The Edge of Heaven (Love Beyond Measure #1)

by E.M. Lindsey

“You used to email me every week and tell me the French were assholes.” “They are,” he said, and took a long drink, swiping the back of his thumb over his lips. “But they’ve grown on me.” “Or maybe you just embraced being an asshole to fit in better.”

the very idea that we’re all made from the dust of stars—that billions of stars who lost their lives, created everything else tangible in the universe and it got me.”

“Hydrogen,” Will said as he turned his phone off. “It’s one of the most common elements in the entire universe. It’s what starts the life of a star, it’s what sustains them for billions of years. It’s why I hate it when people insult the idea of common.” Julian lifted a brow at him. “I don’t understand.” Will met his gaze, fire in his eyes. “Because common or not, it’s everything. It’s the sole and entire reason why we exist, and that is precious.”

“You’re star dust. Somewhere, probably millions of lightyears away—and millions of years in the past, there was a supernova. And the dust from that star—and from others—eventually helped create the spark that is your life. Right now. Carl Sagan used to call it star stuff, and I always used to find it so fucking romantic.”

“It means that the terrible, beautiful, inevitable death of a star is responsible for the miraculous, beautiful inevitable birth of you.” He moved in close, and Julian could feel his next words pressed against his own lips. “That is how important you are. A star accepted its death to make sure you were standing here. With me. Right now.”

“This is real to me. It’s not nothing. This isn’t a transaction, okay? I have been attracted to you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and it’s…it just keeps getting worse. I can’t escape it. I want to burn this place to the ground because I think it might make you smile.”

“I’ll teach them all to you. Every word you ever want to know. The planets, the stars, the galaxies. Every small facet of your life that’s important to you—it’ll be yours in whatever language you want.”

“I don’t think I can call myself an atheist anymore,” Julian murmured against his warmed skin. Archer lifted a brow and tried to turn his head enough to see him. “Why’s that?” He saw the curve of Julian’s smile in his periphery. “Because I’m pretty sure I just saw God.”

Julian had been seconds away from those three, devastating little words that ruined kingdoms, and all for what?

Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love. -W. Shakespeare

he loved Julian already. And maybe it wasn’t a big, grand love, but it was the spark of something. It was the spark of life in the early universe, a millionth of a second after the big bang. It was matter and antimatter battling each other for space and dominance and he knew that love—that matter—would win out. Eventually. If he let it.

“He’s not coming back.” “If he did, would you try again?” “I would figure out the way to change the orbit of the fucking Earth around the sun if it meant I could have another chance—knowing it would probably end all life on Earth.”

you will always be the wish I make on any falling star,”