THE EXES IN MY IPOD: A Playlist of the Men Who Rocked Me to Wine Country

by Lisa M. Mattson

  “I haven’t been sick in three months.” My voice rang with pride. “I haven’t felt this healthy in six years.” I raised my wine glass in the air, toasting myself.

  Kevin’s eyebrows perked. He looked down at the glass in his hands. “She’s really negative.” His head cocked sideways. “That’s interesting.” He took a long sip of the wine. “How do you stay positive?”

  My eyes moved from his face to the wine glass in my hand. “The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I shrugged with a smirk. “It’s some rare form of optimism.” We laughed and sipped our wines, enjoying the comfortable silence.

  “I’ve always been positive,” Kevin said. “I haven’t felt one-hundred percent healthy in so long. Maybe you’re onto something.” His hazel eyes were burning holes in the side of my head. I continued looking at my wine glass instead of his handsome face.

  “For years I threw myself into my work instead of addressing our problems too.” I pressed on, trying to relate to his wife’s actions. “I was obsessed with making money and redecorating our houses. I thought it was just because I’m a workaholic and grew up poor, but that wasn’t it.” My free arm whipped around my upper body. Kevin sat intently across from me, his eyes locked onto mine. “But look at me now. I just left a wine tasting forty-five minutes after it started, and it didn’t bother me one bit. I’m finally finding balance.” Hosting nightly receptions to unveil new event merchandizing materials was how I’d turned my company-paid trip into a mini retreat.

  “You seem to be so at peace with all your decisions.” He took a sip of his wine. “You’re always smiling. I love that you’re so full of life.” His eyes danced around my face again. My cheeks plumped. I looked down the coffee table. I liked the way he used the word “love” when he talked about me, but I was still smart enough to keep my shadow of a doubt about his intentions curled up in a big ball between us.

  I shrugged my shoulders, smiling. “The only side is the bright side.”

  “Your upbringing must have had a real positive impact on your life.”

  “Ummm…yes and no.” I squirmed on his couch cushion. “I’m a big believer in nature versus nurture. I believe we are who we are from the minute we’re born. Our experiences in life shape us, but they don’t change our destiny.” I spoke slowly and clearly, emphasizing every word. It was an unexpected epiphany. I was born this way, and I didn’t need Lady Gaga to hatch from an egg at the Grammys to teach me that. My decisions about whom to date and what jobs to work had shaped my path in life. Sure, my “daddy issues” had made me a little needier and less confident than most girls for years, but that era was behind me. I’d finally found my way on the long, bumpy road to happiness, and I had so many reasons to be thankful. I was born with the ability to handle the curveballs life had thrown me.

  I looked down at my crossed legs. “My marriage was not a mistake. I don’t have any bad feelings toward him.” I took a long, cleansing breath while Kevin refilled my glass. “Negativity sucks the energy out of people. There’s no more room in my life for anger or resentment. It just wasn’t meant to be. The right person is out there for both of us.” I paused for a moment, staring through the glass top on his coffee table. “I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I hadn’t had spent more than five years of my life with him.” I sat on the edge of his couch with my shoulders back, feeling the pride ripple through my body. “The experience shaped me.”

  Kevin’s eyes drifted toward a window. “I envy you.” I watched his smile fade. I couldn’t imagine dealing with all the paperwork and court hearings, and driving six hours from San Diego to Scottsdale every other week.

  The sound of tiny footsteps pulled us from the deep conversation. I looked across the room to the oak staircase and watched Maya’s ruffled nightgown appear before her face. Her piggy tails were lopsided. My thoughts drifted to summer days at the city pool near my grandmother’s house.

  “Hey, Sugar Bear,” Kevin said. “Feeling better?” Maya stood on the bottom step and pressed her back against the wall. She looked down at her bare feet. “You remember Miss Harley from the pool today.” Kevin held out both hands to her. “Don’t be shy. You’re never shy.” He stood up and walked over to the fridge. “Do you want some milk?”

