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think I tripped, and in an instant I was lying face down on the pavement.
    I lay there for a second, my brain trying to figure out what, if any, body parts I’d injured. The only things I felt throbbing were both of my knees, and my gut reaction was to be thankful because I realized I could move all of my limbs, no problem.
    The next thing that happened is bizarre. I heard a man’s voice. “Are you okay?”
    I sat up, still in shock from the fall, and looked up. Kneeling over me was a really nice looking guy. He had salt and pepper hair that was mostly salt, and I was guessing he was about my age or a little older. “Um…I think so,” I said softly, while I looked into his kind, comforting blue eyes.
    “Let me help you up,” he said, taking my hands and lifting me to my feet, making me feel like some superhero was rescuing me. Although, who was I kidding? There were no superheroes living in my neighborhood, and even if there were, they were undoubtedly married.
    When I stood up, I noticed the guy’s body. It was nice. Not perfect, like Preston’s, but strong and defined. He had a little belly, but it was obvious he made an effort when it came to his physique.
    The next thing I noticed was blood on the ground. Panic set in, as I wondered what part of my body was dripping blood.
    “Wow, you fell pretty hard,” the guy said. He was looking at my knees. When I looked down, I was relieved that the extent of my injuries were scrapes on my knee caps that looked like the ones Izzie got when she fell off her bike the prior summer. That being said, they hurt like hell. I now understood the thirty minute crying episode my daughter had at the time. But even more concerning than the stinging and throbbing and burning pain and blood gushing, was the fact that I’d have to go out tonight with band-aids on my knees. ‘Real sexy…’ I thought to myself. Maybe I’d wear jeans instead of the little black dress.
    “Really, are you okay?” the guy asked with a nervous chuckle.
    “Yeah,” I replied. Then I burst out laughing.
    The guy started laughing a little bit, but mostly he was just watching me, waiting for me to finish laughing, I think.
    “I’m sorry,” I said in between giggles, “I can’t believe that just happened.”
    Now the guy started laughing a little, but it was more out of obligation, in other words if he laughed, he’d be agreeing with me.
    “I’m horrified,” I said, my chuckling subsiding, “I mean, what a klutz!”
    “Please,” the guy said, “I’ve taken worse spills than that.”
    “Sober?”
    The guy laughed. “No,” he said. And we both smiled.
    This whole thing seemed so strange. I had just fallen on my face, my knees were bloody, and I was standing here laughing about it with a very attractive married guy with kids (I assumed he was married even though I didn’t spot a ring) who I instantly liked. I mean, really liked. He was good looking. Not hot, like Preston, but it wasn’t really his looks that were causing instant adoration. There was something else. Something more. Something strangely comfortable, and this air he had about him that was putting me at ease. I felt like he’d been my friend for years.
    “Look, I’m Luke Sullivan,” he said, extending his hand.
    I shook it. “Emma. Emma Bloom.”
    Luke smiled. “See that house?” he asked, pointing into the distance, “That’s where I live. Let’s walk over there and I’ll treat your bruises.” I must have looked at him like he had three heads, because he gave me a wide grin and added, “I’m not a psycho killer. I’m a trader. I work downtown at the Board of Trade. I’m a good guy, I promise. I have two kids and a wife who decided last year she doesn’t want me anymore. Technically, I’m still married, just because getting divorced takes forever. I don’t date. I work a lot. I spend time with my boys, and when I’m not with them, I watch sports with my guy friends…the ones whose wives let them go out with