“You don't blast a heart open," she said. "You coax and nurture it open, like the sun does to a rose.”

“She's like snow in Russian," said Anna. "Snow in the evening when the sun sets and it looks like Alpengluhen, you know? And if snow had a scent it would smell like that [the rose]....”

“Sean’s hands had risen to comb the hair at the nape of his neck, to draw him closer, to coax his mouth—his heart—open.”

“You think of me like a book?''Of course,' she said. 'To open your pages is to be taken into another world.”

“Don't pretend you don't like it when I treat you as a lady.”“Maybe I don't.”Despite that, he still opened the car door for me, with his lips curving up into a careless grin. “Girls always do that,” he said, “—pretend they think you're taking their independence from them if you open a door. But that's not the case.”“Well, what is the case?” I sat down on the front seat—leaving my feet on the driveway.“Simply that we're demonstrating good-breeding; showing the girl we're worthy and capable of taking care of her—that we're polite, considerate and nurturing.”I folded my arms. “Women don't need nurturing—or to be taken care of. We can fend for ourselves. We're equal to men, you know.”

“If I showed you what was in my heart," she said, "it would burn you to a cinder."I've tried to burn you similarly," it said, "but you never even noticed when I opened my chest.”