  She shuttled over to the couch and plopped down where her dad had been sitting. He returned to the couch with a sippy cup and wrapped his arm around her while she rubbed her eyes. Kevin leaned down and whispered in her ear. Maya’s eyes widened as a smile spread across her face. It was the same cute look I’d seen at the pool, when Kevin had asked Maya to ask me if I wanted to each lunch with them in their cabana. I smiled as Maya scooted to my side of the couch. I put my arm around her shoulder.

  “Do you wanna go to CrackerJax?” Maya asked, batting her long eyelashes at me.

  The three of us spent the next two hours at CrackerJax, a local amusement park. Kevin and I stood along the rail of the go-kart track and cheered as Maya whizzed by. I held Maya’s popcorn while Kevin helped her play Wack-A-Rat. The fact that Kevin was such a caring father made me want to get to know him better, and that shocked me. When I’d left Paul, I didn’t even know if I’d ever want kids. Looking down at Maya tugging my hand toward the Skee-Ball machines, it hit me that dating men with children could be the norm for women in their thirties.

  Back at the house, Kevin tucked Maya into bed. I sat on the bottom step of their carpeted stairs and listened to him reading her a bedtime story. It was a precious moment. The man was playing my heartstrings faster than a Jimi Hendrix solo. I wasn’t sure I was stepmom material, but I knew I wanted to date a sensitive man with a big heart.

  I moved back to the sectional sofa and grabbed a copy of Golf Digest from the bottom shelf of the coffee table. I thumbed through the pages, studying each golfer’s form. At CrackerJax, Kevin had given me a quick lesson at the driving range. When I’d swung the club, I’d missed the ball the first two times, and had nearly hit a passing caddy in the head. It had to be a strike against me, which was fine. The right guy would love me for who I am.

  “You look so perfect sitting there all quiet.” Kevin stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Why didn’t you turn on the TV?” I looked up at him, feeling my teeth grinding against each other. My hairs stood up on my arms. His compliments were just too much after years with a guy who showed his love by running the vacuum cleaner.

  “I don’t watch television anymore,” I replied coolly. “The news is always bad news. Reality TV isn’t real.” Camping out every night in front of the television came to a halt as soon as I’d filed for divorce. I didn’t have time; there were too many Sonoma wine roads to explore. Russian River Valley, Dry Creek Valley and Alexander Valley were all within twenty-five minutes of my townhouse.

  He dropped onto the couch next to me. “You are so amazing.” My heart thumped. “I want to know everything about you.” Kevin grabbed both my hands and gazed at my face like a long-lost friend who couldn’t wait to catch up. I adjusted my weight, scooting away from him. “Okay. First, tell me what you love most about the wine business.”

  “What’s not to love?” I laced my fingers around my knees, grinning. I’ve been asked some form of that question for ten-plus years, but most people just say, “I want your job.” My eyes met Kevin’s. “I work with a product that brings people pleasure. It’s all about hospitality. I love making people happy, and when people go to a wine tasting or a restaurant and taste a wine they love, they’re happy.” My words reminded me that waiting tables was the perfect transition to a fulfilling career in wine. “The wine business is very social. There are lots of cocktail parties, tastings and dinners. I love traveling around the country, tasting new wines and meeting new people.” I looked to his bare coffee table, wishing we still had our wine glasses. “And it’s good for the body too.”

  Kevin grinned in silence, looking into my eyes. I glanced back at his coffee table and thought of my father. What did his death teach me? It was my destiny to grow up with an a
lcoholic and dedicate my life to wine—to prove to all the naysayers that booze can be an integral part of a healthy, happy lifestyle. Beer wasn’t what caused Dad’s problems; it was mental illness that went untreated.

  Kevin grabbed my hands and squeezed. “I love my job that much too.” He looked down at my palms and kept rubbing. “It’s been a great day. We should open another bottle.” He hopped off the couch.

  “I can only have one glass. Don’t open anything special.” I could hear the white lie in my wry tone. Wines that fine hadn’t touched my tongue since The Wine News days. He returned to the couch with two Bordeaux-style glasses and a high-shouldered wine bottle.

