Dan frowned, cocking his head first at her and then the space she’d put between them. So much for nonchalant. “It was over two years ago.”
She stilled, her fingers no longer plucking at the string. “Recent then,” she said. And what was that she was feeling? She didn’t know. It was like a cross between dread and fear and heartbreak. And then a thought struck her like a blindside haymaker from a heavyweight. Oh, God! Am I a rebound?
“In some ways it feels recent,” he admitted. “In other ways it feels like a lifetime ago. Maybe even another lifetime. I guess ’cause going through something like that, losing someone you love so unexpectedly, it…changes you. I’m not the same man I was back then. I’m harder in some ways, softer in others. You know what I mean?”
She did. The day her father died was the day her life split in two. There was the Penelope Ann DePaul who’d come before. That girl was footloose and carefree. And there was the Penelope Ann DePaul who’d come after. That woman was a little bit more circumspect and a lot more serious. But that was beside the point. Because…just over two years?
That familiar dull ache in her stomach was joined by a brand-new nauseating pain. “H-have you…” She wasn’t sure how to put what she wanted to say without being indelicate. “Um, what I mean is…” Just spit it out, Penni-pie. No use skating around the truth. “Have you dated much since?”
“Dated?” The look on his face was incredulous. “No.” He shook his head, causing a lock of hair to fall over his forehead, concealing the wound there.
Okay, so was he doing that guy thing where he meant he hadn’t “dated” women but he “shagged” a whole truckload of them? “But you’ve…been with other women, right?”
He narrowed his eyes, lacing his hands behind his head and studying her. “Does it matter?” he asked.
“I-I guess not.” You bet your ass it does! And, shit. That was the first time she’d lied to him. It didn’t sit well. But in her defense, it was like she was in the eye of the storm. Her life, and all her dreams and hopes and fears, were swirling around her at 300 mph.
She didn’t know how she felt about Dan being a widower—other than knowing she felt terribly sorry for him and the loss he’d suffered. She didn’t know what it meant for the future she’d hoped might be possible. She didn’t know if it changed—
Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? You haven’t even told him what you came to tell him.
True. Too true. And maybe now was the time. You know, what with so many emotional Molotov cocktails having already been thrown. Blowing out a deep breath, scolding her stupid heart for being lily-livered and sinking down to hide somewhere around the vicinity of her knees, she opened her mouth—
“You’re the first,” he said, preempting what she’d been about to say.
“I’m sorry?”
“Since my wife.”
“Come again?” She heard his words but they weren’t computing. Or maybe she just didn’t want them to compute. And goddamnit! The room had shrunk again. She would swear the ceiling was slowly falling, getting ready to crush her.
“There haven’t been any others,” he said.
“Oh-kay.” That’s what she said. What she thought was Oh, Christ on the cross! I am the rebound! She felt like crying. Or puking. Or maybe screaming? So she was completely surprised when her next words were “What was her name?”
A brilliant smile spread across his face when he unhooked his hands from behind his head and turned slightly, tapping the traditional heart-and-arrow tattoo on his shoulder.
“What?” She blinked, confused.
“It was Patti,” he said at the same time she leaned closer, examining the design. Sure enough. The ink had faded, the tattoo obviously years old, but underneath the heart, inside a waving scrap of ribbon was his wife’s name: Patti.
“She spelled it with an I,” she mused almost to herself. “Just like I spell my name.”
“She did.” Dan nodded, watching her closely.
“Weird coincidence,” she said. Then a thought occurred. A terrible thought. An ugly thought. She was the first woman he’d been with after his wife. And his wife’s name was Patti spelled with an I. And her name was Penni spelled with an I. “Is that why you gave me that nickname in Malaysia?” she asked, her voice wobbling, her heart pounding. The room spinning and spinning and spinning.
Something flitted across his face. Something that made her breath catch. “Penni,” he said, “I—” But then he just stopped, snapping his mouth shut, the muscle in his jaw twitching spasmodically. He wasn’t going to lie to her.
“Oh my God!” She slapped a hand over her mouth and jumped from the bed. “You were afraid you’d call me by the wrong name, weren’t you?”