One Week

by Roya Carmen

  I smile playfully. “I know,” I say quietly, my voice a little huskier than I’d intended.

  “Ummmm…” he says. He’s a clever boy — he knows what I’m getting at.

  A slow grin stretches across his lovely face, and it’s ‘that smile’, the one that makes my panties wet. “You’re a bad girl.”

  “I know.”

  If John thinks we’re keeping our hands off each other, he’s seriously mistaken.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  AS PROMISED, ELI SENDS ME a list of attractions to research, and it does help. It fills my head with the possibilities of the future, instead of the heartbreaks of the past. I’m getting really excited about this trip… this little adventure. I’m really not sure if something is going to happen between Eli and I, not sure if I’m ready, not sure if he wants to get tangled up in my drama. A man like him could probably get some whenever he feels like it. Why would he want me and all my baggage? But then again, maybe that’s exactly what the attraction is. He can have a fling, and after a week, I fly back to America – no strings, no commitment worries.

  I’ve made a list of things I want to see and do: Nyhavn of course, the touristy spot with all the colorful buildings and boats, and cycling in Amager Beach Park (it’s the thing to do). I also want to sit at a bistro and people watch, visit Eli’s studio, and see the Little Mermaid statue and the Queen’s winter castle. I also want to climb up one of those old towers and see the city from high above. And on the top of my list: Tivoli Gardens.

  The days have not been moving fast enough. I go through the motions, but I’m only halfway there. I seriously need to get this trip over with, so I can be present for my family again. The anticipation is slowly robbing me of my sanity.

  John has been a model husband; helping with the kids and around the house, picking up groceries, driving the kids to their activities. I can see he’s really trying, and I do want this to work out, and I’m convinced that it will. I can already see us in the future; happy, just like we were years ago. They say that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Perhaps the bumps in our marriage will only make us stronger.

  I’m heading to lunch with the girls, just about to climb into my car when my phone pings. There’s a new message from Eli. Every time I hear from him, my whole body buzzes with excitement — it never fails. I laugh out loud when I see the photo he’s sent me. It’s a banana with sunglasses digitally inserted on a bicycle, cruising happily through the streets of Copenhagen. The banana has stick arms and legs, long hair, and is even wearing a purple hat and red heels, drawn in with a Sharpie.

  Is that supposed to be me? Lol! You are too funny!

  I drive to the restaurant with a stupid grin on my face the whole way. I finally get to read his reply when I get there. I’m still buzzing.

  Of course, it’s you. Look how stylish she is.

  —

  You have too much time on your hands. :)

  —

  I know… I’m just so excited to see you.

  It’s what I love about Eli. He doesn’t play games. He’s not afraid to show his emotions, to be vulnerable. I think that’s why I like him so much. Well, that and those eyes of his. That smile, and… all of it.

  I eagerly walk into our spot, full of excitement. I’m wearing heels and a pretty blue wraparound dress — I always dress up to meet the girls because it’s the only time I get to, save for the occasional dinner or trip with John and the kids. Our spot is a little cozy restaurant which serves only breakfast and lunch. They make an amazing white egg spinach omelet, and the best fudge and butter tarts ever known to man.

  We are so predictable. I always have the chicken burger with brie and apricot jam. Corrie always gets the quiche, Kayla gets the omelet, and Maeve usually gets crêpes topped with fruit and whipped cream.

  “Hey girls,” I cheer. I’m the last one there, which is unusual. But I guess that’s what happens when you’re busy texting your sexy foreign crush.

  “Look at you,” Corrie says. “You look amazing. You’re glowing.”

  “You’re not pregnant, are you?” Kayla jokes.

  “Um… no,” I wince. “My life is complicated enough, thank you very much.”

  “Are you excited?” Maeve asks.

