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Maybe the right words weren’t words. He cradled her head in his hands and kissed her.
“I’m in love with you, Scarlett Wright. I’ve done everything I can to fight it, to take it slower, to give you what time and space you need. But this war isn’t going to give us that time, and after last night, I’m not hiding it anymore. I’m in love with you.”
“I used to think their love was built into it. That’s why she always had it repaired, never rebuilt.”
I see the way he looks at her, like she’s the reason the seasons change and the sun rises until they’re a hundred and one years old.”
“Georgia, can’t you see it? It’s in every line of this place. This isn’t a mausoleum, it’s a promise, a shrine to that love.”
He’d bought her a typewriter.
“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.”
Life is too short to miss the lightning strike and too long to live it alone. This is where my story ends. I’ll be watching over you to see where yours leads.
