I'm asking you to risk your heart.

Just my heart, that's all.

I managed to stifle a nervous laugh. After Anthony, getting involved with anyone felt like it was risking far more than just my heart. My sanity. My freedom. My life.

After two years as a widow, that should've felt melodramatic. It didn't. I'd been alone all this time for a reason.

Stalling for time, I looked through the front windshield of the truck and saw that Gage had pulled in front of a Middle Eastern restaurant. A few days ago I'd mentioned having a craving for falafel and now he brought me here, because he’d been listening and he remembered. I closed my eyes and tried to think.

Gage was not Anthony. And I was not a victim. Not anymore. I didn't want to lose a chance for something good because I was scared. Getting involved with Gage might blow up in my face. It probably would. But I would regret not taking the chance. I had enough regrets for a lifetime.

I opened my eyes and said, “Let's go have lunch.”

Gage dropped his head and pressed his lips to mine. I leaned into his kiss, feeling like I was at the top of a roller coaster, ready to fall. All I could do was hang on for the ride.

After our conversation in the car, lunch was a relief, comfortable and easy. The food was good, the falafel crunchy and spicy. Gage joked that he'd seen enough of sand for a lifetime, but he loved the food over there. He ate enough for two people, but I'd seen how much time he put in in the gym.

We shared sticky, sweet baklava for dessert before Gage led me from the restaurant and down the street to a funky little café with the name Annabelle's painted on the window. Inside, chairs and tables were arranged in a seemingly haphazard pattern, each set hand-painted with a different theme.

An eclectic selection of artwork hung on the walls, everything from watercolors to photographs, to mixed media sculpture, each discreetly tagged with the price and artist information. There was a bookshelf in the back stuffed with paperbacks puzzles and games.

Nearby, two couches and a handful of armchairs surrounded a coffee table where a lively game of Monopoly appeared to be in progress. The line at the counter was at least ten people long, the three baristas on the other side moving in clockwork synchronicity.

Gage led us to the back of the line and wound his arm around my shoulders, pulling me tight to his side. Annabelle's was lively and interesting, and it smelled deliciously of freshly brewed coffee, chocolate, and vanilla, but it wasn't quiet.

Leaning down, his lips brushed my ear as he said, “We went to school with Annabelle, and Aiden actually gave her the loan to start this place when she was still in college. She has the best coffee in town, but her hot chocolate is out of this world. I don't know what she does to it, but there's nothing like it.”

“Gage!” A tall, rangy woman with warm brown eyes and long cinnamon colored hair ducked around the end of the counter, a wide smile on her face. She threw herself into Gage's arms. “You're home! Charlie told me you were back. I'm so sorry I haven't gotten over to see you. This time of year it's a mad house around here.”

Gage gave her a tight hug and kissed her cheek. I tried not to be jealous. He’d just told me they were old friends. His arm still around her, he turned her to face me and said, “Annabelle, this is Sophie. Sophie, Annabelle of the amazing hot chocolate.”

Annabelle's face brightened when she heard my name and her smile grew wider. “So this is Sophie. Charlie says you’re a miracle worker. She says you're the only one who can keep her aunt Amelia in line without starting World War III.”

Annabelle's enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself smiling back, forgetting my momentary flash of jealousy. She led us to a cozy table for two in the corner. When Gage tried to pay, she waved him off. “Another time. This is a special occasion. I'm sorry I can't talk, I have to get back behind the counter, but if I don't see you before, I'll see you at the wedding.” A quick kiss to Gage's cheek and a shoulder squeeze for me and Annabelle was gone in a swirl of cinnamon-colored hair.

“Is she always like that?” I asked.

“Totally genuine and packed with enough energy for twenty people?” Gage asked with a grin. I nodded. “Pretty much. You'd think it's all the espresso, but she was like that when she was a kid.”