  “Harlan’s second label.” Kevin offered the bottle to me. “But you probably already knew that. They only make a few hundred cases.” I cradled the stocky bottle in my hands. It felt like a shot put—a very shiny, beautiful shot put filled with liquid gold.

  “Wow.” I stared at BOND’s ornate label and its vineyard designate, St. Eden Vineyard. “Thank you for sharing this with me.” The label looked like money printed by the U.S. Treasury. Chance would be impressed. I hoped he’d decided to follow my marketing (and dating) advice.

  Kevin uncorked the bottle in the kitchen and proceeded to decant it. My stomach was doing a gymnastic floor routine. He owns a decanter and knows how to use it.

  My voice chirped from the couch. “Can I get a glass of water?”

  “Keep going.” Kevin stood over me with two full wine glasses in his hands. “I want to know everything about you.”

  I took the glass with both hands, feeling the lump in my throat. The wine was deep and dark with a purple-red hue. I swirled the glass on the coffee table, then took a long sniff. The bouquet was heady and dense; layers of black fruits and clove filled my nose. Kevin floated back to get my water.

  I pulled back and propped an arm on the back of the couch. “I brought you a twenty-five dollar bottle of wine.” I lifted the wine glass in my hand. “And you give me this.” I paused to take my first sip. The wine was plush and polished—as silky and textured as that loan sip of Screaming Eagle I’d had while working on a story for The Wine News. I let the rich flavors of cassis and spice linger on my tongue before speaking. “The wine you bring to a party says a lot about the person.” I bit my bottom lip, smirking. I was far more interested in learning about the dreamy life of a pro golfer who flew around in private jets and drank BOND on a Tuesday night.

  Kevin flashed his sparkling teeth. “You’re not getting off that lightly.”

  I laughed, sitting down my wine glass. “Okay, fine.” I reached for the cup of water. “But it’s the real me.” I spoke proudly of my childhood in Kansas, my father’s drinking, my move to South Florida and getting into the wine business. I was comfortable in my own skin, talking about all the milestones and potholes in my life—all while sipping a $200 cult wine only available to mailing list members. My pace quickened when I spoke about my connection with Fernando.

  “So you believe we have more than one soulmate?” Kevin asked.

  “For so many years, I thought Fernando was the only one.” My eyes met his. “We weren’t meant to be together in this lifetime. He entered my life to teach me what a soulmate was. I was supposed to feel that amazing connection so I’d never forget it.” My voice shook, so I sipped the silky Bordeaux blend, letting it coat my throat. “And I gave up hope for six years. Now I won’t settle until I find that spark with the right person.” My voice was strong. My hands laced around my knees. Never again would I waste my time on a dead-end relationship. I thought about my conversation with Roger at the bar in Cincinnati. Every man I’d dated had taught me something about life, about myself.

  Kevin lifted his fingers and ran them slowly through my hair. My eyes bounced from his face to his wine glass to my water. He leaned slowly into me, his lips touching mine. Energy surged through my body, as his tongue circled mine. His lips were spark plugs, recharging my heart and soul. His hands moved to my face, then to my shoulders. Lights flashed in the darkness behind my closed eyelids. The connection rocked me from head to toe—just like Fernando’s first kiss. Scuba divers would have come up for air first. I pulled away and sipped my water. The Earth-moving magic of a single kiss was back.

  He brushed my hair away from my face. “I’ve wanted to do that since this afternoon.” He leaned into me, pressing his lips to mine again. A roller coaster of emotions looped through my body again. I pulled back, his lips chasing mine.

  “I just want to look at you for a minute.” Kevin’s hazel eyes were like fiery flames. I looked away bashfully. He was as smooth as Prince in Purple Rain, but I wasn’t buying what he was selling.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I sat up and crossed my legs. “I’m just not used to someone making such a fuss over me.” I squeezed my knees and leaned forward to the edge of the couch. “Especially someone I hardly know.”

  “I know this is crazy.” Kevin turned his body toward me. “I know we just met. But there’s just something about you. I feel that there’s a connection between us. I haven’t felt anything like this is a really long time. I’m following my instincts.”

