Page 70 of Forty, Flirty & Fall Inn

"Was it though?"

The train lurches gently into motion, and Seattle begins sliding past the windows.Sage immediately presses her face to the glass like a kid, watching the city lights blur into streaks.

"I forgot how pretty it is from the train," she murmurs."Derek always insisted on driving.Said trains were for people who couldn't afford cars."

“Sounds like something an ass would say.”

"Yeah, well, I was engaged to that ass."She turns from the window."What does that say about me?"

"That you have excellent taste in transportation but questionable taste in men?"

"Had.Past tense.My taste has improved."She pauses."I think."

There's a question in her eyes that I'm not ready to answer.Instead, I move to the bar."Drink?"

"God yes.Whatever's strongest."

I pour two whiskeys—the good stuff, because if I'm going to have this conversation, I need liquid courage.The train picks up speed, smooth and steady, carrying us north through the darkness.

"So," Sage says, accepting her glass."A private train car."

"Yes."

"That you bought because you 'like trains.'"

"Yes."

"Bullshit."

I look up sharply.She's watching me with those too-perceptive eyes, curled in the chair like she belongs there.

"I call bullshit," she continues."Nobody buys a train car just because they like trains.They buy model trains.Maybe take a scenic railway tour.They don't purchase rolling stock."

"Rolling stock?Someone's been doing research."

"I googled you.Sue me."She takes a sip of whiskey."So?What's the real reason?"

I sink into the chair across from her.

Outside, the suburbs give way to darkness punctuated by the occasional light.We're in the nowhere space between cities, just us and the rhythm of the rails.

"I bought it seven years ago," I say finally."After my divorce."

"You were married?"

"For eight years."The whiskey burns, but not as much as the memories."Her name was Veronica."

Sage doesn't push, just waits.

It's one of the things I'm learning to appreciate about her.She knows when to be chaotic and when to be still.

"We met at Stanford.Both computer science majors, both ambitious, both convinced we were going to change the world."I stare into my glass."We were perfect on paper.Everyone said so.Complementary skill sets, shared goals, similar backgrounds."

"On paper," Sage repeats softly.

"She was brilliant.Scary brilliant.The kind of person who could look at code and see poetry."I pause."Also the kind of person who could look at people and see opportunities."

"Ah."