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“Sure,” I responded.

My sister, who was helping me with the dishes was ecstatic. A few minutes later, we heard a light knock on the door. I opened it.

“Hi,” said Denny with a huge grin, “I came to kiss you good-night.”

“Uh…this is my sister,” I said quickly, in an effort to show him we were not alone.

Denny extended a handshake as he made his way into the house. “Nice to meet you. Can I kiss you goodnight, too?” he joked.

Laura grinned, “Want to sit down and have some chips and salsa?”

Denny accepted the offer and the three of us ended up chatting for an hour or so, until Laura said she was going to bed.

Denny left shortly after. “Sleep well, sweet girl,” he said, after a long goodnight kiss in the doorway. I stood there smiling while I watched him walk to his car.

I think it was at that moment that I decided I was ready to give myself to Denny, this adorable guy who had just made a special trip to my house to kiss my lips without any agenda or other motives attached. I didn’t mean just physically giving myself to him, although that was part of it. But I wanted to give Denny all I could emotionally, as well. It was time. Time to take a chance again.

Once in bed, I texted Denny, “I’d like to make dinner for you on Saturday night. What do you think?”

“Love the idea. Mmmwwwaaahhh…” he responded.

So that was my plan. Isabelle and Laura would stay at my parent’s house, and I would make my kind-hearted new boyfriend an amazing dinner. And for dessert, he would have me.

I was even beginning to think I would introduce Izzie to Denny fairly soon. And that was a big deal because I had it in my mind that I didn’t want my child to be exposed to a long line of dates and boyfriends. Any man I would potentially introduce her to would probably be a man who would be in my life for a very long time, perhaps for forever.

Obviously none of the Matts fit that description, and introducing Preston to Izzie had never been seriously considered, except for the brief period when I thought I may be giving birth to his child. Strangely enough, my gut had always told me that Luke would be the first man in my life to meet my daughter. It was time, however, to tell my gut to go shove it, and move on with my life. Yes, Denny Fitzpatrick would meet Isabelle. And although it would probably be difficult for her to see her mother with someone else, she would like Denny. I was sure of it. Who wouldn’t?

By the time Saturday came around, I was feeling nervous, but good about turning up the volume a notch on the Denny relationship. This was a big step for me, but I felt ready. I began marinating my flank steak at 8:30 in the morning, and while the meat was successfully soaking I took Izzie to an indoor swimming pool and water park in the area. While she slid down the tube slide for the hundredth time, I couldn’t stop thinking about how it was going to feel to make love with Denny.

We had certainly waited long enough. Lots of dates, lunches, dinners, visits to each other’s houses, and all we had done was kiss. Taking things to a new level physically was probably going to change everything, and would hopefully draw us even closer than we were. These thoughts were both joyous and scary.

I got a text from Alice. “Good luck tonight! Just have fun and enjoy yourself.” Then I got a text from Laura. “Stop by
Walgreens
and buy condoms. That was from Mom too.”

I dropped off Izzie at my parent’s house, and then I went home to tend to my meat. When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed a bag sitting outside my front door. I went into the house through the garage and immediately ran to the door to see what it was. Inside the bag was a big white box with a pink bow around it. There was no writing and no card on the box.

I took it inside and put it on the kitchen table, and then I opened it. Immediately, I began to giggle. Inside the box, wrapped in tissue paper was a big huge box of Tootsie Pop lollipops. I realized instantly, there was only one person who would send these to me. I was equally elated and angry at the same time. Only Luke would have this kind of timing. Only Luke would send me a gift on the exact day I had a major milestone occurring. Just like he showed up to rescue me at the jogging path just hours before my first date with Preston, Luke was showing up now, only this time in the form of hard candy. Why was he always putting himself inside my heart just when I felt I was on the brink of true happiness with someone else? It was outrageously disturbing. And exciting.

A card was taped to the box. “Emma,” it read, “If you’re up for it, I’d like to start taking some licks. Luke.”

I stood there with my jaw on the ground, shocked for a second at the notion that Luke was pursuing me. I realized that things with his wife must be over, and this was his way of telling me that. His timing, however, couldn’t have been worse.

What about Denny? What about the man who had made our relationship from day one effortless, fun and worry-free? Wasn’t he the obvious choice? I found myself furious. How dare Luke confuse me! Just because he and his wife decided to call it quits (again), I was supposed to drop everything?

I put the lollipop box down and then I took a seat at the kitchen table and I sat there for a moment, angry and wanting to cry. Why was I so upset? Was it relief that Luke had finally come around? Or maybe I was frustrated. Deep down though, I knew exactly what was making me so upset. Guilt. I felt like a criminal who just did something majorly illegal. Why? Because sitting here staring at the box of Tootsie Pops in front of me, I was wishing it was Luke coming to my house tonight for flank steak.

“What’s wrong with dating both of them?” Laura asked me. I had called over at my parents and requested she stop over. She was sitting at my kitchen table sucking on a cherry Tootsie Pop.

“I’m not really the kind of person who can do that,” I responded, “You know…multiple dates with different guys. I’m a one guy at a time kind of girl.”

“I wish I could tell you what to do,” she said, “What does your heart say?”

“Luke, Luke, Luke! But the practical side is calling Denny.”

“Well don’t make any decisions tonight. I mean, just enjoy your dinner with Denny and see how things go.”

At that moment I got a text. I looked at it in disbelief. It was from Preston. “I miss you,” it read, “Will you be my Tootsie Pop? How many licks does it take to get to your center?”

Laura told me she would never have believed the coincidence of the Tootsie Pop analogy had I not shown her the actual text message on my phone. I agreed wholeheartedly. What were the odds that two men I knew would both compare me (on the same day, mind you) to a household name in lollipops?

