More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“Clowns should be murdered,” I add. “Wanna know who invented clowns? A psycho, that’s who.”
“We all have darkness. People you see on the street, people you work with, people you love, people you hate. If there’s no darkness, then there’s no room for light. And when that darkness hits you, and it will, all that matters is that you keep going, one step at a time until you’re up and back on your journey.”
Do you know how long a snail can sleep?” I arch a brow. “Three years. Do you know what happens to female ferrets if they don’t mate?” “They get angry?” “They die. Something about their hormones going crazy. Anyway. I like him.”
Fate is a tenacious bitch. And sometimes when she doesn’t get what she wants, she tries again and again.
She laughs. “Boo, you’re so jealous! Okay, it’s Jensen Ackles.” “Who the fuck is that?” She gasps. “You’ve never watched Supernatural? Oh my God, there’s fifteen seasons.” I shake my head. “Would you dump me for him?” She taps her chin. “First, you need to watch the show. I’ll sit with you. His character, Dean Winchester, fights demons and ghosts and vampires. He’s cool and loyal—and sexy, of course.” I grunt. “He’s a bad boy, sort of reckless, but he’ll do anything for his brother, including going to hell for him. His best friend is an angel, he knows his way around a knife, and he drives a
...more
“He was already sick before he fell,” I say. “Did you check him out for that?” The doctor smiles broadly. “Ah, yes, he has a phobia of needles and was experiencing agitation after getting a tattoo.” Jasper snorts. “Pining. The man was pining.”
“I found some random tattoo parlor. I didn’t have a picture of your face—remember your question was if I’d get your face?” I nod. “I have one of us on my phone, but the artist said it would take too long to do the detail anyway. He offered to sketch something, and I talked about you in a masquerade mask and a wedding dress, and he got confused.” “Too much bourbon.” He grimaces. “Trust me; I was sober when he started inking. I passed out twice, and Jasper slapped me awake.” “Jesus.”
The pain relievers hit my system, but by the time the next contraction arrives, it’s as if they gave me absolutely nothing. I scream out and shake my head on the pillow. “That’s it. I’m done. I’m not doing this. Cece, pack up. Jasper, give me a hand. Let’s go take a baby from the nursery and call it a day.” There’s a tense silence, and I rise up and yell, “Jeez. I was kidding!”
You are my soul, he said. The light that guides me home. So why does it matter if it was sooner than we might have anticipated?
