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“So you remember?” I asked.

“I do. You gave me this weird look.”

“I did not.”

“Yeah, you did.”

Denny and I were now chuckling and arguing like we’d known each other for years. “So, how did you figure out my name and phone number?” he asked.

I smiled.

“Tell me,” he urged.

I looked at him, hoping my gray eye shadow would detract from the redness now taking over my cheeks. “Actually, I printed out your picture and carried it around with me, and I asked everyone I came in contact with if they knew you.” Then I pulled out the picture from my little hand bag and handed it to my date.

Denny took it and then burst out laughing.

“So like how many people saw this picture?” he asked.

“Forty or fifty?”

“Wow,” he smiled. Then, he looked right into my eyes. “I’m so flattered by what you did. I think it’s amazingly cool and so gutsy. Very impressive.”

A grin instantly burst onto my face. “Thanks.”

“So, who recognized me? Who told you my name?”

“It was Matt Millstein.”

“Oh yeah…great guy. He’s a client of mine. He buys a lot of real estate.”

“And a lot of pot.”

Denny laughed. “He
does
like to smoke.”

“I met Matt at
Sandy’s Ski Shop
and went out to dinner with him,” I said, “He’s a really nice person. I’m just not into smoking.”

“I understand.”

We ended up getting a table a little while later and then proceeded to have a three hour dinner at the posh French Asian fusion restaurant. I did all the ordering, as Denny confessed he had “no clue what half this stuff was” and that he had only chosen this place to impress me.

Denny was so open and honest. I loved the way he found humor in the fact that he had a hard childhood and came from a hard-working blue-collar family. “They’re all really good people,” he joked about his siblings, “but each of them is a pain in the ass in his or her own special way.”

As I sat there force-feeding Denny a piece of my seared Ahi Tuna with baby bok choy (after he confessed he had never eaten raw fish before), I had to admit I was having a great time, even though we came from such different worlds. Denny was so rough around the edges, but not in a bad way. He was thick-skinned and tough, and it didn’t surprise me when he told me he had been a professional boxer in his younger days. It seemed like Denny had led sort of a tough life, his family of ten always struggling for money and doing what they could to get by and survive, hence the boxing career.

Yet, there was a refined part of Denny too. He had put himself through college and had settled into a successful mortgage business. He didn’t seem bitter about having to work so hard for everything. That was refreshing to me. Denny seemed optimistic and upbeat.

It was the way he spoke of his children and ex-wife, however, that started my real interest in Dennis James Fitzpatrick, the Second. When Denny spoke about his two kids, who were eight and four, his whole face lit up and his eyes became bright and very alive. It was lovely to see a man who loved his children like he did.

As far as his ex, he said to me at one point, “Stephanie’s not a bad person, she’s just a person with a lot of problems.” What a completely refreshing description of someone’s ex-wife! There was no bitterness in Denny, not even a trace, unless he was superb at hiding it, which I thought was highly unlikely. Denny was pure, simple in a way, his aura full of goodness and kindness. Being around Denny was soothing and I felt like I could just exhale and say, “Ahh…”

As we finished our meal with white chocolate cheesecake and coffee, Denny began telling me about how he would bribe his little girl with candy to get her to sing to him. “Wait! I actually recorded it!” he exclaimed, taking out his cell phone and showing me a thirty second video of his four year-old singing
Oh, Suzanna
. Denny’s voice could be heard in the background, helping his daughter with some of the words.

“You seem like a really great dad,” I said, my heart almost hurting from how sweet he was.

“I try,” he said.

It was a no-brainer that Denny ended up on my couch after the date. We must have kissed for four hours straight. Mr. Sullivan crept his way into my mind as he did every time I was in the presence of another man, but tonight I found myself dismissing him pretty quickly. I kept my distance from Luke tonight, and let myself enjoy a guy who I was actually spending time with, versus my running partner who compared our relationship to a Tootsie Pop. Why part of me felt like I was cheating on him, I’ll never know. I had a suspicion, though, that if Luke knew I was presently lip locked with Denny, he’d be really jealous.

Denny and I kissed for so long that my lips were actually getting chapped. I had no interest in ceasing this very fun activity, though, one because it felt great, but mostly because I knew I was with a good, good man. Was I sure he was my soul mate? No, but I liked him, and that was all I cared about right now.

Denny and I didn’t just kiss all night. We talked too. He seemed very interested in me and my life, and asked a lot of questions about Isabelle and
Solo Chicka’s Salsa.
I was more than proud to tell him about both my daughter, and the fact that I might be selling my business to
Winchester Foods.

At 4:00 a.m., we both realized it was probably a good idea for Denny to go home. We had kissed a year’s worth of kisses, all while managing to keep our clothes on, except for a brief moment where Denny lifted up my shirt a little bit to get a glimpse of my belly button.

“Why do you want to see it?” I asked him.

“I just want to check it out. Is that cool?”

“Okay.”

When Denny saw my belly button, he didn’t say anything. He just sort of studied it, while tracing it with his finger. Now I was getting nervous. “Is there something wrong with my belly button?” I asked him.

He continued to examine it and still didn’t utter a word.

“If you don’t say something I’m going to assume it’s weird looking.”

“It’s cute,” he said with a smile.

The next day, as I was walking out of one of my client’s stores, I received a text. “I had a great time with you and your cute belly button.”

My smile was so big I almost had to hide it. What a cutie. I texted back, “I had fun too Den0507. Thanks for exceeding my expectations. U r adorable in real life.”

My second date with Denny turned out to be that night! Around 7:00, still exhausted from the night before and the four hours of sleep I’d gotten, I got a call.

