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“Friday night sounds great,” I texted. Then I declared to my family, “I have a date on Friday night.”

Laura started clapping and my mom nodded her head in approval and said, “I’ll babysit.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said with a smile.

“Sure. So, how did you meet him?” she asked, “I mean, do we know anything about him? Is he a stranger?”

“Actually, he works for
Winchester Foods
. He works for Stacy McGowan’s husband.”

My mom looked pleased. “Good.”

“So, do you want Izzie to sleep over my house?” Mom asked.

“No!” I said.

“Don’t be so defensive. I was just thinking, you may want to…you know, have some privacy.”

“Mom!” exclaimed Laura, “She’s not going to sleep with him!”

“How do you know?” said Mom, “It’s possible.”

It was funny. When it came to sex, my sister was actually more conservative than our mother.

“Thanks for the offer, Mom,” I said, “Let me think about it.” Mom gave me a wink and Laura still had a look of disapproval on her face.

“Look, Laura,” I said, “I actually met someone I want to have dinner with. I have no clue what’s going to happen
after
the meal, but this is a really big deal to me. Aren’t you happy that I’m at least interested in someone? I mean, I wasn’t sure that would ever happen again.”

Laura’s judgmental attitude seemed to disappear at this moment, her face turning soft and light and happy. “Yes, I’m happy for you, Em. And whatever you decide after dinner, I won’t judge you.”

“Thanks,” I smiled. And at that moment, I was thinking that I already knew what was going to happen after dinner. The writing was on the wall. It had been there since the second Preston and I met. It was so crystal clear, it was frightening. And appealing…

Preston texted back, “Sounds great. I’ll get your address from Stacy. Be at your house at 7:00?”

“Ok,” I texted.

“Looking forward to it,” was his last text.

I looked at my mother. “Yes,” I said, trying not to laugh, “I think I will have Izzie sleep over, if that’s okay.”

My mom and sister and I ended up sitting at the kitchen table drinking wine and eating chips and celery and salsa until 4:30. Laura cried at times, but mostly we talked and laughed and reminisced. And as sad as the circumstances were, I couldn’t remember the last time I had so much fun. And in the worst time of her life, my sister seemed to feel the same way, putting aside her miserable situation and just simply enjoying sisterly and motherly bonding. As for my mother, who now had the burden of dealing with yet another daughter’s tragedy, I knew she would never forget this night either.

At around 7:00, Isabelle came downstairs to find both her aunt and her grandmother sleeping soundly on the sectional in our family room. Grandma was covered with a wool blanket and Aunt Laura with the afghan that had been given to me by my father’s mother several years earlier. As for Izzie’s mother, I was sprawled out on the rug in a sleeping bag, a couch pillow under my head.

“Mommy, what are you doing?” my daughter whispered to me.

“Mommy had a little slumber party,” I answered with tired eyes and a smile.

“Come to Grandma!” said my mother, waking up and sitting up.

Izzie quickly obliged and hugged her grandmother.

The next person to wake up was the slumber party guest of honor. “What about Aunt Laura?” she asked.

Isabelle leapt over and hugged her.

I was a bit hung over, extremely groggy, and my eyes were half-massed. The next words I heard, however, would wake me up in an instant.

“I have a great idea,” my mother declared with conviction, “I think Laura should move in here for a little while.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Here…in your house, Emma.”

Izzie started cheering and clapping.

“The thing is,” Laura responded, “Alan said he won’t move out. He wants the house.”

“Which means the case could take years,” added my mother.

“And the thought of living in the house with that…” Laura looked at Isabelle, who was paying full attention to her. My sister realized she couldn’t call her estranged husband the names she so wanted to call him, so she finished her sentence with, “man…”

“Right,” said my mother, “You absolutely can’t stay there with him!”

I looked at my sister and said with sincerity, “You’re always welcome here.”

Izzie screamed with excitement and hugged Laura, which made my sister’s face light up.

I looked at my daughter. “We’re going to have so much fun!”

While Isabelle jumped up and down, shouting, “Yay!!” I looked at Laura. She mouthed, “Thank you.” Then I glanced over at my mother. She smiled and blew me a kiss.

.

Chapter 5

M
ajor anxiety in anticipation of my date began just after I dropped Isabelle off at my parents’ house late Friday afternoon. I kissed them all good-bye and headed for the door quickly, in order to avoid a certain person who I knew was going to try to grab me on the way out. Sure enough, my mother succeeded, catching me on the sly, when she knew my daughter wouldn’t be listening, since she was instead enjoying cookies and milk in the kitchen.

“Make sure you use a condom, Emma,” she preached, “Sexually transmitted diseases are a very serious concern.”

“Will do,” was all I said, smiling appreciatively and pretty much wanting to die, knowing there was a possibility that my dad heard.

My mother kissed my forehead and then said, “Oy vey.” With a smile, I was out the door. That’s when the torture officially began, the scary feeling of the unknown night ahead. And as I drove back home, I actually had to concentrate on taking long, deep breaths to calm myself down. “He’s only a guy,” I told myself, “He’s only a guy.” But he was the hottest guy, and he was the first guy, and he was the guy who had unearthed me, the guy who had perhaps brought red blood back into my cold, jaded veins.

I decided the best way to soothe my nerves was to go for a run. So when I got home, I threw on some shorts and a t-shirt and drove to a tranquil jogging path that was right by my house. Lined with beautiful landscaped trees, and bushes with flower buds, the trail wrapped around a small, scenic lake. The path was my favorite place to escape and exercise at the same time. It made me feel like I was in a remote forest, yet through the green, I could see the crystal clear lake glistening from the sun beating down on it.

