“If his Holiness asks for me, tell him I am -" I was what? What excuse would be sufficient to hold off Borgia the Bull when he wanted, nay demanded attention?'Tell him I am attending to a gynecological matter but will return shortly.”

“When he sees me, he stops.His eyes widen, his face pales.And then before i can say anything, he's holding me.And the worst part is-I want to hold him.But I also want to slap him, hit him. Punch him. Tear out his throat.I want him to tell me what he did to me was a mistake. Some horrible mix-up. . .after I'm done holding him back.”

“He comes down next to me, and when I hold out my hand, he takes it. Our fingers lace together. And in that feeling, that perfect feeling of our hands and fingers pressed together, I want to tell him everything. I want to tell him about Josh, and his sister, Emily. I want to tell him about tall, crazy Gert. I want to tell him about bridges and funerals, and most of all, maps. More than anything else, I want to tell him about myself. I want to tell him that I know what things look like from above now. There's so much I want to tell him, because I know he'll understand.”

“You can't touch me," I whisper. I'm lying, is what I don't tell him. He can touch me, is what I'll never tell him. Please touch me, is what I want to tell him.”

“I am a drop of gold he would sayI am molten matter returned from the core of earth to tell you interior things-”

“I wanted to walk over there. I wanted to curl up beside him, lean against him, talk to him. I wanted to know what he was thinking. I wanted to tell him everything would be okay. And I wanted him to tell me the same thing. I didn't care if it was true or not- I just wanted to say it. To hear it, to feel his arms around me, hear the rumble of his words, that deep chuckle that made me pulse race”