Before I can process what’s happening, Deirdre has opened her hands and Linden has taken the ring from her and slipped it onto my finger. “Rhine Ashby,” he says. “My wife.

Home?' I say. It's a word that can mean anywhere and nowhere.

But I know all the things you're too sweet to know.

...maybe hope isn't such a bad thing. Maybe it's what keeps us together.

Good night, sweetheart," he says. "Good bye, sweetheart," I say. And it's so casual, so innocent that he doesn't suspect a thing.

Lovers are weapons, but love is a wound.

For males twenty-five is the fatal age. For women it's twenty. We are all dropping like flies.