  “Yes,” I say, the word small. I feel vulnerable, like they can all read my mind, and can see how crazy I’ve become. I’m generally the sensible one. Maeve is the playful, child-like one, Kayla is the free-spirit, Corrie is the wild, fiery one, and I’m the wise one who always makes the right decisions.

  What in the hell has happened to me?

  We talk about me, of course. Everyone seems to have forgotten all about Maeve’s upcoming nuptials. It’s all about me now. They’re all living vicariously through me. When I show them the photo of the banana, they all crack up.

  “So this guy is not only hot, he’s funny too,” Corrie says. “Lethal combination, sweetie.”

  “She’ll never want to come back,” Kayla adds.

  “I’ll miss the kids,” I point out. I don’t mention John. “One week should be plenty.”

  A wide grin stretches across Corrie’s face. She sets down her fork, next to her half-eaten quiche, and digs into her oversized purse. “I know this isn’t an official meeting,” she says. “But I’ve cooked up a little something for Gabs, a poem.”

  Kayla laughs. “I didn’t realize you were a poet, Corrie.”

  She smirks. “I’m not.” She really isn’t. Corrie’s journal entries could best be described as rants. She’s always going on about something.

  She clears her throat, and starts.

  I have a friend,

  Who is heading off to Copenhagen.

  Flying off and facing danger,

  To meet a handsome stranger.

  Seriously?! We all giggle like school girls.

  She’ll walk the cobblestone streets.

  Do a little shopping.

  And have lots of fun,

  Between the sheets.

  Kayla cracks up, and Maeve smirks. I’m riveted.

  She’ll wear a cozy coat.

  And ride on the boats.

  She’ll cuddle close and tight,

  And kiss him under the moonlight.

  I’m so jealous.

  Seriously, I’m green with envy.

  I’ll be here.

  And she’ll be there,

  Getting some booty.

  Corrie finishes with a bow.

  “Wow, I think that was the worst poem I’ve ever heard,” Kayla struggles to say between laughs. “You’re too funny, Corrie.”

  “Booty?... really?!” I chime in.

  Corrie shrugs. “It’s the only word I could think of that rhymes with ‘envy’.

  I smirk and shake my head. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

  Maeve smiles. “It’s only for a week.”

  Yes, one week.

  That’s all I get.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  TWO DAYS.

  In two days, I’ll be in Copenhagen. I can’t quite believe this is all happening. Just a few months ago, my life was normal. Now I’m packing and jetting off to Europe to meet a gorgeous almost-stranger, and possibly… I can’t even go there. It all seems so surreal.

  My phone pings again — another funny photo from Eli. This time, the banana is sitting on a boat. I laugh out loud. So far, Mrs. Banana has been seen cycling, browsing at a bookstore, eating a hotdog, and boating on the canal. She always wears the purple hat and the red heels.

  No one makes me smile like you, I write.

  He sends me a happy face.

  Well, not quite true. My kids make me smile too. They’re pretty funny.

  —

  They seem very sweet.

  —

  Do you have a thing for red heels?

  —

  Yep, you got me.

  —

  Who makes you smile?

  I watch the dots anxiously, curious.

  You… Floyd, and m
y buddy, Trevor… he’s hilarious. Are you busy packing? he asks. Remember, lots of warm clothes. It’s still cold here.

  —

  Yes, Sir. I’ve packed my sparkly scarf, fall jacket, gloves, and riding boots.

  I’ve checked off my list, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got everything; casual clothing, pretty underwear, dresses, heels, and even…

  I grab the black negligee, and rub the silky material between my fingers. Just the thought of wearing this for him arouses me. I’m suddenly feeling bold.

  I video call him. I know exactly what I’m doing, and I also know that I probably shouldn’t be doing it.

  “Hi,” he says. “It’s nice to see you.”

  “I know,” I say. “We don’t video chat often.”

  “And who’s to blame for that?!” he teases.

  “Well, you know I don’t like to chat in front of John, and the kids… it would just confuse them.”

