You know," I told him on our wedding night, "I'm just as much me when I'm with you, as I am without you." And because Hardy understood what I meant, he pulled me into his arms, against his heart.

Where are we going?” Annabelle asked, resisting his hold on her wrist. “To the house. If they’re not willing to be witnesses, then it seems I’ll have to debauch you in front of someone else.

To be honest," I halfwhispered, "I don't feel as safe with him as I do with you." "I know." A ghost of a smile touched my lips. "How do you know?" "Think about what safety is, Ella." "Trust?" "Yes, partly. But also an absence of risk." He unstuck a strand of hair from my damp cheek and tucked it back. "Maybe you need to take a risk. Maybe you need to be with someone who rattles you a little.

I didn't know how to stop wanting him. It wasn't that I had any hope—I knew I'd never see him again. But that didn't stop me from comparing every other man to Hardy and finding them all lacking. I had exhausted myself loving him.

I think at this point, safety isn't a feeling, it's a process. Starting with trust.

You could run to the farthest corners of the earth. There's no place you could go where I wouldn't love you. Nothing you could do to stop me.

His quiet certainty made the ground beneath my feet feel solid. Like someday everything might actually be okay.