She waited, thinking you were different from those who used and betrayed her. She believed you would find her, come charging to her rescue. That belief was as misplaced as the monsters we faced were deadly. The day came she finally lost her faith in you, and I was there as I’ve always been there when she needed me.
I contemplate the notion that maybe regrets are a process of accumulation of time, as unavoidable as a closet full of clothes and more bags of them in the attic. Is accumulated baggage what makes people get old? If so, they need to clean out their fecking attics, send the stuff to consignment shops and remember how to walk around naked like kids, little bellies sticking out, always ready for a good laugh.
A wise woman indiscriminately picked up all the tools others left lying around.
People had to want to stay, choose to be with you, or it meant nothing. There were physical cages and there were emotional ones. Holding onto someone too tightly made it hard for them to breathe, and eventually, inevitably, they’d do one of two things: suffocate or run, leaving you feeling like hell either way.
By the time you work your way down the hierarchy to a brunette, you got yourself a woman who knows who she is, likes it enough that she ain’t gonna change, and is probably gonna try to change you, if push comes to shove. Pushy, that’s what brunettes are. Even the dainty, fragile-looking ones.
My point is you can’t believe only in Voldemort. You have to believe in Dumbledore, too.
It’s not the hand you’re dealt that matters. It’s how you play the cards.
And I will get to climb on that big beautiful bike of yours and wrap my arms around you and lean into all that gorgeous hair and smell you, and hear you laugh and see your eyes flash fire. Or I may as well just kick it right now because you, Dani Mega O’Malley, make me feel alive like nothing else does.
He said love is the willingness to put the happiness and evolution of the person you love before your own. Even if it means giving them up.
It occured to me that adaptability was more than survivability; it was the foundation of love. We were all changing, every day, and those relationships that endured were the ones that rode the waves together, grew and allowed each other to evolve. Encouraged it, even when it was frightening. Adaptability in relationships was the polar opposite of a cage. It was necessary commitment wed to necessary freedom.
Each morning we wake up, we get to choose between hope and fear and apply one of those emotions to everything we do.
Do I love him? Yes. Is he perfect? No. Am I? No. Will I leave him? No. Okay, that’s resolved. Time for a nap.
I moved to the counter. A note was propped on the register. Welcome home, Ms. Lane. “Arrogant, overconfident jackass.
With the Book hitching rides, hiding on people, guess we’re all going to be dressing like skanks for a while, huh? Skintight or skin. Dude, everybody’s everything’s gonna be hanging out, and some o’ those fat chicks at the abbey are gonna gross my eyeballs right outta my head. Muffin tops and camel toes, gah!
Do you, Gavrael Roderick – ” “I do.” Jillian nudged him. He arched a brow and frowned. “Well, I do. Must we go through all this? I do. I swear a man has never ‘I do’d’ more fervently than I. I just want to be married to you, lass.
Tonight, the sea was a shiver of dark glass, harboring secrets untold in her depths while on her tranquil surface stars glittered like diamonds.
You don’t get to make my decisions for me. It’s my life and only I know what I need and what I’m willing to go through. I don’t want to live without you. I felt that once. I never want to feel it again.” I’d been lost, purposeless, denied Heaven. It was as if his frequency and my frequency made such an exquisite song together that without it I wasn’t alive.
I have to talk to him,” I said flatly. “I forbid it.” Every cell in my being bristled. I practically shouted, “You what?” “For. Bid. It.” “You did not just say that to me.
Furthermore, if I lost my soul, I’d adapt. I always do. Adaptation is my specialty. I practically invented the word.
Bloody hell, Ms. Lane, how many “buts” are you going to throw at me besides the only one I want? He rakes a hungry gaze over my ass and I shiver.