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And finally, it was logic that said not to drop everything and rush home to be with dad when he first got sick, to stay in Arizona and take care of my affairs. So … fuck logic.
The past isn't something you run from; it's something you walk slowly past, taking pictures, making memories. You learn from the bad times and treasure the good ones, but you leave that view firmly entrenched in the rearview mirror.
“Well, shit, I'm an Englishman. All I want is to smell honeysuckle and roses through my cottage window and have myself a nice cup of tea.”
“Preferably after playing a local cricket game with my mates.”
I miss Chloe; I'm afraid of my parents; I have a fiancée; I'm in love with Lilith; I might be in love with Ransom. I'm a fucking mess.
People have been living in this spot for thousands of years and now they're serving expensive coffee in paper cups to tourists from a building older than the country that Lily grew up in? Good God.
Pop in for a spot of tea and some fucking crumpets? Sit in the conservatory with dear ol' mummy and listen to her talk gossip about all the other rich idiots she hangs around with? Or maybe watch my father's face tighten when he looks at me, his disappointment of a son?
“You'll get through this. It might be like walking through fire; it might fucking burn. But once you get to the other side, the ashes of your past will fall away and you'll be cleansed, ready to start fresh.”
Still, no wonder how good things are right now, grief is a real bitch, a ghost that haunts even after an exorcism.
My thighs tremble as I struggle to hold myself up and absorb the sanctity of his touch, each brush of his tongue a prayer, each press of his lips a curse.
“Just a man in love,” he says, making my heart stutter, stop, start up again. “I love you, Miss Lilith Tempest Goode.”
Slowly, slowly, slowly our little group is healing together, one scar, one wound, one bloody broken heart at a time.
Romance really is in the little things. It's the way he smiles at me, the way he says he'll watch movies that I know he's going to hate, the way he takes my purse from me and slings it over his own shoulder—even
She knew how she felt about him; nothing could change that. But the world was cruel, and the world was awful, and all she wanted was to make things easier for him, better. No, it didn't matter what anyone else thought about them, not really, but if she could ease his torment just a little, why not play along?
There wasn't a single opportunity in the whirlwind of eating, changing, changing again, changing yet again (pretty sure I tried on ten different outfits this morning), and getting on the plane for me to have a moment alone with Cope.
If he can tell me I'm pretty with such undeniable verity, then I owe him the same courtesy.
Most importantly, she has this look to her that says she's never met tragedy face to face, never danced with grief, or kissed melancholy's cold lips. That's the biggest difference between us, the real reason we're true opposites.
“Because it'll scare them shitless, that's why. A beautiful goddess like you? Your power is overwhelming. I want them to see how little chance they have of swaying me from my course.”
Lucky me for being born a girl; I don't have a refractory period.
Or since my history isn't quite up to snuff—a sixteenth or seventeenth century dinner party. Oh, screw facts. This is just weird.
But I'm also kind of a romantic. I read romance novels, remember?
Yep, I have a literary reference for pretty much everything. The thing is … my ideal book girlfriend, she's standing right here in front of me.
“I am in love with you, Lily,” I say finally, and I wonder why the fuck I didn't just say it sooner.
“To take a quick walk. If I'm not back in an hour, I'm probably piloting some mecha robot somewhere and fighting crime. Call me.” “So you do watch anime!” Muse calls out
There are a million ways to make a way in the world, and I've got mine right here. My art. My heart. My boys. All five of them.
“No, our love is like a fairytale. It has a beginning, a middle, and a happily ever after, but it doesn't have an end. You can always add new chapters.”
My happy ending is rending my heart; I don't want it to end. Take me back, back, back to the beginning again. Don't fret; turn the page. Because my smile and your heart, they'll be dancing there together until the happy end, so long that it becomes our beautiful beginning all over again.
