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But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more. HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN, “THE LITTLE MERMAID”
You can’t ever count on a man, but you can always count on the poison that will kill him…or whatever that saying is.
“That’s what my best friend back home calls my little concoctions—potions, like I’m some witch here to steal your soul.”
offer a new trinket for her to add to her collection of gizmos and gadgets, and she melts.
“You’re a man, honey. I’m afraid there’s nothing special about any of you.”
“Sounds like you haven’t met the right man.” She smiles back, and her eyes dance with mirth. “Sounds like something the wrong man would say.”
That’s the thing about grief, I guess. It steals the air from your lungs just as you’ve finally figured out how to breathe.
“Watch your mouth,” he says slowly, his New York accent coming through strong, dropping the r and elongating the vowels. “You won’t disrespect yourself to me.”
Because fuck her if she thinks I’ll allow her to disappear with another man on her arm when she came here with me.
Because no matter how badly I might want him… Enzo isn’t mine to have. And I’m not worth the fallout there would be if we gave in.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” I repeat. “Because when I do, I’m going to take my time, cherishing every single inch of you, drinking up your cries and drowning in your moans. Tell me you understand.”
“In a different life…” I pause, emotion suddenly clogging my throat. “I’d love you out loud.”
Kiss the girl.
Betrayal is a disease.
“Showtime, my dear, sweet Cousin. Make sure to sell it, and remember… it’s all in the body language, honey.”
