“Alain Badiou was once seated amongst the public in a room where I was delivering a talk, when his cellphone (which, to add insult to injury, was mine -- I had lent it to him) all of a sudden started to ring. Instead of turning it off, he gently interrupted me and asked me if I could talk more softly, so that he could hear his interlocutor more clearly . . . If this was not an act of true friendship, I do not know what friendship is. So, this book is dedicated to Alain Badiou.”

“But we are here, all of us. And we're here because I love you, more than the life that was mine. Because I believed you loved me the same way...will you tell me that's not true?No, he said after a moment, so softly I could barely hear him. His hand tightened harder on mine. No, I willna tell ye that. Not ever, Claire.”

“Okay, okay, backing off. Um, I suppose this would be a bad time to ask you to talk to Pete for me, you know, about the car?'His eyes widened. I could almost hear him thinking, Of all the nerve! 'You were driving,' he said.'But he likes you so much better than me.''That is because I do not keep wrecking the rentals.”

“Thank you,” I said, turning around a little so I could talk to him. “You’re a good friend.”“I know,” he said, as he tightened his hold around me. I leaned back against his chest, resting against him. “Beckett, I–,” I started to say, but he stopped me.“Shh,” he said. “You don’t need to say anything. Just watch the fireworks.”

“Good," he said. "We need to talk." Suddenly, I didn't feel so relaxed anymore. Talk? What does he want to talk about? The part where I nearly died? I didn't want to talk about that. Because the fact is, that whole part, the part where I nearly died, well, I nearly died trying to save him. Seriously. I was hoping he hadn't noticed, but I could tell by the look on his face that he totally had. Noticed, I mean. And now he wanted to talk about it. But how could I talk about it? Without letting it slip? The L word, I mean. "You know what?" I said, very fast. "I don't want to talk. Is that okay? I really, really don't want to talk. I am all talked out. Jesse lifted Spike of his lap and put him on the floor. Then he stood up. What was he doing? I wondered. What was he doing? I took a deep breath, and kept talking about not talking. "I'm just--Look," I said as he took a step toward me. "I'm just going to give CeeCee a call and maybe we'll go to the beach or something, because really...I just need a day off." Another step forward. Now he was right in front of me. "Especially," I said, significantly, looking up at him, "from talking. That's especially what I need a day off from. Talking." "Fine," he said. He reached up and cupped my face in both hands. "We don't have to talk." And that's when he kissed me. On the lips.”

“You’re the kind of girl I could fall in love with,” he whispered, so softly that I almost didn’t hear him. His lips caught mine again before I could respond.”