Page 18 of One Week
“I’m taking you there, gorgeous,” he whispers between labored breaths.
I close my eyes, and I see Eli. I don’t push the image away. I don’t need to. That’s all it is — an image. Just a photo of a man who doesn’t exist. A photo of a beautiful man, taken who knows where, by who knows whom.
A fantasy.
Chapter Eight
“HOLY SHIT,” Corrie says.
“He has really nice eyes.” Maeve chimes in.
“I know, right?” I stare at the photo, not quite knowing what to think. Is he real, or not? I wish I knew.
“You should make that photo your phone wallpaper,” Kayla jokes.
Maeve laughs. “I don’t think John would like that too much,” she points out.
I smile and don’t tell them about the painting of the boats I now see every day when I turn on my phone. With a few taps, I replace the photo with one of the kids. Enough with this guy, already.
Corrie cocks a brow. “You should be careful with this guy,” she warns me, yet again.
“C’mon,” Kayla says. “It’s harmless. He’s just a guy on the other side of the world. He lives in Denmark, right?”
I nod. “Corrie’s right,” I concede. “I’m done with this guy. I’ve been kind of acting like a silly teenager.”
Kayla grins. “Don’t beat yourself up, Gabbie. Just because you’re a wife and a mother, doesn’t mean you’re not a person. You want to have fun, get excited, feel special… it’s normal. Maybe this guy is an escape for you. As long as you realize that, you’re fine.”
That’s so typical of Kayla — she always has words of wisdom to offer. She’s the most grounded one out of the four of us. I always say that she should have been a therapist, and she says that she kind of is when she listens to her massage clients yap about everything and anything as she kneads their bodies. And she always ends her yoga classes with five or ten minutes of meditation.
“Let’s Google him,” Corrie pipes up, a Cheshire cat grin stretched across her face. “What’s his name?”
I shake my head. “Eli Kelly,” I tell her. I don’t admit that I’ve already creeped him, and found nothing.
She taps away on her phone. She bites her lip as she peruses the results. Maeve and Kayla watch her intently, awaiting eagerly.
She shakes her head. “I’m not finding anything. A few results but they don’t seem to be him. This guy is a ghost… I think I was right. He doesn’t exist.”
I let out a long sigh, and try not to get angry at Corrie. She’s just being a friend, and trying to help.
“Here you go,” Rachel says cheerfully as she sets down our slices of pie. We usually only take coffee or tea, the occasional cookie, but today we’re going all out — it’s Corrie’s thirty-fifth birthday, and we’re celebrating.
“Thank you,” I say to Rachel. “The pie looks delicious.”
I turn to my friends. “Seriously, Enough about me. It’s Corrie’s day.”
* * *
It’s been over a week since I’ve had any contact with Eli. I haven’t seen any posts, haven’t stalked him, and to my dismay, there were no likes or comments from him on my stuff. I mentally pat myself on the shoulder — I’ve done good. I’m normal again.
I’m grocery shopping at Walmart, standing in the middle of the toilet paper isle, checking to see which brands are on sale. I throw a pack of Charmin in the cart with all my other stuff. I think I have everything I need. I dig into my purse for my shopping list, and check my phone while I’m at it.
My heart does a flip when I see a message from him. Curiosity gets the best of me and I instantly check it.
I thought I’d show you what I do.
There’s a link to a video below. I watch it, of course — grocery shopping can wait.
I’m completely engrossed. The video ishot!!! In more ways than one. He’s wearing faded jeans and a dirty white t-shirt, and wields a long steel pole. He’s also wearing these heavy duty protective glasses, and a tuque. I study the shape of his body — he’s tall, and all lean muscle. I can’t help but stare at the curves of his shoulders and arms as he works the pole.
