Just make sure you're gone by the time we get to Miles's. It creeps me out to see you sitting in his lap without his permission.

I thought it was real. But by morning, all I had left were fragmented pieces, shifting images with no beginning or end.

Some may say I'm perceptive" "And what would you say?" I ask, my voice edgy, tired of being toyed with. "I'd say I agree.

Our past may shape us, but it doesn't define who we become.

You left me." Not realizing until I've said my final good-bye and closed the door behind me, that he's not referring to the past. He's prophesying our future.

And while I'm sure you feel that your particular mistake is extraordinarily big, insurmountable even, contrary to what you might think, these types of things can always be undone, and oftentimes aren't nearily as lethal as we think—or, should I say, as we allow them to be.

He pulls me into his arms, his touch calm and soothing, but unable to erase the truth. "I have to go," he finally whispers. "But Ever, if you want to love me, if you truly want to be with me, then you'll have to accept what we are. I'll understand if you can't.