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368 pages, Hardcover
First published November 4, 2014
Technically I was the fool in this case. Here’s a tip for all you out there: read the blurb in depth because your cause of complaint may actually have no merit.
Marguerite is swept into an epic love affair that feels both dangerous and inevitable…
My hands shake as I brace myself against the brick wall.
Sometimes I think: Perhaps you're being too hard on these books. Why are you a picky reader? Maybe you should stop overthinking things?
"You are not my Marguerite. And yet, you are. This essential thing you share - your soul - that is what I love.
I would love you in any shape, in any world, with any past. Never doubt that."
“I would love you in any shape, in any world, with any past. Never doubt that.”
“What?” His face pales so suddenly that I think for a moment he might pass out. “What—you said—Henry’s dead? He’s dead?”
The astonishment and pain I see are very real. Some people are good enough actors to feign shock, but shy, uncertain Paul Markov has never had that kind of game. There’s no way he could fake this kind of horror, or the tears I can see welling in his eyes.
It hits me then, a blow more stupefying than sharp: Paul didn’t kill my father.
I fell in love with one Paul. I fell in love with his unchanging soul. Does that mean I fell in love with every Paul, everywhere?