"I know."
"But fear isn't logical."
Sophia nodded.
"No."
She rested her head again.
"My fear is being wrong."
"About me?"
"About everything."
She continued.
"I was certain about Daniel."
"Certain enough to plan wedding."
"Now every good feeling comes with part of my brain asking what I'm missing."
Jake held her closer.
"What if you're missing something?"
Sophia looked up.
He said:
"You probably are."
Her eyebrows rose.
"Romantic."
Jake smiled.
"I'm serious."
"We will disappoint each other."
"We will misunderstand."
"I'll say stupid things."
"You'll definitely say stupid things."
"Exactly."
Sophia laughed.
Jake continued.
"The question isn't whether we can predict every hurt."
"It's what we do after."
That stayed with her.
After Daniel, Sophia had been obsessed with detection.
Red flags.
Signs.
Certainty.
Jake offered something less secure and more real.
Repair.
Not prevention of all damage.
Repair after.
She kissed his chest.
"Mechanic philosophy."
"Exactly."
They slept.
In morning, Sophia woke before him.
Jake's face looked younger asleep.
She watched for several seconds.
Then quietly smiled.
This was dangerous.
She wanted it anyway.
March brought the first real conflict.
Not Daniel.
Not Rachel.
Molly.
Sophia had begun spending more time at Jake's house.
Molly liked her.
Mostly.
Then one Saturday Sophia arrived and found Molly unusually quiet.
At dinner, Molly barely spoke.
Afterward she disappeared upstairs.
Jake shrugged.
"Eight."
Sophia did not.
She followed later and knocked.
"Molly?"
No answer.
"Can I come in?"
"Whatever."
Sophia entered.
Molly sat on bed holding a photograph.
Rachel.
Sophia understood immediately.
She sat on floor rather than bed.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
Sophia almost smiled at inherited word.
"Molly."
The girl looked at her.
"Aunt Emily moved Mom's Christmas box."
"Okay."
"I couldn't find it."
"I'm sorry."
Molly's eyes filled.
"You keep coming here."
Sophia went very still.
"Yes."
"Dad is happy."
Sophia waited.
"Everybody likes you."
Still waited.
Molly whispered:
"What if he forgets Mom?"
There.
Sophia's chest hurt.
She moved slowly.
Did not touch Molly until girl allowed.
"Your dad will never forget your mom."
"You don't know."
"I do."
"How?"
"Because he talks about her."
"Because he loves her."
Molly stared.
Sophia continued:
"And I don't want him to forget."
"You're not mad?"
"No."
"That he still loves her?"
Sophia considered answer carefully.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because love isn't a chair."
Molly frowned.
"What?"
Sophia smiled slightly.
"If I sit in one chair, somebody else can't sit there."
"Love isn't like that."
"Your dad can love your mom and love you and maybe love me someday without taking anything away."
Molly looked down.
"Maybe?"
Sophia realized wording.
She laughed softly.
"I'm trying not to scare him."
Molly almost smiled.
Then serious again.
"What if you leave?"
That question hurt more.
Sophia understood source.
Adults left.
Mom died.