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My brain—the part that operated purely on hearts, stars, and rainbows—kept calling it fate, kismet, destiny.
There’s not one aspect of my life, one single inch of my soul, that has been left untouched by my knowing her, loving her, losing her.
“Maybe they were cool with rushing because they didn’t have anything in front of them that was worth slowing down for, but I’d stop the world for you. I’d freeze time if it meant I would never run out of opportunities to look at you.”
“Because from the second I found out Eric was gone, all I wanted to do was hold you long enough to absorb your grief. To take every ounce of the pain you’ve been holding and carry it for you. When I boarded that plane, I knew I had no right to want any of those things, to want anything from you, but I want this, princess. I want to be here for you. Will you let me?”
Grief is funny like that. It just comes out of nowhere, demanding your time and attention, not caring where you are or what you’re doing.”
The list of things I wouldn’t give her, wouldn’t do for her is nonexistent. She can ask me for anything, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I won’t be able to rest until she has it.
“The first time I kissed you, everything before you ceased to exist. Your taste, your touch, your smell, eradicated it all. You erased me, turned me into a clean slate, a blank page that only you could fill in.
guess that’s the thing about being shattered more than once in a lifetime. You learn how to be comfortable in devastation, to thrive in it, to look forward to it.
