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Sounded nice, but Eve couldn’t remember the last time she concerned herself with being happy. She just wanted to be…not sad.
“Well, I was gonna do it for free until you and your pride jumped in.”
“Well, he sounds MAGA, so it’s probably best if you keep your distance anyway.”
“People in pain aren’t always the best communicators.”
“But I don’t think I’m someone you wanna be friends with,” Eve said. Jamie nodded as he looked down at the console between them. “Maybe I am somebody you wanna be friends with.”
The appliances were white, matching nothing else in the room, and NeNe Leakes’s voice echoed in Eve’s head, melodramatically bemoaning the very existence of a white refrigerator, honey.
Eve wondered if Jill had grandchildren somewhere not calling or visiting her enough.
She wore a facade like armor, but Jamie was so willing to be vulnerable anyway. She’d known this man for all of two weeks, but she trusted him. On the lowest of keys, she wanted him to trust her. It was such a peculiar and unwelcome feeling, but she didn’t know how to fight it. And maybe she wasn’t supposed to.
Kouri pou lapli, tonbe nan larivyè, as her father would say. Running from the rain, falling in the river. It didn’t change the fact that Jamie gave her butterflies. Maybe fireflies. He opened her up without even trying.
“You owe me the respect I’d give to you. God knows you’ve had a wall up from day one, but I still communicate.” “You can’t force me to be who you want me to be. I’ve never been unclear about who I am.”
“I can’t decide whether to want nothing from you, or absolutely everything.”
“I trust you,” he whispered. “I just don’t wanna fall in love with someone who’s taken.”
“Please don’t fall in love with me.” She turned to him, her dark eyes both searching and pleading.
“You’re not just a fantasy,” she whispered.
“You deserve everything you want, Eve. And I hate that the world hasn’t given it to you yet.”
Forgiveness really is for the forgiver.
Going back to your metaphor—I have to ask, how do you expect to save someone else from drowning when you’re underwater yourself?”
Leaving home, in a sense, involves a kind of second birth in which we give birth to ourselves.
“When I saw you, I realized exactly why I woke up this morning with the sudden urge to hop on a flight to someplace I’d never been. And I thought, ‘I’d get on a flight every day for that smile.’ ”