“I know this sounds crazy,” he said, “but I don’t have my kids tonight, and if you can get your sister to babysit, I was thinking, without sounding completely perverted, maybe you could come over and I could play with your belly button for a little while.”

“Hmm…” I said playfully, “I guess we could do that. As long as you know my belly button is the only thing you’ll be playing with.”

“Oh, then that’s okay. I think I’ll pass.”

“Denny!” I shouted with a giggle.

“Just kidding,” he said, “Come over. How do you like your pizza?”

“Let me put Isabelle to sleep first and then I’ll be over,” I told him, “Cheese, pepperoni and mushroom.”

The second I hung up, I heard, “Let me guess. You’re going out with Mr. Belly Button again?”

“Is that wrong?” I asked Laura.

“No,” she smiled, “It’s great!”

I put Izzie to bed around 8:30, and then made a mad dash to fix myself up for my new guy. I put on light make-up, old jeans and a tight pink Juicy t-shirt that accented the belly button of which I was now
very
proud.

When Denny answered his door, he didn’t say hello. Instead, he grabbed me and kissed me. We must have kissed in the doorway for fifteen minutes before I even walked fully into the house.

Then the two of us sat at his little kitchen table, eating pizza out of the box and gulping down water out of huge water bottles. While we ate, Denny told me about why he got divorced. He explained that he and his wife had problems, “like everyone else,” but that he thought it was pretty normal and that they would work through them. “When she told me she wanted to separate, it was like someone pulled the rug out. I was completely shocked. And devastated, obviously.”

“I’m so sorry,” I sympathized.

Denny asked me about Sam, and I told him what happened. I didn’t get into details, and I didn’t tell him about the fight we had on the night of Sam’s death, but I was honest about the fact that Sam and I weren’t getting along in the days prior to his death.

“Wow, I’m so sorry,” Denny replied, “That must be really hard.”

“Yes, it is,” I said, “It was very confusing for a long time, but I’m learning to accept things.”

“You sound like you have a really good therapist.”

I smiled. “Their names are Helene, Laura, and Alice.” I left out Luke.

Denny took my hand and led me into his family room and onto his couch. The first thing he did was pick up my t-shirt and touch my belly button.

“Do not sleep with him, Emma!” I told myself, “You don’t know him!”

“I don’t know you!” I exclaimed, quickly sitting up and pushing his hand off of my innie umbilicus. “Did you know that your belly button is technically the scar left from separating from your mother at birth?”

“So?”

“So,” I said as I pulled down my tight tee, “You don’t even know my mother, and here you are with your hands all over my belly button that was once attached to her.”

“What are you trying to say?”

I stood up. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for sex and lust and naked bodies.”

“Okay,” Denny said softly. He sat me back down and put his arm around me. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m really sorry, Denny. I just want to kiss. I don’t want to get into a physical thing yet.”

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, “I’ll wait.”

I looked into his eyes, this seemingly good, decent man, whose divorce was an enigma to me. “How could a woman leave a guy like this?” I asked myself. I couldn’t imagine Denny Fitzpatrick doing anything that was so bad that it warranted a permanent separation. I wondered if I would ever find out for myself.

Denny took me in his arms and kissed me for a long time, and I realized right then how much the human body, just like it needs food and water, needs strong arms to cover it every now and again. And it was strange. I felt Luke begin to drift away from me. Maybe it was because I had just made a conscious decision to let him go, or maybe I was really connecting with someone else. I wasn’t sure, but at this moment, I decided to give in, let Luke live his life with his family, and allow myself to focus on someone who was unattached, someone who was mentally available, and someone who really seemed to want a relationship with me. Maybe in life, timing was much more powerful than love.

.

Chapter 31

T
he next morning, Izzie went to school, Laura went to work, and the second the house was empty, I picked up the phone and called Philip Warren (who I’d been playing phone tag with for almost a week) to discuss the potential sale of
Solo Chicka’s Salsa.

Surprisingly, he answered his phone and we ended up having a long conversation. At times, my mind drifted to one of Phillip’s co-workers. I wondered how old Phil would react if I told him about my steamy relationship with a certain information systems guy over there. Yes, there were ten thousand
Winchester
employees working in Phil’s branch alone, but still, there was a chance he knew Preston. Unlikely, but possible.

It was difficult not to think about Preston while talking to someone from his company, but when Phil began throwing out numbers in regards to what he thought
Solo Chicka’s Salsa
was worth, I quickly stopped obsessing over the womanizer who had dropped off the face of the earth.

“How did you come across my company?” I asked Phil.

He explained that one of the executives from
Winchester
had noticed my salsa in a store and had told Phil about the opportunity.

“After several hours of research,” Phil said, “I came to the conclusion that it makes financial sense and could increase profitability of
Winchester’s
Mexican snack division.”

Phil and I set up a meeting for two weeks from the following day, and the second I hung up, Denny called.

“I miss you,” he said.

“You just saw me twelve hours ago.”

“I still miss you,” he repeated.

“Me too,” I said with a smile. What an endearing person he was, open and honest, and unafraid to admit his feelings. “This is so easy,” I told myself. “No complications, no guessing games, and most importantly, no ex-wives coming back into the picture.”

Denny and I began seeing each other over the next couple of weeks, every chance we got. Quick lunches, dinner dates when Laura or my parents could babysit, phone conversations that lasted for hours, and the ultimate, a late-night visit from my guy, simply for a good night kiss and nothing else.

It was a Tuesday night around 10:30, and I was just finishing up a batch of my latest concoction, Blueberry Patch salsa, when I got a text from Denny. “I’m stopping by for two minutes. Is that okay?”