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“We’re still kerosene.” Flammable. Combustible. I smile. “Sounds disastrously right.”
“What’s wrong?” “Your number three.” His shoulder muscles pull taut. “You wrote: do not touch me under any circumstance.” I sit pin straight. “It’s called a preference list. I prefer that Tony doesn’t touch me.” I cringe picturing his hands even hovering near my body. “He’s your bodyguard, honey.”
Rose gives me a long once-over. “You’re still alive, so I take it Richard didn’t do a good job annihilating you. Did he tell you that you’re moving too fast?”
“I don’t need a career to be a smart woman.” I go on. “I don’t need a job to be talented. I am both smart and possess talent, and the love that I give is just as important as the fashion empire my mom built. I am enough just as I am.”
“No boy’s allowed!” my mom screams from the treehouse window. “Go away, Loren!” Uncle Loren glares up at her from the foot of the tree. “Fine, Cruella, I was just asking if you needed more blankets. Freeze your titanium pussy off for all I care!” “Go fuck a cactus!” My mom gets the last word in before returning to the mound of blankets.
“All this time, I thought love is a compromise of equals. 50-50. But it’s not…is it?” She leans back and gives me another pointed look. “With the right person, they’ll ensure you’re always whole.”
“Love is two wholes. We are two-hundred percent—an illogical number, maddening, and I will forever embrace every illogical, maddening second with you.”
“You’re a family of warriors—I’m a warrior too. We just have different weapons. You use words. I use a gun. And ever since I was a young kid, I wanted to be that Spartan hero for someone. I belong here. Not anywhere else.”
