“Beth, eat your greens. They’re good for you. Come on, eat your peas.”
“I don’t want to,” she whined, and we turned to watch her push her plate back. “They’re little fuckers.”
“Are you Hannah’s boyfriend?”
… Marco’s reply was, “Nope. She won’t let me be.”
Beth had immediately turned her cute look of consternation on me. “That’s really rude, Hannah.”
“You’re stalking me?”
“I’d prefer to call it actively pursuing you.”
“I’m your best friend … You’ve just forgotten. My fault, I know. I can help you remember.”
“When we were kids, I was in love with you … That never went away, Hannah.” He rested his forehead against mine. “And now that I know you again, I’m even more in love with you.”
“Cole: "One day you'll meet someone you can stand to commit to, and I'll meet someone who isn't batshit crazy."
Hannah: "Oh, you dreamer you.”
“When I’m with you it feels like everything’s going to be okay. I can’t explain it.”
“I don’t care if you’ve changed. I don’t care who you are now. I don’t need or want your explanations because what you did, you didn’t do it to me, you did it to that girl you left behind. And I’m not her anymore. You made certain of that. She might have needed answers and an apology, but me…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s no problem.” Marco shrugged. “You’re family.”
Her eyes bugged out at me and she whispered comically, “I’m family.”
I patted her shoulder. “They’re not the Mafia, Liv. Calm down.”
“I’m in love with you. There is no one else for me and I don’t know how I know, but I do know that there never will be.”
“I know you still care.” His words whispered across my lips, his mouth almost touching mine. I shivered, my breath stuttering. “And, baby,” he continued, “I don’t think I can pretend any longer that I don’t think about being inside you nearly every hour of every day.”
His words were almost the equivalent of his mouth between my legs.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“Yes, I fucking do,” he said abruptly. “Whatever this is” – he gestured between us – “it’s important.”
“I’m not going to hide that I want to get to know who you are now. I’m also not going to hide the fact that I think you’re still the classiest, most fucking beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, or the fact that I remember the taste of you and it still makes me hard.”
“Friends, my ass,” Joss grunted … “The sexual tension between you two is off the charts.” Her grin turned smug. “Reminds me of me and Mr Carmichael.”
“No details.” Ellie held up a hand, her eyes pleading.
“I wasn’t going to,” Joss assured her, but we knew where her mind had wandered by the still smug smile curing her mouth and the heat in her eyes.”
“Marriage is about leverage?"
"Yes." Every single married person at the table answered.”
“I can tell you that it's okay to feel whatever it is you're feeling right now. It's okay to miss him and it's okay to hurt and it's okay to feel lost-just as long as you come to me, or your friends, or your family, when all those feelings try to overwhelm you. Because in amongst all those feelings, some of you are going to be angry, and some of you will need someone to blame. It's okay to be angry. I can't tell you if it's right or wrong to feel blame, but what I can say is don't be angry for too long and don't hold on to the blame forever. That kind of anger can take away a piece of you, a piece of you that you might not get back.”
“I won't lie to you. This changes things. It may even change you. I know it will change me."
"I guess it's a reminder of the uncertainty in life and the foolishness of merely existing when the world is pleading with you to live. If you take anything from this, please take that. We take life for granted. We have to stop that. We have to start living.”
“I would like to remind you, though, that the only things in your life that are irreplaceable are sitting in this room with you.”
“Why it is that life can change so quickly?"
"How it's possible for a heart to stop beating so suddenly, instantly breaking all the hearts that were ever connected to it? But the truth is there is no sense in what happened to Jarrod. None that I can see. I wish I had a better answer, but I don't.”
“I was done with him giving me space. I wanted a new kind of comfort from him. Specifically in the form of orgasms.”
“I’d felt lost for a long time after he left. It had taken a while to find my strength and independence again. It had meant hardening my heart and creating little locked doors in my soul so that only the people I trusted implicitly could ever make it inside to touch it.”
“I would rather have an elephant with a flatulence problem sit on my face.”
“I don't think God's a woman, if that is what you're asking.”
“The author urges taking the pulse of the church outside our own neighborhood. More church attending Presbyterians in Ghana than Scotland, and while Western pastors beg to fill seats, some African pastors are asking people only to attend every second or third week to give room for others in packed churches.”
“They felt certain that this baby was going to die. They felt it was suffering terribly. And they believed that my clever milk tubes contraption was hurting the child and prolonging its suffering. So they euthanized the child. The father himself put the baby to death, by forcing alcohol down its throat.”
“None of us can ever retrieve that innocence before all theory when art knew no need to justify itself, when one did not ask of a work of art what it said because one knew what it did. From now to the end of consciousness, we are stuck with the task of defending art.”
“We can never know in the beginning, in giving ourselves to a person, to a work, to a marriage or to a cause, exactly what kind of love we are involved with. When we demand a certain specific kind of reciprocation before the revelation has flowered completely we find ourselves disappointed and bereaved and in that grief may miss the particular form of love that is actually possible but that did not meet our initial and too specific expectations. Feeling bereft we take our identity as one who is disappointed in love, our almost proud disappointment preventing us from seeing the lack of reciprocation from the person or the situation as simply a difficult invitation into a deeper and as yet unrecognizable form of affection.”
“As I was saying before,” he says, his eyes glued to me as I begin to writhe on the sheets beneath me, “I will allow it.”
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