There weren’t too many people on the path during this early evening, which was nice since it made things even more peaceful. As I jogged along, I decided to pick out my outfit for the evening. This was not an easy task. What was the appropriate clothing to wear for a night out with a man who had made the daring statement that he wanted to see me without
any
clothes on? How much skin did I want to show?

Then, just as I mentally put on my little black sundress, something unbelievable (and awful and horrifying, I might add) happened. I fell. I don’t know exactly how, but I think I tripped, and in an instant I was lying face down on the pavement.

I lay there for a second, my brain trying to figure out what, if any, body parts I’d injured. The only things I felt throbbing were both of my knees, and my gut reaction was to be thankful because I realized I could move all of my limbs, no problem.

The next thing that happened is bizarre. I heard a man’s voice. “Are you okay?”

I sat up, still in shock from the fall, and looked up. Kneeling over me was a really nice looking guy. He had salt and pepper hair that was mostly salt, and I was guessing he was about my age or a little older. “Um…I think so,” I said softly, while I looked into his kind, comforting blue eyes.

“Let me help you up,” he said, taking my hands and lifting me to my feet, making me feel like some superhero was rescuing me. Although, who was I kidding? There were no superheroes living in my neighborhood, and even if there were, they were undoubtedly married.

When I stood up, I noticed the guy’s body. It was nice. Not perfect, like Preston’s, but strong and defined. He had a little belly, but it was obvious he made an effort when it came to his physique.

The next thing I noticed was blood on the ground. Panic set in, as I wondered what part of my body was dripping blood.

“Wow, you fell pretty hard,” the guy said. He was looking at my knees. When I looked down, I was relieved that the extent of my injuries were scrapes on my knee caps that looked like the ones Izzie got when she fell off her bike the prior summer. That being said, they hurt like hell. I now understood the thirty minute crying episode my daughter had at the time. But even more concerning than the stinging and throbbing and burning pain and blood gushing, was the fact that I’d have to go out tonight with band-aids on my knees. ‘Real sexy…’ I thought to myself. Maybe I’d wear jeans instead of the little black dress.

“Really, are you okay?” the guy asked with a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah,” I replied. Then I burst out laughing.

The guy started laughing a little bit, but mostly he was just watching me, waiting for me to finish laughing, I think.

“I’m sorry,” I said in between giggles, “I can’t believe that just happened.”

Now the guy started laughing a little, but it was more out of obligation, in other words if he laughed, he’d be agreeing with me.

“I’m horrified,” I said, my chuckling subsiding, “I mean, what a klutz!”

“Please,” the guy said, “I’ve taken worse spills than that.”

“Sober?”

The guy laughed. “No,” he said. And we both smiled.

This whole thing seemed so strange. I had just fallen on my face, my knees were bloody, and I was standing here laughing about it with a very attractive married guy with kids (I assumed he was married even though I didn’t spot a ring) who I instantly liked. I mean, really liked. He was good looking. Not hot, like Preston, but it wasn’t really his looks that were causing instant adoration. There was something else. Something more. Something strangely comfortable, and this air he had about him that was putting me at ease. I felt like he’d been my friend for years.

“Look, I’m Luke Sullivan,” he said, extending his hand.

I shook it. “Emma. Emma Bloom.”

Luke smiled. “See that house?” he asked, pointing into the distance, “That’s where I live. Let’s walk over there and I’ll treat your bruises.” I must have looked at him like he had three heads, because he gave me a wide grin and added, “I’m not a psycho killer. I’m a trader. I work downtown at the Board of Trade. I’m a good guy, I promise. I have two kids and a wife who decided last year she doesn’t want me anymore. Technically, I’m still married, just because getting divorced takes forever. I don’t date. I work a lot. I spend time with my boys, and when I’m not with them, I watch sports with my guy friends…the ones whose wives let them go out with me…and sometimes I drink a lot.” His grin got wider and he said, “I’m not drunk right now, though.”

I realized I had a huge smile on my face. I liked this guy. He was charming. Not strikingly handsome like Preston Christiansen, but personality plus! He had this really nice mouth, very attractive, that looked even better when he smiled, and he had a way about him of self-confidence, combined with self-deprecation that I could tell was somewhat of a shtick. I liked the combo, a little bit conceited and a little bit modest, almost vulnerable.

“Okay, sure,” I said with a smile.

It took about four minutes to walk to Luke’s mansion, and during that time, I felt like I was on a first date.

“So, do you live in the area?” Luke asked.

“Yes, I live on Spruce.”

“That’s a nice street.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Do you have kids?”

“I have a daughter. She’s six.”

“Cute age.”

“Did you say you have two kids?”

“Yeah. Nine year-old twin boys.”

“Wow, that must be a lot.”

Luke chuckled, “Yeah, they’re a handful. It’s weird being a single dad. I wasn’t a very hands-on father when they were little, but now, with the divorce, I don’t have a choice. And in a way, I’m lucky. I do a lot of things that moms ordinarily do, just because when they’re with me, I have to deal with everything. I can no longer hand them over to their mother when things get rough.”

I smiled, “Same with me, I guess. I do a lot of things a dad would normally do, since…”

“What?”

“Well…” I took a deep breath and then, for the first time in over a year, I actually shared my past with a stranger. “My husband died last year.”

“Oh my God, really? How?”

I nodded, “He was in a car accident.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks,” I answered with a sad smile, feeling guilty that I was overjoyed because I’d just actually said it out loud. Telling a person that Sam died was like letting a huge cat out of the bag. It made it real, and it made me feel like I was taking a huge step forward.

We entered Luke’s big, huge, stone house from the back porch. Once inside, I was standing in his kitchen, looking around in awe, and realizing that he must be a really good trader. “So, was this your house when you were married?”

Luke chuckled as he rummaged through one of the kitchen drawers, “No. My wife lives about four blocks from here in our original house. I bought this place to be close to my kids.”