“I didn’t know what to say to that. I just stared at him. He was right, of course he was right, but… “I can’t do my job like this.”
“No,” he said, “you can’t.”
Then suddenly I felt the first tear slide down my face.
“No crying,” he said.
Another tear joined the first. I fought not to wipe at them.
His hand dropped to his side and he took a deep breath. “That’s not fair. Don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to, but you’re right, I think. I’m pregnant, damn it, not crippled.”
“He doesn’t pretend,” the punk pixie said. He nodded toward Doyle. “Nice rings. You got anything else pierced?”
“Yes,” Doyle said.
The boy smiled, making the rings in the edge of his nose and his bottom lip curl cheerfully with it. “Me too,” he said.”
“I hoped what little dinner I'd eaten wasn't something my new baby-rich body didn't like. I didn't want to throw up all over the bad guys, or then again maybe I did. It would certainly be distracting.”
“He held Saraid the rest of the way home, and in a way she held him right back, because sometimes and especially for a man, being able to be someone’s big strong shoulder to cry on helps you not need to cry so very much yourself.”
“They had kilts on instead of pants, but you just didn’t see six feet-plus of immortal warrior panicking about anything often, but panicking in a kitchen with pots in their hands and the oven open while they peered inside in a puzzled manner was a very special and endearing type of panic.”
“Happy is one of the many things I'm likely to be over the course of a day and certainly over the course of a lifetime. But I think if you have the expectation that you're going to be happy throughout your life--more to the point, if you have a need to be comfortable all the time--well, among other things, you have the makings of a classic drug addict or alcoholic.”
“Man cannot be worked worse than a horse is worked, and be housed and fed as a pig is housed and fed, and at the same time have clean and wholesome ideals and aspirations.”
“But who ever heeds the voice of reason when love whispers, softly persuasive, in the other ear?”
“What happened to the Ford?” “God, Gloria made me sell it. Supposedly, I had too much independence—that’s the new theory, that I ran off because of independence. Also, she wants me to see a shrink. She’s convinced that anyone who wouldn’t want to live with her has to be crazy.”
“Are you stitching yourself up?” Heather’s sounded awed.
Gabriel winced. “Yep.”
“That’s scary,” Heather said. “And…kinda hot.”
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