“He pulls me close, too close. I’m frozen in five hundred layers of fear. Stunned in grief, in disbelief.”

“He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my waist and pulling me in close. So. Close.”

“Still in one piece?” Vincent teased, pulling me close & planting a soft kiss on my lips. “After dirty-dancing with Jules, I’m not sure.”

“He is no longer mine to lose, but the grief is there, a gnawing sense of disbelief.”

“The difference is slight, to the influence of an author, whether he is read by five hundred readers, or by five hundred thousand; if he can select the five hundred, he reaches the five hundred thousand.”

“Even more than the cold, I’m frozen by the sadness in his beautiful eyes, deep and true. He squeezes them closed a moment and breathes deeply through his nose. Then, with one swift movement, he cups the back of my neck with a strong hand, pulls my head forward, and presses his lips to mine. He wastes precious moments kissing me, his tongue gliding across my lips, darting at my teeth. I open my mouth and kiss back just as eagerly.”