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332 pages, Paperback
First published March 31, 2020
We poured ourselves in until each overflowed with the other, until neither could be distinguished. Together, our hearts stopped. Together, they kicked back to life.
“I thought about the way he’d looked at me in that moment when we were daydreaming of a future — our future. That look was a mirror of my heart, reflecting love back at me like a blinding streak of sunshine.”
Her eyes were bottomless, fathomless. “I wish things were different.”
“So do I.”
“And I wish I could stop thinking about you, but I can’t.”
With a hard swallow, I said something I shouldn’t, “I shouldn’t want to see you, but I do.”
Hope flickered across her face. “I shouldn’t keep coming here, but I can’t seem to help myself, and I doubt I’ll stop. I don’t hate you, Maisie. But I hate this. It’s not often I want something I can’t have.”
“Because you don’t often want?”
“Because what I want, I get.”
“And you can’t have me,” she said, finishing the thought.
“And I can’t have you,” I echoed.
‘All I knew was that no one had ever protected her, and she didn’t know her worth.
And I was exactly the person to show her.
It was a compulsion, a deep and instinctive impulse to keep her safe. To make her happy. To show her a better life than the one she’d been living in the long shadow of her mother. I understood her, and I believed she understood me.’
“But mostly because when I’m with you, the world seems full of possibility when I’ve lived without hope for so long. I trust you because I want to trust you, and you’ve done nothing but prove you’re worthy.”
I watched her for a protracted moment, one spent searching for words. “I have never met anyone like you, not in my whole life. And that you’re sitting here, that you’re with me, is the most terrifying and satisfying thing that’s ever happened to me.”
‘It was strange, how memory worked, how it could never quite recall the glory of the real thing. How a face I thought I knew better than my own could surprise me so desperately in its beauty. And not the beauty of her form, of her small chin or soft eyes, of her shining hair or the gentle curve of her lips. But in the expression of her love and devotion, so true and real that in a heartbeat, I knew. I knew every thought and feeling of her heart with nothing more than a breath and a glimpse into her eyes.’
“Why do you trust me?”
“I don’t know. Because we’re allies, that’s part of it. Because I can’t stand by and watch her decimate your family over some tired, pointless grudge she’s held on to rather than moved on from. But mostly because when I’m with you, the world seems full of possibility when I’ve lived without hope for so long. I trust you because I want to trust you, and you’ve done nothing but prove you’re worthy.”