Sydney sighed and stood up, smoothing her rumpled clothes with dismay. ʺI need a coffee shop or something.ʺ ʺI think I saw one in a cave down the road,ʺ I said. That almost got a smile from her

But when the other end of the line picked up, it was his voicemail that answered, not the man himself. "I know how devastated you must be to miss me," his cheery voice said, "but leave a message, and I'll try to ease your agony as soon as possible.

We cannot road trip to Paris.

Dreams, dreams. I walk them; I live them. I delude myself with them. It's a wonder I can spot reality anymore.

Most fathers don't threaten to disembowel their daughter's boyfriends." "That's not true. And anyway, that's not what I actually said. It was much worse.

Do you go see her?" "No," I said, refusing to acknowledge that I'd just seen Lissa last night. "That's not my life anymore." "Right. Your life is all about dangerous vigilante missions." "You wouldn't understand anything that isn't drinking, smoking, or womanizing." He shook his head. "You're the only one I want, Rose." "Well, you can keep feeling that way, but you're going to have to keep waiting." "Much longer?" He asked me. "I don't know." Hope blossomed on Adrian's face. "That's the most optimistic thing you've told me so far.

But I didn't know about the other story." "What other story?” "About how you and Adrian Ivashkov are—" "No, whatever you heard it’s not true." "But it was really romantic" "Then it’s definitely not true.