to me about his church and religion during the first twenty minutes we meet, I think he may be a little too reverent for me and my frequent potty mouth.
Will lived with his mother and had not ever been married—a warning sign even to a non-dater such as myself.
Mike told me about his ex-wife for a half an hour. Clearly, he was still hung up on her.
Timmy, well…Tom called that one. He was more interested in Mike than me.
That left me with Adam. Six-feet tall, clean shaven, broad shoulders under a navy polo with a little horse on it and Ferragamo loafers. My interest was sparked.
“So you work with Tom at Dunn and Monroe?”
“Been there about a year now.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m the VP of Finance.”
For the next half hour, Adam and I got to know each other. He was as funny and smart as he was handsome and polite. He certainly checked all the boxes for a man I should date. Yet…no butterflies swarmed in my belly. But maybe my expectations were off. Maybe I’d watched too many sappy romance movies. I’d felt that excitement when I’d first met Ryan, though I was a teenager back then. Perhaps things were more subdued and pleasant when dating a man in your late thirties. That made sense.
Though when he excused himself to take a call, I realized I was wrong.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, so I dug it out. Donovan’s name flashed on the screen…causing a flutter in my chest and a swarm of bees in my belly. Damn it.
Donovan: How’s the party you didn’t invite me to go to with you?
Valentina: It’s nice. Although, calmer than most years. It has a very different vibe. No one is even in the pool.
Donovan: No one in the pool? See, you should have invited me. I’d be in the pool and so would you.
I looked around. The usual Monroe pool party barbeque was more like a cocktail party this year. People were dressed a little nicer, and the air was stiffer. It was nice, just not the usual carefree, anything-goes party Eve normally threw.
Valentina: It’s a different crowd than usual. More of Eve’s husband’s colleagues from work.
Donovan: What does he do?
Valentina: He’s a mutual fund manager.
Donovan: Sounds boring. Definitely should have brought me.
Valentina: Oh really? And what do you do that is so exciting?
Donovan: I told you, I’m self-employed.
Valentina: Yes, but you haven’t elaborated.
Donovan: You haven’t asked.
He had a point. I’d been hesitant to delve too deeply into who Donovan was over the last few days. The more we chatted, the more I liked him. And I had no intention of getting involved with a boy of his age. Finding things in common would make it even more difficult to cut this tie at the end of the week. Before I could respond, my phone buzzed again.
Donovan: Not even a little curious?
Valentina: Of course. I just didn’t want to be too intrusive.
Donovan: Intrusive = Afraid to get to know you for fear I might actually like you.
Valentina: That’s not it at all.
That’s totally it!
Donovan: Well, then, I’m good with intrusive. So ask away.
I sighed. Looking around the yard, I realized I had met a ton of very nice people today. But I was more interested in talking to Donovan. I took a seat and bit the bullet.
Valentina: Dearest Donovan, might I ask what it is you do for a living?
Donovan: Sure thing, Val. I’m glad you asked. I’m in real estate.
Totally not what I expected him to say. I had this picture of Donovan riding a bike with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder or working as a first-year fireman. Definitely not a suit-wearing, Manhattan real estate wheeler-dealer.
Valentina: Wow. That wasn’t what I thought you were going to say.
Donovan: What did you think I did?
I didn’t want to insult him and say I thought he might be a messenger, so I went with fireman, thinking it was harmless.
Valentina: I don’t know. Fireman might have been my guess.
Or fantasy. Whatever.
Donovan: Women tend to think firemen are hot, correct?
Valentina: Don’t get ahead of yourself now.
Donovan: Okay, then. What, exactly, made you think I might have been a fireman?
Shit. I was drawing a blank.
Just then, Adam returned.
“Sorry about that. It was my daughter. She’s sixteen, and it was a crisis. Her mother took away her flat iron for leaving it on, and she thought calling me and demanding I tell her mother to give it back was a good idea.”
I smiled. “I take it