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Chapter SEVEN

KATIE

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I lie in bed, winded, worn out, and still trembling after welcome home sex with Eric. I wiped the sweat from my brow right before I reached for the bottle of water I placed on the nightstand. What do you know—empty!

Eric surprised me last night when I heard his key jingle in the lock. I thought I was dreaming, so I didn’t move. First, I heard him in the kitchen; then, his footsteps became closer as he headed up the staircase. I still didn’t move. I felt paralyzed. Immobile. Motionless. I couldn’t believe he was here. He said he wouldn’t be home for another day or two, so I wasn’t expecting him.

Eric quickly entered our bedroom and headed right for me. Instead of a, “Hi, honey, I’m home!” he rushed my lifeless body as existence started pumping through me. I could breathe again because Eric was home. I could exhale now because I could touch him—feel his warm flesh that started crawling all over my body. My vagina released before he even entered me. I was so wet, my sex dripping for him.

Eric plunged deep inside me as his big strong hands started strumming my frame. I was going wild. I couldn’t control myself any longer, so I released down his shaft with his tongue stirring in and out of my mouth. He made love to me and didn’t stop until I begged for mercy.

As I sit here reminiscing about the passionate hours spent with Eric, I clutch our sheets close, listening to the shower water spray. I can just imagine his lean body bathing on the other side of the glass shower doors. My thoughts of joining him were interrupted by my cell phone that started buzzing. It was probably Kyle or Epiphany calling to apologize. I thought it’s about time. I haven’t spoken to either of them since my little bathroom breakdown over a week ago.

When I reached for my phone, I could still hear vibration because It wasn’t my phone buzzing, it was Eric’s cell on the nightstand next to my empty water bottle. I laid my phone back down and picked his up. His screen told me he had a new picture waiting to be opened. The little mailbox on his screen was calling my name. I just had to open it to see who would be sending Eric a picture, especially this time of night. On second thought, I’m not going to invade his privacy. I’ll just ask him about it when he gets out of the shower.

As I’m holding his phone, it vibrated again. Another picture? Who the hell is this from?

I exhaled. “What am I doing?” After I asked myself that question aloud, I cracked a smile at how foolish I was acting. Paranoid was more of the word. Eric has never shown me any signs of unfaithfulness, so I had nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing to . . . be . . . Screw that! I had to open this picture mail. Second thought, maybe I shouldn’t. What if it’s just his Aunt Ollie from Toledo sending him another family photo again? It’s harmless, I thought until the third picture came through. Before I could catch myself, I tapped the screen where the mailbox flashed.

Oh-my-God! I couldn’t believe my eyes. What . . . why? . . . I was at a loss. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Was his phone locked? I couldn’t believe it. Why is Eric’s phone locked? He’s never locked his phone before. At least I don’t think he has. I’ve never had a reason to go through his phone before now. I sigh before I placed his phone back down. It was just his Aunt or some other family member sending him something crazy. Probably another one of those chain picture text thingies’.

I sat on the bed with my legs crossed. I tried to remain calm, but I couldn’t. Why is his phone on vibrate? And locked? What is he hiding? Who is he hiding? I jumped up and headed for the bathroom door. I needed answers now! I didn’t want to wait until his shower was over. I became furious! I was so upset I was shaking. I wanted to kill my husband. He was hiding something from me, and I wanted to know what. I had to know what. I had to see the pictures that were about to run us into divorce court and me into an insane asylum.

I turned from the bathroom door and headed back for Eric’s phone. I picked it up again, but the screen still read Locked. The second I touched the screen, it asked me for a passcode. I instantly started racking my brain, thinking, what could it be?

I tried his birthday, 1-0-0-9-8-5, but that didn’t work.

I thought I’d try the year he was born, 1-9-8-5.

No luck. Damnit!

I tried our street address, 4-8-8-2.

My old apartment street address, 1-2-1-4.

I tried the last four of his social security number.

My social security number.

His shoe size.

My shoe size.

I’m running out of time and numbers, but I couldn’t stop now. I had to see these pictures!

I then tried the year we were married and still came up empty-handed.

I tried the year we met . . . still nothing.

Eric, what is it! I tried the last four digits of his cell number, our house phone number, then my cell number, but nothing worked. I’m locked out of my husband’s cell, but I’m determined to get in. I’m going to crack this code if it’s the last thing I do. I need to see these pictures!

My intuitions were on overload. Something didn’t feel right, and I was about to get to the bottom of it.

What could this code be, Eric . . . what is your lock code, damnit! Right then, my thumb landed on 1-9-9-0, and that’s when it happened: The screen unlocked.

The year I was born, of course! I felt relieved and a little flattered that Eric would use my birth year as his passcode. I thought, aww that’s so cute, but back to the matter at hand.

That envelope was waiting for me, and I was more than ready to open it, but I didn’t get a chance to because Eric was standing in the doorway of our bedroom, dripping wet with a towel wrapped around the lower part of his muscular body. I could see the look of anger in his eyes. He was livid just as I was a few seconds ago.

His jagged voice stormed toward me when he yelled out, “Katie, what are you doing with my phone?!”