Annabelle reappeared just long enough to give us our hot chocolate, a thick slice of red velvet cake, and say she’d have someone bring us a hot cocoa for Charlie when Gage mentioned that was our next stop. I thought I was full from lunch, but Gage had been right, Annabelle's hot chocolate was the best thing I'd ever tasted. This was what chocolate dreamt of – sweet, creamy, and rich with just a hint of bitterness to keep it from tasting like chocolate syrup.

The red velvet cake was almost as good, and I wondered if she baked it in-house. Either way, now that I'd finally been to Annabelle's, I knew I'd be back. I'd been meaning to come here for months—Charlie talked about it all the time—but with Amelia's low sugar diet, bringing her to a place packed with dessert cases was asking for trouble. Since I spent most of my time with Amelia, I'd never been here before.

Charlie's hot chocolate appeared on the table, delivered by one of the baristas from behind the counter. Annabelle was nowhere to be seen as we left. Gage held my hand as he walked me back to the truck, opening the door for me and waiting until I was settled before closing it and rounding the truck to get in himself.

My head spun a little at the sheer normalcy of the afternoon. We were just two people eating lunch together and sharing a slice of cake. Nothing weird about that, right? Except that I couldn't remember the last time I’d been on a date. Not one like this. My dates with Anthony had been formal affairs, dinners in fine restaurants and a chaste kiss at my door.

“Have you seen the new place Charlie and Lucas bought?” Gage asked as he started the truck.

“Not yet,” I said. “But the last one they did was amazing.”

Just before Thanksgiving, Charlie and Lucas had finished rehabbing a mid-century modern house in the Virginia Highlands, not far from where they lived. Lucas had proposed to Charlie there the day they finished the house, and not a week later it was under contract. I wasn't surprised. I didn't know much about real estate, but I knew what looked good and that house had been beautiful.

I'd heard their newest purchase was a dump. If you went by Aiden's opinion, it was going to collapse on Charlie's head any second, though Lucas had reassured him the foundation and basic structure were sound. When we pulled up in front of the modest Craftsman bungalow, I could see Aiden's point. My opinion must have shown on my face because Gage took one look at me and burst out laughing.

“I'm sure they can fix this, right?” I said, doubtfully. The roof over the porch sagged alarmingly. Most of the front steps were missing, and two of the four windows facing the street were boarded up. The house was a nondescript grayish color that might have originally been green. Or purple. Or blue. Now it was just sad.

“According to Vance, Charlie and Lucas's house was this bad when she bought it. Everyone thought she was nuts, but you’ve seen it, haven't you?”

I had. Charlie and Lucas's house was a showpiece, every inch of it restored with loving care and a sharp eye for good design. Aiden had commented that she could put it back on the market and make a tidy profit, but Charlie and Lucas had fallen in love putting that house back together. Neither of them would sell it for any amount of money. I found it hard to believe their house had ever been this bad.

“If you say so,” I said, willing to give Charlie and Lucas the benefit of the doubt. After all, they knew what they were doing. What I knew about restoring homes wouldn't fill a postcard.

Gage helped me out of the truck, carrying Charlie's hot chocolate in one hand. “She said to go in through the back.”

I followed him through the side yard, picking my way carefully across the scrubby grass and around discarded piles of trash. Based on the dented beer cans, damp cardboard, and other junk, it looked like Charlie hadn't gotten around to cleaning up the mess left behind by the former owners.

Charlie met us at the back door, swinging it open and stepping down to the concrete blocks she’d put in place of actual stairs. Her chin length auburn curls were pulled back beneath a beat-up ball cap, and her eyes lit when she caught sight of the paper cup in Gage’s hand.

“You brought me Annabelle’s!” She jumped over the remaining stairs, meeting us in the grass, and snagged the cup from Gage. “I owe you one,” she said, taking a long sip.

“I think it's the other way around,” Gage said.

“Whatever.” Her eyes drifted down, and she caught sight of Gage's hand holding mine. Raising one eyebrow, she said to me, “So, are you giving Gage a trial run?”

