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“He doesn’t sound evil,” Dad says quietly. “Just broken.”
“When we care about someone, they deserve the benefit of the doubt. We have to consider not only what they did, but also why they did it. Intent matters,”
“I want to deserve you,” he says when he pulls away. “You already do.” “I want all of you. I want to give you everything I have.” His lips linger on mine one more time. “There are no strings attached to what I’m offering,” he tells me. “I just want you. I just want to love you.”
“I love you, too,” he says against my cheek. “I have been aching to say it for so long.”
He’s so fucking cute I want to lick his face.
The world tells girls we should want romantic, flashy grand gestures, and those can be great. But if I had given it deeper thought, I know I’d have dreamed up something just like this—an offer given with honesty and communication and mutual respect—over anything showy.
The current COO will be CEO in the interim—a woman who is apparently a badass with silver hair and balls of steel (a Capricorn, of course)—with
“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”
I want that same closeness with my family, but we’re all broken in similar but opposing ways, and I have to be realistic about what that means for forming bonds of trust and vulnerability.
“Even if it’s awful, it’s going to be okay,” she says. “You know how I know that?” I turn in her arms, leaning back against the counter and loosely wrapping my arms around her. “How?” “Because even if it goes off the rails, even if everyone ends up shouting and crying and accusing, they’ll still leave at the end of the night, and we’ll still have our house and our life and this love that nobody can touch.”
“We get to decide how much of our hearts we want to give them.”
