“His eyes sliced to me and he clipped, “Stop that shit.” “What shit?” I asked “The cold, remote Faye. It’s shit,” he answered. “You’re right. It is. It’s a façade to hide the fact my heart is breaking. But, whatever. That isn’t your problem anymore. Now, can I point out, you told me you need space but you’re still fraking here?”

“Sorry doesn’t mean anything! Not when you’re still with him. It’s not just that you cheated—it’s that he’s still here, and you’re still with him. It just goes on and on, and it hurts every single time I see you with him. I hate it that he makes you smile, and that there’s nothing I can do to stop this. I can’t think straight, and everything hurts, and nothing makes sense anymore. You’re shredding my heart with one hand and stroking his ego with the other. And it’s killing me, Faythe. You’re killing me. And it’s only going to get worse, now that everyone knows.”

“Isn’t ‘I need space’ the universal couples equivalent of ‘I need you to pack your shit and get out of my life’?”

“I got it right Justine. Feel into it. Your sense of being a misfit blinds you to what your heart really wants. When you get around solid upstanding men you’re like a bird with tinfoil. It makes you incoherent on a romantic level.” “My affection is incoherent unless it’s for you That’s the line you’re giving me here ” “This is real.” He points out the door. “That isn’t.”

“Oh, baby, don’t ask me that question. I know exactly who and what I am…and more to the point, what I’m capable of. How dare you bring your prissy little ass into one of my clubs and pull this shit. You’re lucky you’re still breathing. (Savitar)”

“The first impression scares the shit out of me, but it’s breathtaking, too, like when you push off a cliff and feel the wind against your face. At that point, you’re not thinking of anything but free fall.”