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My beautiful dark prince stares at me for a moment, my words seeming to have rattled him.
‘If two people love each other, there can be no happy end to it,’ ” he softly replies. Instantly recognizing the words, I tear my eyes from his. “Don’t quote Hemingway to me,” I snap. Did he think I wouldn’t recognize it and know what he was trying to do?
“It’s ironic, really: the man who hates the world is most loved by it,” she whispers, her eyes glossy and full of tears. Tears for me, so many tears for me.
