“Do you have no sense of decency?"He pauses, seems to think about this, then turns and walks out the door.”

“I'm thinking about that afternoon you came to the empty restaurant, that day after the Alchemist. You were so alone." He pauses. I was. I'd never felt so alone. "Nobody saw it, but I did. I always see you. And you came in that door and came up to me and everything was new.”

“Without warning, Packard reaches out--I think he's going to touch my cheek, but he slides his hand around the nape of my neck and pulls me to him, kissing me warm and strong, lips soft, breath like coffee. The kiss takes me by surprise. My whole body wants to follow deeper into him, but he pulls away, and we're looking into each other's eyes, and the moment stops. And everything seems to fall out beneath me."Good luck," he whispers."Packard--"He opens the door. "It's okay."I stare at the open door. It feels like a closed door. And I leave.”

“I got it right Justine. Feel into it. Your sense of being a misfit blinds you to what your heart really wants. When you get around solid upstanding men you’re like a bird with tinfoil. It makes you incoherent on a romantic level.” “My affection is incoherent unless it’s for you That’s the line you’re giving me here ” “This is real.” He points out the door. “That isn’t.”

“You have the most contact with Packard.""No, I don't.""Yes, you do," they say in unison."You just saw him," Helmut says."He had to deliver some gloves to me," I explain.Helmut raises an eyebrow. "And he couldn't have sent them with one of his people?"I don't answer. I'm thinking about those pretty gloves, clearly chosen to match that specific dress of mine. So thoughtful. Did he pick them out himself?Helmut snorts. "And what was he wearing?""A dinner jacket," I say, "but just to blend in with the crowd.""And did you share any food or beverage-""It wasn't a date."Simon tips his glass into his mouth and chews ice loudly."It wasn't a date.”

“Sometimes you have to be a bad person to save yourself, and it takes a little chunk out of your soul, but you do it anyway.”

“All I could think of was you. All I can ever think about is you. Why am I always fighting it? Always fighting thinking about you, fighting this wonderful feeling about you. This aliveness. This love.” I look into his eyes and smile like a madwoman. “I love you!” I can’t stop saying it. “I love you. Love, love love.”