“How do you feel?” Laura asked.

“Angry!” I exclaimed, “I never thought I’d hear from Preston again. I was hoping the next time I saw him would be in the hallway at
Winchester,
right after I make my million dollar deal! What gives him the right, after all this time, to sext me?”

“It seems like it’s just his style. I’m sure he misses you.”

I knew she was right, but I was infuriated by his fun, casual message. Didn’t Preston owe me an apology for staying away for so long? Did he expect me to jump right back into bed with him after everything that happened?

Between Denny and Luke and Preston, my mind was racing. Three completely different guys. Three very different relationships. Each one unique. Three guys, each who meant such different things to me. To say I was confused was an understatement.

.

Chapter 32

F
ive minutes before Denny got to my house, my cell phone rang. I saw it was Luke calling, therefore there was no chance I was taking the call. I couldn’t handle it right now, so I continued cutting up vegetables for the salad while I waited for him to leave a message. Two minutes later, I listened to it.

“Hi, Emma, it’s Luke. Just calling to see if you got my gift.” He chuckled at this point. Luke seemed nervous and it was kind of funny. “I wanted to see if you’d like to get together and go out and talk. Give me a call and let me know. Thanks. Have a great night.”

Luke’s message was so hard to hear. I wanted to call him back and tell him he had the worst timing in the world! I had felt so sure about Denny, and now, just because Luke dropped a hundred lollipops off at my door, I had doubt. Add to the mix the crazy text I’d gotten from Preston, and it was a recipe for mayhem.

I wasn’t considering getting together with the sexter, but I did have the desire to call him and let him know how inappropriate his message was, how disappointed I was that he had so easily dismissed me after the miscarriage, and how he had no right to pop (no pun intended) back into my life and ask if he could lick me.

By the time Denny rang my doorbell, I was a bundle of nerves. When I answered the door, my dinner date attacked me with kisses. Had this been yesterday, or any time before I received the Costco size box of Tootsie Pops, I’d have kissed him back, perhaps for hours. Who knew? Maybe we would have skipped dinner and gone right upstairs to officially turn our relationship into a love affair. But things were different now. Luke had complicated things. And I hated him for that. And loved him for the same reason.

Denny sensed my hesitation immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked me, “You seem jittery. Are you nervous I may not like your cooking?”

“No,” I lied, “I’m fine. How about some wine?”

“Sure.”

From that moment on, the entire night seemed forced. It was awkward, strange, and so completely different than the other ten times we’d been together. All our conversations dragged. Being with him was uncomfortable and weird. But I was taking credit for all of it. It was
my
issue.

After dinner, as I stood at the kitchen sink doing dishes, Denny grabbed my waist from behind me and turned me around. He began kissing me and I kissed him back, trying to return to the place I’d been with him for the past couple weeks. I couldn’t, though. The same lips I’d been enjoying were now making me extremely uncomfortable, and I felt like the scum of the earth because poor Denny had no clue that this had nothing to do with him.

I wanted so badly to be able to turn on a switch in my core to make myself continue to fall for Denny. But it was just not happening. Being in his arms felt unbelievably wrong. The bottom line was, I couldn’t stop thinking about Luke. It was as if he was standing here in the middle of my kitchen, telling me to send Denny out the door and go to him.

“What’s wrong?” Denny asked me softly, “Please tell me.”

I looked up at his kind face, tears instantly appearing in my eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“With me?” he asked softly, “Are you sick of me already?”

“No! I promise, that’s not it.”

“Then tell me. You can say anything and I’ll listen, and try to help you.”

“I can’t talk about it. I’m sorry.”

He backed away. “Well then, what should we do? Should I go?”

I looked at him sadly and said, “Maybe.”

Denny left, and I felt both relief and panic at the same time. On one hand, I was experiencing unbelievable reprieve. I needed to gain a clear perspective on exactly how I felt, and that was impossible to do with Denny around. I needed to be alone. The flipside was, I had just let an amazing guy walk out my door. Would I regret it? I wasn’t sure, but the fact that I was taking that risk spoke volumes in and of itself.

And maybe all this had nothing to do with Luke. Maybe I wasn’t ready for anybody, although the thought of running over to Luke’s house and into his arms was extremely appealing at this moment. I did no such thing, though. Instead, I finished cleaning up and headed upstairs.

After tossing and turning in bed for about twenty minutes, I made a phone call completely on impulse.

“Hi, Preston,” I said when he answered his cell.

“Hi!” he exclaimed.

“I got your text.”

“I figured.” Now there was silence, neither of us knowing what to say next. Preston finally spoke again. “The thing is, the reason I texted you is, I’m not done yet.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice rising to the point of anger, “You’re not done sleeping with me yet?”

“It’s more than that. I miss you.”

“Then why did you stay away for so long?”

“Because that’s me. I was upset about what happened and I needed time to think.”

“You hurt me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “Are you really mad at me?”

“Yes, I’m really mad at you.” Lying under the covers in the dark, I realized I was only half-serious, and that our conversation was becoming lighthearted and fun. Hearing Preston’s voice made any issues I had with him fade rapidly. After all, he wasn’t evil. He was just being himself: closed off, non-committal and confrontation-fearing.

“Being mad at me could be a good thing,” he said with a chuckle.

“How so?”

“Ever hear of hate sex?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Would you have hate sex with me?” he said with a laugh, “It would be fun.”

And there it was. The bold man was still the bold man. Preston Christiansen, the same person who told me the first time I met him that he wanted to see me naked, now wanted me to take my animosity toward him, all my hostile feelings and dislike for the way he handled things, and channel it into physical pleasure. And sickeningly enough, the thought of doing that was somewhat exciting.