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“I want my wife to intimidate me. I want to know that her enemies will all fall before her. That’s the kind of woman I want by my side. She had better be intimidating.”
“Chloe.” His voice was hoarse. “You must know—I may not be serious about anything, but about you? I am.”
“The place you are,” Mr. Fong said, “is not permanent. Stop waiting. Work with what you have and who you are to make what you want to be. I am waiting to see what you will discover.”
“The truth is,” he told her, “I’m not like you. I don’t make lists. I don’t have rational explanations for everything. If you asked me why I wanted you, I wouldn’t be able to give a carefully thought-out account. I could only say that you make me feel like the home I want to live in.”
She imagined her fears of frailty and abandonment as a heavy, spiked ball deep inside her. But she’d dealt with fears before. She thanked them for keeping her safe, acknowledged them for the work they had done in bringing her to this moment. And then she imagined taking that spiked ball out of her, holding it out as if it were a dandelion puff…and blowing all that fear away, to scatter in the wind.
