“Editing fiction is like using your fingers to untangle the hair of someone you love.”

“I wanted to stay here forever, held tight to his chest, his fingers stroking my hair, his heart beating against my ear: you're-safe, trust-me, love-you. Love. Did I want him to love me? Yes. I wanted someone to love me.”

“I cried for a while, taking solace in the comforting lie of his embrace. The illusion, the fantasy, it helped. I never wanted to leave. I wanted to stay here forever, held tight to his chest, his fingers stroking my hair, his heart beating against my ear: you’re-safe, trust-me, love-you. Love. Did I want him to love me? Yes. I wanted someone to love me. And what was love if not someone risking their lives to save you? Caleb had saved me. Did it mean he loved me? A part of me wanted to think so. To believe in a romantic ideal that didn’t exist. I wanted to believe the lie. But more than that – I wanted it not to be a lie”

“You can't edit a blank page”

“Your Olympic medal.I went looking for you in your office.""The medal lures parents who can afford the tuition.""It's something to be proud of.""I am proud of it." With her free hand she brushed her hair as the breeze teased it. Her fingertips skimmed over the soft petals of the flower. "But it doesn't define me.""Not like,what was it? A British tie?"The laugh got away from her, and eased the odd tension that had been building inside her. "Here's a surprise. With a great deal of time and some effort, I might begin to like you.""I've plenty of time." He released her hand to toy with the ends of her hair. She jerked back. "You're a skittish one," he murmured."No, not particularly." Usually, she thought. With most people."The thing is, I like to touch," he told her and deliberately skimmed his fingers over her hair again. "It's that...connection.You learn by touching.""I don't..." She trailed off when those fingers ran firmly down the back of her neck. "I've learned you carry your worries right there, right at the base there. More worries than show on your face. It's a staggering face you have, Keeley. Throws a man off.”

“I'm twenty-eight, a socially appropriate age for settling down. I love Peter, but being with someone means being with yourself in a way that's harder than when you are on your own.”

“Are you always so forthright over coffee dates?” “I don’t know. You’re the only one I ever had a crush on.” Oh, boy. “And that was stupid.” Flustered again, he raked his fingers through his hair. “Now I’ve scared you. That sounds scary and obsessive. Like I have an alter somewhere with your pictures over it, where I light candles and chant your name. Jesus! That’s even scarier. Run now. I won’t hold it against you.” She burst out laughing. Had to set her coffee back down before she slouched it over the rim. “I’ll stay if you swear you don’t have the alter.” “I don’t.” He swiped his finger in an X over his heart.”