Second First Kiss

Again, not the point. “But are you getting the idea yet? Because then there was Leo.”

“Your husband.” Jasher looked like he’d resigned himself to hearing the story out. Also, he probably knew this had to be the last entry in the saga. “That’s a selfie near a waterfall. What, no wedding photos?”

“We eloped.” So that Sage wouldn’t have to go through a ceremony involving a ring. She’d gotten wise to the curse by that point, or so she’d thought. “Whirlwind romance.”

“How long did you date?”

That was the shame of it. “Not long.”

“How long?”

“A weekend.”

Jasher sat back. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I were. I didn’t know the guy at all. We met, and I was at a place in my life where I was ready for marriage. For whatever reason, it felt good. I thought if we just tied the knot, skipped all formalities, I could bypass the curse.”

“Sage.”

“Jasher—he died within days. We’d barely had a honeymoon.” What there’d been of it, which wasn’t much, what with all the drinking he’d done at the wedding.

He half-shut his eyes. “So you’re saying … you’ve never been happily married?”

A massive, shuddering sigh racked Sage’s lungs and body. “Again, not the point. Even if it’s true.”

Why on earth did he have a look on his face like the cat who got the canary? She couldn’t even deal right now with him. He wasn’t even listening. And this was important. It was real. “Leo died, Jasher, because of me. Whether or not I regret losing him is beside the point.”

“What were the circumstances of Leo’s untimely death? Just so I can process.”

Fine. Sage laid out for him the series of bad surprises that hit her during that full week of marriage to Leo. The bad temper, the alcohol binges, the personality shift. And then she related the horrors of the day he died at the construction site.

Heavy equipment should be operated by responsible adults, not by guys like Leo, it turned out.

“It all occurred so fast—meeting, eloping, his death—it almost feels like it happened to someone else, not to me.”

Jasher took her hand. He leaned his head back on the couch. “You have a popcorn ceiling.”

“I know. I like popcorn—of almost all kinds.”

“Me, too. I even kind of like popcorn ceilings.” Jasher sat up. “Sage, I never want to be someone who minimizes how you feel or to brush aside something you believe.”

Good. “I feel a but coming next.”

“No, I’ll respect that you believe it, whether I do or not.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you think your willingness to give these men a chance at your love caused them pain. I believe that love always has a potential for pain.”

“So you do believe me.”

“What I believe is that you have known me longer than you knew any of these guys. That you and I are more compatible than you were with any of these other men. That you are infinitely more attracted to me than you were with any of these other guys.”

All true. But—again—beside the point. “Which makes my connection with you all the more dangerous. The bigger the feeling, the bigger the risk to any man I even tentatively commit to. Don’t you see the crescendo of harm? Leo died.”

Jasher put both his arms around Sage. “You have been through a lot. In fact, I’d venture to say you have had some of the most distressing history of relationships I’ve ever heard of.”

Right? “Seriously.” She melted into his embrace and his empathy.