“You know what's kind of funny? Well, not funny, but ironic, maybe? She's been here nine months now, and it takes nine months to create life. It's like she's been reborn. And the fact that tomorrow you turn eighteen is just another piece of it. It feels like right now is the start of something, like we're at the beginning and not the finish line."Dominic started to walk away but paused after a few steps, his brow furrowed. "Actually, I don't think that's what irony is. Haven would probably correct me again and say I was being symbolic.”

“I’m gonna take a nap, Heaven,” he said, wanting away from her to clear his head. He didn’t like feeling uncomfortable in his house.“Haven,” she corrected him as he started to walk away.“I know,” he said. “I kinda like Heaven though.”She turned to him, and their eyes met for the first time since he’d walked into the room. “Me, too.”

“Who are you anyway? What are you even doing here?”“Haven,” she said quietly, peeking at him.He gazed at her peculiarly. “Heaven? No, this definitely isn't Heaven. But I get why you’re confused, since I'm standing in front of you.” She stared at him, and hecracked a smile. “I'm kidding. Well, kinda… I have been told I've taken a girl to Heaven a time or two.”“Haven, not Heaven,” she said, louder than before. Nothing about the conversation made sense to her. “My name’s Haven.”

“She's a great cook.""Yeah," Carmine said. "Probably the Italian in her."[...]Dominic laughed. "Must be. You know damn well she has Carmine's full-blooded Italian in her all the time."Carmine's muscles went rigid, and Vincent started coughing as he choked on his drink. Celia snorted, trying to hold back her amusement, but Dominic didn't bother containing himself.”

“A girl would be lucky to have you, but not like this, Carmine. Not the way you treat people now. You're wasting your time, and it's not worth it. You need to find something that is. So, maybe your life isn’t boring, but it has to be unfulfilling.”

“There isn't a button," she said. "You choose your setting and then you pull the dial." He glanced at her as she folded a shirt, annoyed by her nonchalance at doing laundry. "What exactly is my setting? It looks to me like the setting is the goddamn laundry room and the plot is I don't know how to fucking turn this thing on.”

“They're titles other people give us. They don't make us who we are. If you're just a slave, then I'm nothing more than a Principe. Is that all I am, Haven? A Mafia Prince?"No, of course not."That's what I thought," he said. "Just because some people see us that way doesn't mean it's what we are. We'll overcome our labels together. They don't matter, they don't make us who we are. We make us who are are. Fuck those motherfuckers."She laughed. "When did you get so smart?""Baby, I've always been smart," he said playfully. "I'm just lazy as hell and rarely show it.”