by Vi Keeland
Donovan620: That’s what caught my attention. Any woman who cannonballs is worth changing my middle name for.
Donovan was witty. I liked him. And maybe, just maybe, his muscles were nice, too. I refilled my wine glass.
Donovan620: That wasn’t the only coincidence. Go ahead, check me out fully.
Clicking back to his profile, I continued to read.
Age: 25
My ideal match: Old enough to know better, young enough to not give a fuck. Smart. Loves the outdoors and simple things in life—like taking the scenic route when driving.
Val44: Did you just add that to your ideal match?
Donovan620: Nope.
Val44: Well, it seems as though we have a few things in common. It’s too bad I don’t meet the rest of your criteria.
Donovan620: What part?
Val44: While I’m definitely old enough to know better, it seems I do give a fuck.
Donovan620: I’ll overlook your sensibility, seeing as you’ve dealt with my unfortunate middle name.
Val44: That’s very kind of you. But we have another problem—one I’m afraid we won’t be able to get past.
Donovan620: And that is…
Val44: You’re too young for me. You’re twenty-five. I’m thirty-seven.
Donovan620: Your profile states that your ideal match is between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-eight.
Val44: My friend wrote that. I’ve recently updated it to over 35.
Donovan620: Is she a good friend?
Val44: Yes. Why?
Donovan620: Then you should listen to her. She knows you and probably knows what she’s talking about.
Val44: Yes, but—
His next message popped up before I could finish.
Donovan620: Age is only a number. What’s important is you’re obviously young at heart since you still cannonball, and you’d choose the scenic route over the faster freeway. Don’t say no just yet. Talk to me for a while. See if we connect. Then decide.
Val44: I don’t know, Donovan. I had a child at a young age. My son is not that much younger than you.
Donovan620: A week. Come on. This is my first experience on Match, and you don’t want to ruin that for me. The outcome of this could scar me for life if it goes sideways.
I thought about it for a while. I wasn’t planning on meeting him in person during that time.
Val44: Is it really your first experience on here?
Donovan620: I swear. You can check the join date on my profile.
I figured he didn’t have a reason to lie about something so insignificant, so I took his word for it. Maybe taking the plunge and talking to someone on here for the first time, when it was also his first time, wouldn’t be too bad. I mean, neither of us would have any preconceived notion of how it was supposed to go, which would probably alleviate the stress of feeling like I had no idea what I was doing.
Val44: And we would just chat online for the next week? Not meet in person?
Donovan620: If that’s what you want, yes.
I knew I had to eventually dip my toe back in the water. Why not take a baby step and chat online? Practice. Since it wouldn’t lead to anything at the end of the week, how could it hurt to agree?
Val44: Okay. A week.
***
“You didn’t tell me you were turning your Memorial Day barbeque into a bash.” I handed Eve a glass cake dish filled with my homemade tiramisu. It was her favorite.
“Just a few extra.”
The backyard was visible from the kitchen through a double set of French doors. There had to be fifty people outside, and inside there were a few milling around, too. Normally, the Monroe Memorial Day barbeque capped at twenty.
“A few? Who are all those people? I would have made two desserts.”
Eve waved off my comment with her hand, then dug into the utensil drawer. She pulled out a huge serving spoon and, before I could stop her, scooped a heaping spoonful from the delectable dessert I’d just handed her.
“That took me hours to make!”
“I wasn’t going to share it anyway. Haven’t you ever noticed that every year I hide it in the back of the fridge and accidentally forget to put it out?”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It had been doing that a lot lately. Donovan and I had spent hours messaging back and forth the last four days. We’d even progressed from chatting within the dating app to texting—probably not the smartest move, but at least now I got a text notification when he messaged and didn’t have to open the app every five minutes to see if I’d missed something.
Donovan: Did you leave any of that tiramisu at home?
Valentina: I can’t leave any at home, or I’ll eat it. That stuff is my weakness. I might as well glue some ladyfingers to my ass with the calories in there.
Donovan: Now those sound like delicious ladyfingers…
I felt a little tingle reading that last sentence. He’d been polite in our exchanges, for the most part. But sometimes he’d throw in sexy one-liners like that, and I really sort of liked it.
“Who are you texting?” Eve asked.
“No one.”
She squinted. “No one, huh?”
Tom Monroe saved me from further interrogation. Walking inside from the yard, he wrapped one arm around his wife’s waist from behind, pulled her flush against him, and stole the serving spoon out of her hand. He shoveled a heaping bite of my beautiful tiramisu between his lips and spoke with a full mouth.
“This stuff is better than sex.”
Eve arched an eyebrow at me. “Told you. Old.”
Her husband, used to her playful jabs, ignored her. “Did you meet Jonathon yet?”
Eve elbowed him. “She just got here. I haven’t mentioned Jonathon yet.”
Tom snorted. “Or Will. Or Jack. Or Mike, Adam, or Timmy. Although, I think my wife is wrong and Timmy is gay.”
I fixed my stare on my friend. “What is he talking about?”
Eve took the spoon back from her husband and filled her mouth with more dessert. Pointing at her cheeks, she made garbled sounds to relay her inability to speak.
I looked over her shoulder. “Tom, what did your wife do?”
“She made me invite every single man in my office. I’m guessing you had no idea.”
“Good guess.” I turned to Eve. “Please tell me you didn’t tell them I was single and looking to meet someone.”
“Of course not.”
“Thank God.”
“I told them you were single and looking to get laid.”
My eyes widened to saucers.
Eve reached out and put her hand on my arm. “Kidding.”
“You better be.”
She wriggled out of her husband’s hold and slung her arm around my neck. “Come on, let me introduce you to some people.”
