“No.” Now babies are the big issue for Rosie. She has a perfect life except for one flaw. Well, two. We’ll get to the second one in a minute. She’s happily married to a lawyer. She was a paralegal at the same firm just as he was getting divorced from his wife. I know, but I don’t know if Kevin knows, that she was waiting for that marriage to end. She sensed it in his wife’s disinterest in the firm, and she told me, more than ten years ago when she first started working with him, that she suspected he was having an affair.

We were both single and cruising for men, or at least dance partners, at the Top of the Park. We met at an early-morning jazzercise class, carrying coffee in with our gym bags. “At least I get to dance,” I commented one morning, wiping off sweat with my towel.

“You like to dance? So. Let’s go together,” Rosie suggested.

“You’re on.” And we exchanged phone numbers.

That night at the Top of the Park, the band played classic rock and we met near the beer tent. Allie was with us. Rosie wore a flower haltered sundress that showed off her tan and her toned arms and shoulder bones. Her hair wasn’t short then but hung down heavy and straight. She had a shine about her, such a blaze that every man who passed us did a double take.

“We look gorgeous tonight,” I joked at their glances. “And Rosie, you look absolutely spectacular. What’s with that? New man?”

And she blushed. That was a dead giveaway.

“Uh-oh.” Allie saw it, too. “So. So. So! As you would say. Tell us.”

“It’s nothing. Not yet. But maybe.”

“One of those secret crushes?”

“Well. He’s married.”

Allie and I both rolled our eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes. He’s unhappy. I can tell. And I think maybe he’s having an affair, or thinking about it, or just wanting one. Or just miserable at home. His wife’s a bitch.”

“How old is this dude? Where’d you meet him?”

Rosie gulped some of her Red Rock and said, “He’s one of the lawyers at the firm and he’s about twenty or so years older. In his late forties, early fifties.”

I looked at her and she’s glowing as though she’s happiest when she’s with him, and if not, then talking about him is almost as good.

“He’s so lonely. He hangs around after work, we all go out for drinks—all of us—nothing inappropriate. But he blushes every time he sees me. It’s soooo cute. And he’s Puerto Rican, so the blush is subtle, only on his neck.”