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She liked admiring him without being afraid of getting caught. She liked it when she spotted him at the open market unexpectedly, breaking into a run and surprise-attacking him from the back, getting a laugh in response instead of a gun pulled on her.
“Well,” he said, “I’m always happy to make you happy.”
and loving him was still so easy, despite being removed from everything they once knew.
All it took was her heart on her sleeve and his pulled open too, and she was constantly tickled pink by her favorite person.
he still liked rolling onto her side of the bed when she was ignoring him for a book and receiving the honor of being smacked away with her pillow.
“It’s Juliette Montagova.” She lifted her hand and waved her fingers, flashing her gold wedding ring while she continued onward and exited the living room. “I’m a married woman. Roma, come help me get the knives, would you?” In that moment, as Roma pushed off the wall and followed her obediently, he fell in love all over again.
“What were you shushing me for?” Roma whispered after a few seconds. “You were the one talking.” “I like telling you to shut up,” Juliette replied. “Do you?” “Absolutely.” Entirely straight-faced, she added, “It gets me all hot and bothered.”
“Juliette,” Roma interrupted, scandalized.
“My knees have been creaking since I was fifteen.” “It’s all that lying you did. Aged you prematurely.”
They aired each other’s past crimes like it was the weekly radio programming.
Smaller concerns, on the other hand, were a battle between how well Roma could sweet-talk her and how stubborn Juliette decided to be in opposition. More often than not, she won.
“You won’t ever lose me,” he repeated, sounding so serious even with the jest in their actions. “And I love you, to have and to hold as my unlawfully wedded wife, until the universe itself goes poof.”
“I have an internal compass that centers on you instead of true north.”
It was impossible to lack confidence once one mastered a knife flip.
“Roma?” she called. “Dearest husband of mine, I seek thy aid.” He appeared in the bedroom doorway, wearing an apron. “I am thine to command.”
The only person in the world who might be protected forever from scars was Rosalind—immortal, unaging Rosalind—but even she was carrying terrible ones from the past.
the more we play hero, the larger the targets grow on our backs.”
love was never wholly the grand battles and explosive deeds. Love, she thought, was that kernel of warmth nestled deeper in her chest, glowing with a sense of comfort whenever Roma’s eyes were on her—the same comfort she’d first found when they were fifteen, everlasting.
“You are stuck with me and utter contentment for all of time and beyond.”
“Stop pleasing me so much!” Juliette yelled after him. “I can’t help it, you’re the love of my life!” Roma shouted back.
“It is quite hard to hold steady all the time with holes in your heart,” he agreed quietly. “You will always have the extra pulp of my heart to borrow from, though. It might not fill that space just right, but at least it gives you a place to land on days your balance is weak.”
Without warning, Marshall dropped to his knees, trembling with the drama. “I’m aging!” The old ladies turned around with some concern.
Think happy thoughts. Food carts. Snow-capped mountains. My dazzling smile.”
“Platform number one,” Benedikt reminded. “You’re my only number one,” Marshall replied, somewhat nonsensically.
the whole-body hug that Marshall gave him at the doorway of their smaller one-bedroom in Moscow, laughing when Benedikt said he absolutely had to go and laughing harder when Benedikt didn’t actually attempt to extricate himself.
Marshall and Juliette certainly hated missing their gossiping sessions—so
A harmless bonk on the head may as well be a full-mouth kiss in Benedikt’s mind.
“I would reroute the train with my bare hands before I left you behind,” he said matter-of-factly.
Marshall unspeaking was a very scary Marshall.
“Twenty-four,” he answered for the both of them. “Practically ancient.”
