I took a moment to gather my thoughts as I looked through the pictures. It was taking everything in me not to snap at the woman who sat on the opposite side of the diner table. Shit, I needed a damn drink.

“Look, you hired me to do the job and I did just th—.”

“Don’t, just don’t.” I stated simply, cutting the private investigator off mid-sentence.

The pictures that were spreaded out before me showed none other than my fiancée, Lauren, who was for some reason kissing another man while holding a child. Seriously, what type of soap opera shit has this engagement turned into.

I suspected her being guilty of something, but as far as cheating, not really. I honestly thought the evidence would’ve shown her being a serial killer, due to some of her clothes having red streaks whenever I went to wash them or the small shed that she recently built in our backyard, which she had forbidden me from ever stepping foot into.

Granted, we’d only known each other for two months before she suddenly popped the question. Which wasn’t weird in my opinion; two months basically felt like two years, in lesbian years, of course.

“Look, Ms.Langford—.”

I sighed. “Just call me Tatum; the formality isn’t needed.”

Even though I was highly pissed off, it wasn’t the private investigators fault that my future “wife” was a cheating piece of shit. Hell, she was just only doing her job.

The blond haired woman cleared her throat. “Well, um, Tatum. I’ve been doing work like this for the past five years now, and I’ve came to the realization that your fiancée has the same thing in common with everyone else.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?” I rested my back against the red leather seat as I made direct eye contact with the investigator.

“Usually, we don’t really know the people we lay down with. Well, in your case, get engaged to. Most people can be married to a person for years and not be aware of the secrets that are being hidden from them, basically to sum it all up. You don’t know your fiancée like you thought you did, and she’s not who she says she is.”

I raised an eyebrow at the last statement. “What do you mean by, she’s not who she says she is?”

My life was starting to feel like a Wattpad book the more shit I kept finding out. Damn, who did I get engaged to? and why didn’t I see the red flags sooner?

The investigator called a waitress over to our table, ordering a beer for each of us, before turning her attention back onto me. “We’re going to be here for a minute and that drink—you’re going to need it.”