“My subconscious is furious, medusa-like in her anger, hair flying, her hands clenched around her face like Edvard Munch's Scream.”

“Oh no! My subconscious slams down her Complete Works of Charles Dickens, leaps up from her armchair, and puts her hands on her hips.”

“My inner goddess is jumping up and down, clapping her hands like a five year old.”

“Crusty and Cross here,' he says and I grin. He’s still playful Fifty. My inner goddess is clapping her hands with glee like a small child.”

“Thank you, baby," he breathes, covering my upturned face in soft feather-light kisses. I open my eyes and gaze up at him, and he wraps his arms tighter around me."Your cheek is pink from the baize," he murmurs, rubbing my face tenderly. "How was that?" His eyes are wide and cautious."Teeth-clenchingly good," I mutter. "I like it rough, Christian, and I like it gentle, too. I like that it's with you."He closes his eyes and hugs me even tighter.”

“Can I take the cap and gown off now? I feel kind of dorky." You look kind of dorky...my subconscious is at her snarky best. So are you going to introduce Ray to the man you're f**king? She is glaring at me over her wing-shaped spectacles. He'd be so proud.”

“We knew, and to see her there like that with you-and armed. I think I died a thousand deaths, Ana.”