocket? And none of his friends would own a phone this old.

As I’m staring at it, the screen lights up with a new text.

My heart thunks into my stomach and my vision blurs. For the second time today, it feels like the floor drops out from under me.

The name of the contact is SP3. I can’t think of anyone Luke knows with the initials SP. The text reads:

Hey Lukey baby. Can’t wait to feel you inside me again. Let me know when you’re free xoxo.

I scramble to unlock the phone. My first guesses for his passcode—his birthday and the jersey numbers of his three favorite Yankee players—are wrong. But then I try to think of the most juvenile, degrading passcode a cheater might use. I try 80085. The old joke boys used to use on calculators in middle school—it spells BOOBS.

The phone unlocks.

I click on the text icon and see various messages, all from senders with SP and a number next to it.

Can’t stop thinking about last night.

I’m free tonight, are you around for some fun?

There’s one that’s just a series of nudes.

Who are all these women? What does SP mean? Why are they sending him these things?

My face grows hot and tears prick my eyes. Even when looking directly at the evidence, it’s like I still can’t accept what’s happening. But it’s there, in black and white, spelled out for me. Caden was right. Luke is the liar. He’s been cheating on me. And with how many women?

I scroll and see it goes up to SP10. I can’t breathe. Things start to click into place. All those late nights working. Those last-minute trips into the city. Luke always being so understanding about my need to stay in Magnolia Bay. I thought each of us being able to live our own lives was a good thing. I thought it made our relationship stronger. I thought we both valued our independence.

Luke was using that independence to see other women.

My gaze catches on another text.

Meet me at that tiki bar.I look at the date of that one and feel like I’m pitching forward into an abyss. That was when he was on the private island. When I was sick. When he supposedly had no service.

I turn away, my stomach churning. Who is this person? How could he do this? Do these women know he’s engaged? Or is he lying to them as well? And what the hell does SP mean?

It suddenly hits me. A conversation on the yacht, a couple of months ago with Chad and Trip. Trip saying something crass that I can’t quite recall but I remember he referred to a woman as a side piece.

SP.

Side piece.

“Isla?” I hear footsteps and before I can move, Luke enters the room.

“Here you are,” he says, smiling. “What are you?—”

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