“How old are you?”“Physiologically, I’m twenty-five. Chronologically, I’m…not.”

“Careful old-timer, your age is showing.”“Hey, I’m only thirty-two. I’m in my prime, woman!”She harrumphed. “Well, I’m a mere twenty-five and you’re way too old for me.”Jay’s eyes smoldered as he whispered, “My experience is your gain.”

“I’m thirty,” I said. “I’m five years too old to lie to myself and call it honor”

“I feel like I’m finally whole. I’m five thousand years old,” he rasped. “But the day you found me in the woods, that’s when my life started.”

“I’m thirty-six years old, but I don’t feel like it. Some days I feel like I’m twenty-one, some days I feel like I’m pushing sixty.”

“You understand,” Silas says quietly—the words are just for me, but I know Scarlett hears—“I’m . . . when I’m twenty-eight, Rosie. You know what this means. I’m dangerous, Rosie.”“You plan on loving me when you’re twenty-eight?” I interrupt, uncertain if my question is serious or not.Silas’s eyes widen in surprise. He turns to look out the taxi window for a moment, and when his eyes meet mine again, there’s a beautiful sincerity glistening in the gray-blue irises. “Rosie . . . I love you. Now, when I’m twenty-eight, when I’m thirty-five . . . I love you.”I exhale. “Okay, then.”“But I’m—”I put a finger against his soft, bow-shaped lips. “Okay, then.”