“I just assumed you’d married money,” he said, then raised a hand. “Not in the hooker sense. Just in the beautiful women tend to gravitate toward wealthy men sense.”
“It didn’t work out that way. My first husband was a race car driver, but then he crashed and if you can’t drive, you can’t earn money. My last husband made me think he was rich, but he was lying.”
And hadn’t that been a bitter discovery, she thought, telling herself she’d moved on from the disappointment. She reached for another taquito.
“You have a sweet ride for a working girl,” he said, grabbing a taquito and dipping it in the guacamole.
She smiled at the mention of her BMW 3 Series. “She is pretty, isn’t she? She cost me a Hermes Birkin crocodile handbag, but she was worth it.”
Adam frowned. “I don’t understand,” he admitted.
“I sold a handbag and bought my new-to-me car with the proceeds.”
“No handbag is worth a car.”
“You say this as a women’s accessory expert?”
His confusion morphed into complete bafflement. “But it’s just a purse. My mom has a purse. How can there be one worth thirty or forty thousand dollars?”
“It’s a Birkin bag. A crocodile Birkin bag.”
“But...”
She patted his hand. “You’re going to have to trust me on this. When I leave, you can look them up online and later you can apologize.”
He still looked shell-shocked, which was kind of sweet. She liked that the world of high fashion and ridiculous prices was foreign to him. No doubt he would assume that one of her husbands had given her the bag, which was fine with her. She saw no need to tell him how she’d earned it. She might enjoy his company, but she didn’t know him well enough to trust him with a secret like that.
“You live a life I can’t imagine,” he admitted.
“I did, but not anymore. Now I’m just a regular person.”
“How does that feel?”
No way she was going to get into that pit of failure. She gave him a bright smile. “I’m ready to be back in the States. I’m not excited about starting over, but this time I’m determined to make better decisions. And that’s enough about me. Tell me about yourself, Adam. You live here alone?”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t have invited you over for drinks if I was involved with someone.” He picked up his drink. “Let me clarify that by saying I’m offering information, not assuming this is anything more than friendly. I’m smart enough to know my place in the universe and mine is not with the likes of you.”
She waited for the jab that was sure to follow, but he didn’t seem to have anything else to say on the topic.
“What does that mean?” she asked cautiously.
“That you’re you and I’m me.”
“So not lovers, but we could be friends?”
The smile returned. “Is my luck that good?”
“You’re teasing me.”
“A little. But in a gentle, supportive way.”
“Why aren’t you married?”
“I was. She died two years ago.”
Sage hadn’t been expecting that. “I’m sorry,” she said automatically. “That’s when you bought the house from your mom.”
“It is. I needed a change of scene, as they say. She had an undiagnosed heart condition. One day she stood up at work, had a heart attack and died.”
“That must have been horrible.”
“It was.”
“I’ve never lost anyone that way,” she admitted. “Through death. The closest would be my dad. He just took off and left me and my mom, but that was a long time ago.”
“It would have been difficult, though.”
“It was. And the divorces.”
“Yes, the race car driver and the Italian husband.”
There was also Ellery, but she didn’t talk about him to anyone. “He was a Count. Or Conte, as they say in Italian.”
“Making you a Contessa?”
She laughed. “Yes, that was me for about fifteen minutes.”
“It sounds exciting.”
“In some ways. His family owns a very old house and a lot of land. There was plenty of history to be found, but also leaking roofs, bad plumbing and a chronic rodent infestation.” She didn’t mention how he dumped her for a slightly older woman with more money than Denmark. A truth that had stung more than a little.
“So only romantic on the outside.” He reached for another taquito. “Do you ever see Daisy?”
Until a few days ago, she would have said not since high school and been happy with that amount of distance. While she could still go the rest of her life without seeing her former stepsister, she knew saying so made her sound awful.
“Just last week. Why? Are you two close?”
“Not at all. I haven’t seen her since high school.”
“She’s married with two kids. Right now they’re battling the flu.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you two were in touch. It’s nice that you stayed friends. She’s great. I always liked her.”
Based on what she’d said, he’d made the logical assumption that she and Daisy still had some kind of relationship and it wasn’t one that involved wishing each other dead. For some reason she couldn’t explain, Sage wanted him to think she was better than she was and now he did. But knowing she’d fooled him didn’t sit well with her and while she was enjoying herself, she knew she couldn’t stay. Not when she was lying about pretty much everything.
She drained her margarita and stood. “This was really nice, Adam. Thank you for inviting me over.”
She half expected him to protest her leaving, but he only smiled at her.
“Thanks for coming over.”
She waved and walked through his house and back to her own. When she got to her bedroom, she went to the window and carefully closed the blinds, then sat on the bed and covered her face with her hands.
She could deal with her life being shit—she hadn’t expected any more when she’d moved back. What she hadn’t counted on was the fact that she couldn’t see a way out. Which would have been something she could manage if only she’d been able to pretend that she wasn’t the problem. Because her being the problem implied the only thing standing between her and happiness was herself, and how on earth was she supposed to fix that?