Jonathon turned out to be a really nice guy, although not my personal taste. He was good looking enough. The problem was more his abundant spirituality. I like a man who has strong beliefs, don’t get me wrong. But when someone spends fifteen minutes preaching 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 she wasn’t happy when she hung up.”
“You can say that again. My ex and I don’t agree on much, but we’ve done well at supporting each other’s parental decisions.”
“How long have you been divorced?”
“Nine years. You?”
“How did you know I was divorced?”
“Eve might have mentioned it.”
I forced a smile. “Sorry about that. She means well. But she insists I need to get back into the dating world even though it’s only been eighteen months.”
“Would I be overstepping if I asked how long things weren’t great before the divorce? For me it was at least five years. So when we finally split up, it had been a long time since either of us was happy, and we were both ready to move on.”
“I suppose you’re right. We were separated for two years before the divorce, and things hadn’t been great in a while.” My phone buzzed in my hand, and I looked down.
“Do you want to take that? I can go grab us some drinks. How about a refill for that margarita?”
“I’d love that. Thank you, Adam.”
Returning to my phone, there were three successive texts from Donovan, a minute apart.
Donovan: Got nothing, huh?
Donovan: Admit it. You think I’m hot.
Donovan: Got a buddy who’s on NYFD. I can borrow his uniform if you go out with me.
Valentina: Sorry. I was talking with someone.
Donovan: Man or woman?
Valentina: Why do you ask?
Donovan: Because if it’s a man, I want to know if you think he’s hot, too.
Valentina: You’re pretty full of yourself, aren’t you?
Donovan: Me? You’re the one having hot and sweaty fireman dreams about me.
Valentina: I never said…
My texting was interrupted by another from him. He had fast fingers.
Donovan: Admit it.
Valentina: Why is it so important to you?
Donovan: Because I like you. And if you’re fantasizing about me, there’s a better chance I can talk you into going out with me.
I really wished he were a bit older—even just a few years and into his early thirties would be more appropriate.
Valentina: I like you, too, Donovan. I don’t want to lead you on. I’ve enjoyed this time chatting with you…I really have. But you’re just too young for me.
Donovan: I’m actually not that young. I did some serious thinking about this yesterday. The average life expectancy of a man is 68.5 and for a woman it’s 73.5. That means you’re probably going to live five years longer than me. Therefore, I have a 5 handicap.
Valentina: A handicap?
Donovan: Yeah. Like in golf. I get to add five years to my age. So we’re really only seven years apart, and you can certainly get past that.
I chuckled and shook my head.
Valentina: Nice try. But your logic is flawed. We measure life by how long we’ve been here. Therefore, you receive no handicap.
Donovan: It’s time you changed that outlook, Val. Age shouldn’t be counted by the time we’ve been alive. It should be counted by the years we have left. Look forward, not back.
It was just a funny exchange. I didn’t think it was meant to be profound or anything of the sort. Yet his words hit me. I had been looking back, for a long time now. Donovan was right.
I gulped back the rest of the margarita in my glass and stared at my phone for a long moment. The party was going on all around me, yet everything was suddenly quiet.
I was single.
I hadn’t been happy in a long time.
My son was a grown man and no longer needed me.
Pretty soon, I’d be making a major career change.
Why was I constantly looking back at my failed marriage?
Valentina: I might have daydreamed a little about how you would look in a fireman’s uniform. And…
I took a deep breath.
Valentina: If you still want to go out on a date, let’s do it.
Donovan: You just feel bad for me because I’m going to die five years earlier, don’t you?
I laughed out loud. It felt good. Like taking in a deep breath on the first day of spring.
Valentina: I just had an epiphany. I’m looking for
ward now. And forgetting all my self-imposed rules of the past.
Donovan: Now you’re talking. When do I get to see you in person?
Adam was heading back my way with a filled margarita glass.
Valentina: Can we talk tomorrow? I’ve been rude to the gentleman who just fetched me a drink.
Donovan: Gentleman?
Valentina: Yes…Adam.
My face brightened at yet another forward-thinking thought. Only this one, I probably shouldn’t have shared with Donovan. I was just so damn excited, though.
Valentina: Maybe I’ll go out with Adam, too! Chat tomorrow! Have a good night.
After that, I tucked my phone into my pocket and gave Adam my full attention. The world was suddenly brighter.
Chapter 4
* * *
Valentina
“What the hell do I wear for a date? I haven’t been on one in twenty years.”
I frantically tore through my closet. Everything I owned suddenly seemed to scream soccer mom. I pulled out a new outfit I’d worn a few weeks ago and held it up against me, showing it to Eve.
“Is he taking you to a funeral?”
I actually had bought it for a funeral. Oh my God. I had nothing to wear.
I tossed the hangers on the floor of my closet and joined Eve on the bed. Covering my face with my hands, I grumbled, “I can’t do this. I can’t go.”
“You have a closet full of clothes and a kick-ass figure. There’s something in there you can wear. Besides, all you really need is nice underwear. That’s all he’ll care about.”
My eyes widened. “He’s going to see my underwear tonight? On the first date?”
Eve took pity on me, letting me off the hook easier than she normally did when she screwed with me. “Relax. I’m joking.”
I reached for a tissue on my end table. “Achoo!” My other hand covered my rapidly beating heart. “Thank God. Honestly, I have no idea what he’s expecting. What I’m expecting. What the hell I’m even doing.”
“You’re taking your life back. It’s your turn, Val. That’s what you’re doing. And it’s about damn time.” Eve got up from the bed and walked into the closet. “And if you want to show this young hottie your underwear tonight on the first date, you do that. You do whatever makes you happy. It’s time you put your own needs first.”
