“I can't get over this. Dad isn't Sam's dad? Dad is a friend? How was I supposed to know that? People shouldn't be allowed to sign themselves as Dad unless they are your dad. It should be the law.”

“It'll be George Michael all over again," Dad mutters darkly to Mum, and I give a sharp intake of breath. That is AGAINST our family code. No one was supposed to mention George Michael ever again. We even turn off "Carless Whisper" whenever it comes on.”

“Oh, this shouldn't be allowed. There should be a rule which says that people you've met in the gym should never meet you in real life.”

“He so did not sit down and have a proper talk with her. I know it. He probably sent her a brief text, saying, Over. Sam.”

“Rosie had been a little girl with a dead dad, and there was no getting around that or over that. Even a drunk dad, even an asshole, was better than a dead dad, which shouldn't reflect on you but did, and left a cannon hole in your heart. [p. 121]”

“Everyone knows the first rule of business is "Look good during confrontations." Or if it isn't, it should be.”

“What are they waiting to see?" Sam follows my gaze and I shrug. "Who knows? You could always do a dance, or tell a joke, or... kiss the bride?""Not the bride," he wraps his arms around me, and gradually pulls me close. Our noses are practically touching. I can see right into his eyes. I can feel the warmth of his skin. "you." Me. "The girl who stole my phone." His lips brush across the corner of my mouth. "The thief.""It was in a bin.""Still stealing.""No it isn't-," I begin. But now his mouth is firmly on mine, and I can't speak at all. And suddenly, life is good.”