More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
I was starting to think that this tearstained monster—this woman of rages, of sobs, of hysterical laughter—was the real me, and that the woman I’d been for my first twenty-nine years was the fake, the imitation.
because no matter where I went or how mad I was, I would not go without nail polish.
I wanted to tell him to come inside, but that was silly, because Detective Challis was a police officer, and a man, and because he was both of those things there was nothing he should be afraid of.
I’d finally found something I wanted, and life was too short not to try and have it.
