“Fine.” He smirks at me. “Nice to meet you, Carrots,” he says, looking directly at my hair. “Oh, I mean Clara.”My face flames.“Same to you, Rusty,” I shoot back, but he’s already striding away.”

“So did you really mean all that stuff you said when I was a dead man?""Every word.""Could you say it again?" he asks. "My memory's a little fuzzy.""Which part?" The part where I said I wanted to stay with you forever?""Yeah," he murmurs, his face close to mine, his breath hot on my cheek."When I said that I love you?"He pulls back a little, searches my eyes with his. "Yes. Say it.""I love you."He takes a deep, happy breath. "I love you," he says back. "I love you, Clara."Then his gaze drops to my lips again, and he leans in, and the rest of the world simply goes away.”

“Have a nice life, Clara,” he says. “You deserve to be happy.”

“It's been nice knowing you, Clara.'Huh? My brain still a bit shell-shocked.'Say a prayer for me, will you? He gives me a shaky grin. Because I'm pretty sure my parents are going to kill me”

“You like me, Clara, he says. "I know you do.”

“Clara,” he says quietly. “I think it’s time you told me about what happened in Italy.”

“Clara," he says, my name sounding different somehow when it passes through his lips. "I'll miss you.”