It’s a total fabrication

Rachel looks at me before I can say anything, “Don’t say anything Chandler. I got this.” She turns and looks at Phoebe. “You probably shouldn’t lie about a story when there are witnesses in the room who can refute you. I was at your wedding reception. I was pregnant—the perfect designated driver. My husband and Chandler got drunk and danced the entire night. They had to kick us out at the end. I drove their loud drunk asses home. I remember the drive vividly because they were so freaking annoying.”

I add, “I bet I can even look up the date on your wedding on my phone and prove that I never took an Uber. It sounds like you wanted me to desire you that badly that I would try to cheat on my wife.”

Caught in her lie Phoebe remains silent, and thinks of how to spin this.

I don’t give her time to come up with another lie.

I move across the couch to Phoebe. I grab her wrist, push her back and pin her small body under mine. She tries to wiggle away but I hold her down. Her head lays tilted up on the armrest. I bring my face close to hers, and ask, “Why would you tell a story where you make me seem so awful and crass? You described me doing something your husband would brag about. I am not Joey.”

“I thought it would turn you on even more, if you heard that I was so attracted to you that we almost had an affair on my wedding night,” Phoebe says.

“Lying doesn’t turn me on,” I say.

Rachel calls out excitedly, “She deserves a punishment!”

Inches from my face, Phoebe looks up at me so vulnerably. She's trying to look small and innocent. I know her better than that though.

“I agree. You deserved to be punished.”