Gage bit back a laugh, and I shrugged a shoulder. “Kind of,” I said.

“Good for you. I'd say he's a lot to handle, but you’re used to managing Amelia. One of the Winters men is child's play compared to that.”

This time, Gage didn't bother to bite back his laugh. I couldn't help but join in. Keeping a handle on Amelia took every bit of creativity and tenacity I had. I still wasn't sure I could manage Gage, but I was going to try.

Gage dropped my hand and put his arm around me. My phone rang in my pocket, and I pulled it out, hearing him say to Charlie, “Do you have that jump drive you were talking about? I finished those reports. When you get a chance, I want to sit down and—”

I stopped listening as I studied the screen of my phone. The number read as UNKNOWN. I hit the button to answer and held it up to my ear. “Hello?” Silence. Something in the background. A voice? I couldn't make it out. “Hello?” I said, again.

Just as I was about to hang up a man said, “Sophie. I've missed the sound of your voice.”

The phone slipped from my fingers, striking a broken chunk of concrete at my feet. The plastic case cracked, the noise cutting through Gage and Charlie's conversation.

I heard Gage say my name, felt his eyes on me. I stared down at the phone, imagining I still heard that voice, the way he’d said my name. Sophie. Before we got married, I’d loved the way my name sounded when he said it. Almost reverent. Worshipful. Later, it turned my heart to ice.

I heard it again, my name, this time in Gage’s low rumble instead of Anthony's smooth, cultured tones. Gage’s strong hands closed over my shoulders, turning me to face him. “Who was it? What did they say?”

I looked up at him, eyes wide, not really seeing anything past my shock. It must've been a trick. It had to have been a trick because Anthony was dead. The policeman came to my door and told me Anthony was dead.

“Sophie, who called you?” Charlie asked, gently. I shook my head, not wanting to answer, not wanting to put that horror of a phone call into words.

“Angel, take a deep breath,” Gage said, stepping to the side and pulling me back, away from my broken phone and into his arms. I leaned into his strong body, breathing in his scent. Finally, I whispered, “It was Anthony. It couldn't have been, but it was.”

Gage's arms tightened around me. Over my head, I heard him say to Charlie, “Call Cooper, find out if he's at Winters House or if he's still at the office. Tell him Sophie got a weird call, we need her phone checked, and the screen is cracked, so she’ll need a new one. Find out where he is and we’ll meet him.”

The door to the house opened and shut as Charlie went in to make the call. Gage rested his chin on the top of my head and rubbed his hand up and down my spine, soothing me. I was such a fucking mess. Just the sound of his voice, two years later, and I was ready to curl into a ball and weep with terror. The worst moments of my marriage poured through my brain in a kaleidoscope of misery and fear.

I leaned into Gage, staring at the scrubby grass of Charlie’s yard. Anthony was the past. He couldn’t hurt me now. Eventually, my heartbeat slowed and my breathing evened out. Gage must've felt my body relaxing into him because he said, “You okay?”

I shook my head against his chest. No, I was not okay. I'd just gotten a phone call from my dead husband.

“You're sure that was Anthony?” Gage asked, carefully.

I let out a sigh. “Sure it was Anthony's voice,” I said. “It couldn't be Anthony. Anthony's dead.”

“I feel like an ass for asking this, but are you sure?”

I stepped back a little and looked up into Gage's worried face. “The police said there wasn't much left of the body, but there was enough to identify him. They were sure it was Anthony.”

Charlie came back out of the house. She handed something to Gage that looked like a USB drive and said, “Cooper was just leaving the office. He grabbed Sophie a replacement phone and said to bring that one and meet him at Winters House. He'll find out who made the call.” Looking at me with warm, concerned eyes, she said, “Cooper will figure this out. That's his job. You'll feel better once you know where that call came from and why.”

Gage retrieved my phone and tucked it into his pocket. We were quiet on the drive back to Winters House, both of us lost in thought, Gage’s hand holding mine all the way.