  My heart buzzed in my chest. I glanced at his front door and shook my head. “I’ve heard that one before.” My mind raced as the déjà vu punched me in the throat. I could see Fernando sitting at my bistro table, telling me he’d never felt anything like us before, and he didn’t want to screw it up.

  “We have all the time in the world.” I reached for my near-empty water glass. “I should get going.” My eyes met his. “Meetings start early tomorrow.” I hopped off the couch and grabbed my purse.

  “When can I see you again?” Kevin asked, chasing after me.

  I strolled into The Phoenician lobby at 7:05 p.m. My eyes scanned the pillared room dotted with clusters of lounge seating. I spotted Kevin standing at the concierge desk, chatting with a bellman. My heart bungee-jumped. He looked like a Tommy Bahama model, wearing light-colored slacks and a linen dress shirt. I wore a pink BCBG top, white capris and my favorite Via Siga sandals. He grabbed my hands and a big grin sprawled across his face. I tucked my hair behind my ears and waited for him to lean into me, his lips kissing mine softly. My pulse soared. I’d spent the entire day inside a conference room and had just finished pouring a string of new Rancho Zabaco Zinfandel vintages at a pre-dinner reception. Kevin laced his fingers in mine and guided me to the parking garage.

  He opened the passenger door to a sparkling, white BMW sedan. I slipped into the leather seat, impressed but not surprised. When he turned the ignition key, The Black Eyed Peas blasted from his Bose CD player. My shoulders started bouncing to the beat.

  I gazed into his eyes. “Song nine is my new favorite.” My music collection was growing again, thanks to BMG Music Service. (Buying music before the iPod was such a pain in the ass!) Kevin’s fingers pushed forward to “Fly Away.” He leaned over and planted another long, soft kiss on my lips. Fergie’s soulful voice filled my ears, rocking with the energy from his kiss. I was getting back on that truck, moving and mixing it up—just like the lyrics said.

  We spent the entire evening at The Capital Grille’s bar, sipping Louis Roederer Brut Premier—my go-to non-vintage Champagne—and nibbling on crab cakes with corn relish. His palm bounced from my knee to my hand. I sat on the barstool with my legs crossed and my fingers wrapped around my flute. I felt this desire to explore, albeit carefully, my connection with smooth-talking Kevin even though getting involved with him would be unconventional and inconvenient. My romantic side was finally tethered to a practical one after a decade of failing at finding true love.

  “I have so much fun when I’m with you.” Kevin tipped his flute to mine. “I love just talking to you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I need a shovel to dig out, you’re laying it on so thick.”

  “Come on. I’m just being honest.” Kevin collapsed into his fancy bar chair. I’d just spent ten minutes answering his questions about the differen
ce between Fumé Blanc and Sauvignon Blanc. Conversations with Kevin revolved around wine and my job—and his compliments. I could hardly even get in a question about Maya, golfing or surfing.

  “Seriously,” he said, grabbing my free hand while my fork picked at the crab cakes. “I can’t believe you have to leave soon. Can’t you stay another day?” He pushed his knee against mine.

  “I wish I could,” I replied, shaking my head. “I’ve got to get home.” I was still unpacking boxes at my new townhouse. Hearing Kevin’s words continued to make every room in my head spin. From the beginning, he’d pursued me. I was just being myself, having fun and staying positive. Were the stars aligning just 90 days after I’d filed for divorce? Could it happen this fast? I took a long sip of the Champagne, letting the zipping bubbles tickle my tongue and keep me quiet.

  Kevin turned his barstool to mine. “So how are we going to make this work?” His smile was bright and sincere. Champagne almost shot out my nose like a fire hydrant. I coughed and sat my glass on the marble bar.

  My shoulders squared his. “What are you talking about?” If I had known him better, I would have used my Gary Coleman voice. “We just met. We’re both still married.” My eyes anchored onto his forehead. I wanted to turn into Superman and use x-ray vision to see his thoughts. Kevin had layers of mystery to offset his overt sweetness—like a jammy Zinfandel.

  “I haven’t felt this alive in years,” Kevin said, pulling his white napkin from his lap. “I know you feel it too.” He flashed puppy-dog eyes at me.