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Because the very last thing I need in my life is someone who makes me feel like there’s not enough oxygen in my lungs when I’ve only just caught my breath.
I consider offering her an aspirin from my truck, or an orgasm. I hear those help too.
I want to know more about Winter Valentine. Like when that divorce is happening.
One of my dad’s clients, and the man who is sitting beside her, staring at her like she can shoot rainbows out of her vagina or something.
“Please do not finish that sentence. Any analogy that compares me to mushy cereal is just . . . no, Rhett. No.” “But the maple syrup I like to put in it reminds me of—”
“That would be cruel because my self-worth is very tangled up in whether people like me. Being well-liked is my best quality.”
“Careful, that one’s got claws,” Cade offers right as Willa shoves a pointy elbow into his ribs. I grin. “That’s okay. I like having my back scratched.”
“I think I like you because you are a heart-stopping, jaw-dropping type of beautiful.”
“Less fucks and more play. I like this strategy for you.”
“Likeable when I want to be could be my slogan.”
I can resent him and still like his ass. That’s perfectly acceptable.
“I think she’s okay. Happy but overwhelmed, if that makes sense?” “That makes perfect sense. If I wrote a dictionary, that might be the definition I put under motherhood.”
“Maybe I don’t care. Maybe I want to be messy with you forever.”
“That night we were reckless.” His voice cracks. “But god, I’d be reckless with you over and over again if it means ending up here.”
