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All that order makes me wonder. In my experience, when somebody clings that tightly to a sense of control, it’s because something happened to them at some point in their lives that made them feel powerless.
Then I lay down and slip into a light slumber. A soldier’s sleep—the kind you wake from easily.
Riona is desperate to seem strong and independent. But the truth is she’s fragile in the way that all women are fragile—smaller than men and vulnerable to violence.
“You like to cook?” “No. I hate it, actually.” “Why?” “All that work just to make something that’s gone five minutes later.” I don’t tell him the other reason—I hate doing anything that’s expected of me just because I’m a woman. Cooking, cleaning, childcare . . . I bristle against the idea that I should want to do those things. That I should let them consume me while men spend their hours on more “important” work.
He’s the head of the family, and she’s his right hand. I don’t want to be anybody’s hand.
I know nowadays people think they get married as equals. But when it comes down to it, someone’s career and someone’s goals have to come first. If one of you gets a job offer in New York and the other in LA, how do you pick where to go? Selfishness is a recipe for divorce. I’m just going to skip all those middle steps and stay single all along. I like my own company. I like my own life.
Sometimes I get the uncomfortable feeling that Raylan can read every thought in my head.
As we enter the huge, bright kitchen, I remember that this is where Riona and I first met. I glance over at her to see if she’s thinking the same thing. I catch her eye, making a little tinge of pink appear on her pale cheeks. I don’t know why I get such a kick from getting a rise out of her. I guess it’s because she’s so determined to keep that perfectly composed demeanor at all times. It’s like she’s setting up a challenge for me. And I’ve always been one to rise to a challenge.
It never ceases to amaze me how even the bitterest of enemies can become friends. Or the reverse.”
It’s always funny to see the little habits in families—the gestures passed along like a silent code that only the members would recognize.
he’s been getting up with a newborn. You can’t hide that haggard-but-happy look of new parents.
“I don’t know what it is about interrupted sleep. Even if you get eight hours, it’s not the same.”
I never sleep eight hours straight through anymore. Too many nights sleeping on sand or rock or dirt, always having to keep one ear open for interruptions—the kind of interruptions that can kill you. You never really recover that deep and peaceful slumber.
Riverdale.
“Don’t come back,” he grunts as he cracks the door for us once more. Cal turns and fixes him with a cold stare. “Don’t give me a reason to.”
Fucking around with wooden sticks is the reason you don’t see a lot of overweight Thai people, I bet.
“I like any book that puts you inside somebody’s head,”
Raylan is observant. His laid-back attitude doesn’t fool me--it’s obvious he sees a lot more than he lets on and files it all away.
“You like watching people.” “Yeah,” he nods. “I do.” “Why?” “People are interesting.” “I find most people pretty boring.” “Am I boring?” He grins. “No,” I admit. “You’re not.”
I have the strangest mixture of annoyance and admiration for him. I want to fucking beat him—I don’t know why it’s so important to me, but it is. And at the same time, a tiny secret part of me doesn’t want him to quit. I know myself—I’m always looking for people to show weakness. To fail. And then I have disdain for them. A tiny piece of me wants Raylan to force me to respect him.
“You’d rather kill yourself than let me win?”
I know it’s good advice, but I hate the way he thinks he knows what’s best for me.
“What’s your problem?” Raylan demands. “I’m only here to help you.” “I don’t need your help!” “The fuck you don’t.”
He’s not letting go of my arm, and that really pisses me off. I shove him hard in the chest, feeling how hot he is from running. Raylan yanks me back again. When I try to shove him once more, he grabs me by the face and kisses me.
she manages to get under my skin in a way I don’t quite understand.
On paper he’s a good match for Riona. But she doesn’t need somebody stiff and proper like that. She needs somebody who can make her laugh. Who can help her relax a little. Not someone who’s going to amp her up even more.
I keep a list of the best places. Maybe so I can show them to somebody else someday. Maybe just so I don’t forget them.
the fact that he followed her into the bathroom and put his hands on her . . . it makes me want to murder him. Just snuff him out of this world.
I thought Nero would be the last person in the world to fall in love, but I guess that’s me instead.
Seeing Nero transformed into an almost reasonable human makes me believe that miracles can happen after all.
Maybe that’s what it takes: an unexpected pairing. Cal fell in love with the daughter of our worst enemy. Nessa is married to her own goddamned kidnapper. Nero got his heart stolen by a girl he barely noticed in high school. And Dante is back together with the woman who ripped out his heart. In that case, maybe Nick ...
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There’s something about Raylan that doesn’t let you keep him at arm’s length. He’s too perceptive and too goddamned personal. Too honest and too . . . himself. There’s no layer of professional distance between him and me. There never has been.
That’s a classic cross-examination tactic--ask a question bluntly and abruptly to try to shock the defendant into answering honestly.
“What’s different about her?” “It’s got nothing to do with being different,”
Nero reminds me of the Cheshire Cat—he’ll respond to questions, but he doesn’t give a damn if you understand his answers.
“Camille and I are the same,” he says simply. “Not in circumstances or experiences. Not on the outside. But in the things that matter, we’re aligned. What we care about. What we want. What we feel.”
”There’s the parts that are the same and the parts that fill up the holes in each other. You don’t know what’s missing inside of you until you find it in someone else.”
I like listening to Raylan’s description. His voice is so warm and animated, anything he says comes alive.
Raylan is masculine in a different way—by not giving a damn about his clothes or his car or his social status.
As usual, when I notice something appealing about him, I feel an equal compulsion to pull away.
it’s the universal language. Everyone likes food that tastes good. You can bond with anybody over a good meal.”
We look out over the city lights—the other high rises, each with their individual boxes of light representing offices and apartments, each containing some other person living their life. The streams of cars on the roads below are the same—each one carrying a person to their own individual destination. To them, what they’re doing is the most important thing in the world. To us, it’s just another light bobbing down the road, the same as all the others. Usually that thought would make me feel isolated and insignificant. But tonight, I think most of those people are probably going home to
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He’s so cold, but she blooms with him.”
You get older, and when you get together, instead of talking about the people you know and the things you used to do, you can just talk about life, about books and movies and the world, and you’ve grown up and they’ve grown up and all the little petty shit you used to fight about as kids doesn’t matter anymore.”
I lie there restless and confused, wondering why I felt so relaxed on the balcony but so troubled now.
I don’t know how the fuck to protect her. When you’re constantly in a defensive position, you’re at a disadvantage. It’s too easy for your opponent to choose the time and place of his attack. You can’t be prepared for everything at all times. So it’s up to me to shift the battleground.
“Any idea’s better than no idea.”
She looks pretty fucking hot, actually. I try to keep my thoughts professional, but I’d have to be blind not to notice.
“I’ve been places,” Riona says stiffly. “New York. Paris. London. I’ve traveled.” “Not down to the heartland, though.” “No. I never had a reason to.” I grin. “You’re gonna love it.”
that fire scared me. More than the near drowning. It felt like an escalation—like a mark of this guy’s desperation to get at me, no matter how safe and protected I might think I’ve made myself.
