This is the moment of truth, and in that moment of truth, I find that there’s a part of me that’s still a coward. That still wants to run and hide in an existence full of loneliness and Netflix and a cat who may very well hate me. A comforting, flatlined life where nothing dies but nothing really grows either.

“All right.” I run a finger over his torso, mustering a fake smile. “I’ll think about what to write on the invitation.” I cup his erection. It’s swollen and full in my hand. But when I try to kiss his neck, he withdraws with a cold smile.

“You do that, Ever. I’ll give you some time to write it down.”

He wrestles a tee onto his body, grabs his keys, and leaves.

I don’t know when Joe comes back, but it is sometime in the middle of the night. When he walks inside, the room smells like it has been drenched in whiskey and cigarettes. He falls next to me on the mattress and starts snoring. I lie there, immobile and awake, my heart thudding wildly.

I want to invite him to San Francisco.

I want to be with him.

It is stupid, not to mention unreasonable, to be dismantled by something as crazy as thinking we’re cursed. So irrational I cannot even articulate it to him without sounding like an idiot.

I toss and turn the entire night. My flight back to San Francisco is tonight, and I still don’t know what I’m going to do. Joe expects an answer about where we stand.

Morning washes over the sky. I stand up and walk to the window, looking outside. Joe’s bedroom faces the back of a market. The scents of the catch of the day, herbs, spices, and cooking rise up from the street.

I turn back around and advance toward the bed. I press my palm against his cheek. He is beautiful, warm, and alive. My heart clenches at the sight of him. It’s always been like this. I never could resist the magic in Joseph Graves. And it occurs to me, depressingly, that really, I have nothing to offer to this guy. He is talented, gorgeous, and completely fantastic. He is fully baked, with his own personality, and traits, and ideas, and wishes. Me, I can barely figure out what I want to do with my life. I will only slow him down. And he would let me. Because that is the kind of guy Joe is.

I am doing him a disservice by sleeping with him, by messing with what he has left of his late brother—the precious memories they share together.

And even if I could overcome all my insecurities—which, let’s admit it, is a stretch—I’m still left with one uncomfortable fact: I think something bad will happen if we become a couple.