  “They obviously don’t know about me,” he says, and I can see in the line of his brow, in the downturn of his mouth, that this hurts him.

  It does seem crazy that they know nothing about this person who is such a big part of my life. Something about it doesn’t sit right. He’s such a wonderful person — I’m sure they would love him if they met him. In about nine days from now, I’ll be ending things with Eli… just the thought of that feels so heavy. I try not to think about it.

  “So,” I say, playfully changing the subject. “Do you want to see what I’ve packed?”

  He smiles wide. “Sure, would love to.”

  I set my phone against my headboard, and I pull out a red dress, and hold it up for him, followed by a cozy cardigan.

  “Nice…” he says. “I can’t wait to see you in that dress.”

  Next, I pull out the red shoes. “I know how you have a thing for red heels,” I tease. “Sorry, I don’t have a purple hat.”

  He laughs.

  I bite my lip. I’m about to be very naughty. I slowly untangle the nightie out of the hodgepodge of clothing. I hold it up for him to see. It’s pretty; black, spaghetti straps, lace trim, and silk.

  His eyes darken. “Wow…” he whispers.

  Warm heat travels through my core at the sight of him — I know he’s turned on. “Do you want to see the matching panties?” I ask. I’m teasing him, and I’m loving every second of it.

  He bites his lip. “I do.” he says, his voice is different; huskier than, not quite as soft as it usually is. And the way he’s looking at me…

  The panties are hotter than the top. They’re all lace, skimpy but not quite a thong. They’re sexy but tasteful. I stretch them between my fingers, and smile at him.

  He closes his eyes and leans slowly back in his chair. A languid, mischievous smile curves his lips. “You’re killing me, Gabriella.”

  His eyes are still closed when I tell him, “You’re killing me too. Just the way you’re leaning back like that. Your t-shirt is riding up, your jeans are low on your hips. Your tattoos are…” I run out of breath. Fuck, he’s hot, and I’m so damn aroused.

  He finally opens his eyes. “Show me the shoes again.”

  I grab the Mary-Jane red heels by the strap.

  “I want you to wear those with the lingerie,” he says, suddenly very bossy.

  I laugh. “Yes, Sir.”

  I close my eyes. I’m definitely sleeping with this man. It’s not a question of if, it’s a question of when.

  The ride to the airport is long, and silent. John’s satellite radio plays in the background, top 40 hits, but I don’t really hear any of the songs. My mind is too full of everything; Eli, the kids... and John. I feel like I’m at a crossroads. Could I turn around and not do this? Or is it too late? I’m sure that John would be more than happy to drive me back home. Am I making the worst mistake of my life?

  The kids were confused when I tried to explain why I was going to Europe. “I’m going to have an adventure,” I told them. “I’m going to take lots of pictures for inspiration for my paintings.”

  “Do you need a break from us,” Emma asked. I smiled at her and told her that I just needed a little bit of time to myself. I hate lying to them. I hate keeping them in the dark, but they’re much too young to know the truth. I hate lying and telling Emma that Daddy is sleeping in the guest room because he has a cold, and snores too loudly.

  But when I get back from this trip, I’ll invite John back to our bed. It might be a long time until we make love, but I’m determined to work on our marriage, for the kids. It is the least I could do for them. They never have to know that anything was amiss. They’re too young to know how complicated life can get. They’ll learn that soon enough, I’m sure.

  When we finally make it to check-in, after much fuss, I fiddle through my purse for my passport and airline ticket — thankfully, everything’s in order. My life might be a complete emotional mess, but I typically have it together when it comes to this kind of thing. My fingers are shaking, and I feel like I might vomit. My colorful striped suitcase is handed to the friendly check-in attendant — it weighs in just under the limit. I smile at John. “Told you it was good.”

  He grins. “I’m shocked.”

  We walk silently to security.

