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But I wanted her. I was supposed to know this woman—I felt it with every fiber of my being.
That was the thing about Mom—I could criticize her, but no one else was allowed to.
“Without the potential for disaster, would we ever really know what we have?”
“There’s a warning, a sound your heart makes the first time it realizes it’s no longer safe with the person you trusted.”
“Perhaps the kindest thing I could do for the characters would be to leave their stories unfinished. Leave them with their possibilities, their
potential, even if they only exist in my own mind.”
“I am completely, wholeheartedly, madly in love with you, Georgia Constance Stanton.”
Love—the good, the real, the life-changing—is rare. You have to fight for it, Noah. I know you’ve never had to before, that women have always come easily to you, but it’s because you never cared enough to try to keep someone around before.”
Tragedy has a way of breaking gentle things and soldering the shattered pieces together in ways we can’t control. Some, it remakes into stronger, more resilient creatures. In others, the pieces fuse before they heal, leaving only razor-sharp edges.
