“Then he asks if he can kiss me. It is a question I don’t usually like. Just do it, I always think.”

“Why do you always answer questions with questions?”“Why don’t you shut up and kiss me?”She didn’t have to ask twice.”

“I could have told, just looking at him, that that was the tone he would use asking a question. A tone that took it for granted any question he asked was going to be answered because he asked it. I don't like it and I know of no way anybody is ever going to make me like it.”

“ARE YOU CRAZY?" I ASKED. He gave me the same wordless look he always did when I asked that question.”

“I don’t stay anywhere. I visit. I observe. I leave. I don’t ever stay.”I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with this information. Tell him to leave? Tell him to stay? But I don’t have time to consider any other alternatives, because he scoots in closer and brings his hands to my face, and I fall back into the bookcase as he kisses me with this intensity—like he wants to be here, and if he kisses me just long enough, deeply enough, none of what he just said will actually be true.”

“Then come here," he said, a bit redundantly, as he had already pulled her with him into an armchair and curled her up in his arms. "Tell me what I can do to help you feel better."Fire looked into his quiet eyes, touched his dear, familiar face, and considered the question. Well. I always like when you kiss me."Do you?"You're good at it."Well," he said. "That's lucky, because I'll always be kissing you.”