  Before I line up in the queue, I stop and turn to him. I know this is killing him. He rubs at the back of his neck and tugs at his short hair, runs a hand over his face. He’s restless and angry, but desperately trying to keep it together for my sake. He looks nice; dark jeans and a plain white tee. He’s been wonderful today; made homemade pizza for the kids while I finished packing, and took care of all the babysitting arrangements, and now he’s driven all this way to bring me here, so I could hop on a plane, fly across the Atlantic, and fuck another guy. How fucked up is that?

  “Thank you,” I say quietly.

  He reaches for my hand, and takes it in his. His skin is warm, and sends a tingle through me. It’s been so long since we’ve touched. Even after all he’s done, I still love him, and I still want him. He’s still beautiful and still gives me butterflies. I hate myself for that, but I’m also thankful for it because I want this to work between us. I don’t want our perfect family to fall apart over one stupid ill-advised affair.

  “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” he says. “It hasn’t hit me yet, but I know it will.”

  “You understand why I need to do this?”

  He nods but can’t quite look at me. “I do,” he says, but I can see how hard this is for him. He’s trying so hard.

  I inch closer and wrap my arms around his torso. He slowly reciprocates. It feels right to be in his arms after all this time. “It’s only for one week,” I remind him.

  “Promise me that it will be over in a week,” he says. “You need to promise me or I won’t be able to let you go.”

  I look up at him. I so badly want this to work. “I promise.”

  “You’ll end things with him after the trip?” he asks. “No more contact?”

  My heart sinks at the thought. I can’t imagine doing this to Eli, but I know he’ll understand. He’s young and gorgeous, and he’ll find someone else. “Yes, no more contact. It’s what we agreed on, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s the only reason I’m letting you do this.”

  I smile up at him. “Pretty fucked up arrangement we’ve got going on, isn’t it?”

  A slow grin creeps up on him. Even though he’s probably so angry at me, I can still make him smile. “Yeah,” he agrees.

  He gives me another hug and I melt into him. “I love you, Gabbie.”

  My stomach feels so heavy. I can’t say the words he wants to hear — I’m still too hurt. I pull away, and gaze up at his striking eyes; the color of a tropical summer sky. The first time I looked into those eyes, I fell in love instantly. “I can’t… you’ve hurt me too much, John.”

  “I know,” he says. “And I know that a million sorrys aren’t enough. I don’t expect you to love me again right now… we’ll need to work toward
that when you come back.”

  “We will… I promise.”

  I pull away, my heart completely wrenched. There’s a huge lump lodged in my throat, and my eyes sting, but I’m determined to hold it together. I cannot lose it in the middle of an airport, surrounded by strangers. “Bye,” I say.

  “Bye, Gabbie.”

  I turn around, and I don’t look back.

  Part Three

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  THE FLIGHT IS NOT EXACTLY PLEASANT, but thankfully I have a window seat. There’s a crying baby a few rows back, and it seems like I need to get up and pee every five minutes — it’s the nerves, surely. I apologize to my seatmates profusely every time I need to get up. I try to read, but it’s no use — I can’t focus long enough to get into the story. All I can think about is Eli. I play mindless games on my phone, and pop a ZzzQuil and manage to sleep a few hours.

  I’m groggy and nauseous when we finally land. It’s a new day in Denmark, and everyone seems cheery. I, on the other hand, want to curl up in a corner and get more sleep. I’ve never been the greatest traveler, and this trip is no exception.

  I’m pleasantly surprised by how nice the airport is; dark floors and pleasing lighting. It beats any airport I’ve ever seen. There are loads of stores selling watches and Danish chocolate. I don’t have time to buy any chocolates because I’m following the crowd from my flight. I figure they’ll lead me to where I need to be.

  Following customs, I trail the crowds. I study every single face I encounter, looking for Eli. He’s close.

  Everyone here is so attractive and stylish. I feel very frumpy in my black leggings, loose Star Wars t-shirt, comfy flats, green jacket, and oversized handbag.