The Perfect Stranger (Social Media #2)(115)

Gaby sighs and pastes on a grin.

“You just look like you’re squinting.”

“I am squinting.” They’ve been here so long that the sun has changed position, glaring directly into her eyes. “How about if I just turn the other way?” She gestures over her shoulder, preferring to face the clump of trees behind her rather than the parade of New Yorkers jogging, strolling, and rolling past on the adjacent pathway.

“No, I need the light on your face. Here, just take a few steps this way . . . no, not that far, back a little, back . . . back . . . okay, good!”

A pair of long-haired teenagers roll past on skateboards.

“Say cheese!” one of them calls.

Gaby shakes her head at Maria, who is raising the viewfinder to her eye again. “Okay, smile . . . without clenching your teeth.”

“Maria, I swear—”

“Remember, Mami—” her cousin cuts in, using the Latina term of endearment, “you’re trying to attract the perfect guy with this picture. Trust me, he’s not going to be interested if you—”

“Okay, first of all, the perfect guy doesn’t exist.”

“Not true.” Maria shakes her head, her dark ringlets bobbing around her shoulders. “He exists. But he doesn’t know you exist. Yet. And he won’t unless you let me take a picture that captures the real you.”

The real me . . .

Gaby has no idea who that even is these days, other than knowing that the real Gabriella, who once laughed her way through life, doesn’t seem to remember how to smile anymore.

She hasn’t felt remotely like herself since last summer before she and Ben split up. After five years of marriage—and three years together before that—life without him was frighteningly unfamiliar. Even now, she begins every day with the momentarily frantic feeling that she’s woken up in a strange body in a strange place, having swapped someone else’s life for her own.

Then again, she really hasn’t felt like herself since . . .

No. Don’t go there.

She doesn’t dare let herself think about it even three years later—especially not when she’s supposed to be smiling.

Dr. Ryan—she’s the shrink Gaby has been seeing lately—says it’s okay to distract herself when she feels like she’s about to burst into tears over morbid thoughts of the past.

“Get yourself out of the moment,” the doctor advised. “Read a magazine, go for a run, call a friend—anything that you enjoy.”

She nodded at the advice, rather than admit that there’s very little she enjoys anymore. Even the things that once gave her pleasure have been reduced to mere obligations.

Yet here she is, allowing her cousin to take photos to create a profile on the InTune dating Web site. Even Dr. Ryan thought it might be a good idea—another positive step toward getting over Ben, making a fresh start.

“Gaby, I wish you’d try to relax,” Maria cajoles. “It’s for your own good. Try and have fun with it.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s see how Mr. Perfect likes this.” She sticks her thumbs into her ears and wiggles her fingers, rolls her eyes back and thrusts out her tongue.

“Hilarious! I love it!” Maria snaps away.

“Hey! I was just kidding around.”

“I know, but this will show him that you have a light side. We can do the sexy shots later.”

“Sexy shots?” she echoes, already shaking her head.

“Hey, why don’t you romp around on the grass?”

“Romp around on the—”

“You know, maybe do a cartwheel or something.”

“A cartwheel? Are you insane? Or do you just want people to think that I am?”

“Just do something that shows that you have a lighthearted, fun side. Go!” Maria points her left index finger at Gaby, her right poised on the shutter. “Come on. It’s for Mr. Perfect.”

Gaby shakes her head.

She thought she had already found Mr. Perfect, a long time ago.

She was wrong.

She also thought she could live with that. Live alone. Forever.

But then—in a weak, lonely moment, after too many happy hour cocktails on Cinco de Mayo—she allowed Maria to convince her that online dating is the answer to all her problems.

“Everyone does it,” Maria told her.

“Not everyone.”

“I do.”

“You’re not everyone.”

“But everyone else does, too. Excuse me,” Maria called to a pretty waitress scurrying past their outdoor table with bowls of tortilla chips and guacamole. “Can I ask you a quick question?”

“Sure, what’s up?” The waitress paused, looking pleased at the momentary reprieve from running around in the heat. Hands full, she blew her bangs away from her sweaty forehead.

“Have you ever been on an Internet dating site?”

“It’s how I met my fiancé.”

“Really?”

“Really. Look.” Balancing her tray with her right hand, she waved the diamond ring on her left. “We’re getting married next month.”

“That’s great. Congratulations. That’s all I wanted to know. Oh, and we’ll take another round when you have a chance.” The waitress walked on, and Maria looked smugly at Gaby. “See that? You can’t argue with an engagement ring.”