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93 pages, ebook
First published June 16, 2015

Love, real love, is being seen. Being known. Knowing the ugliest part of someone, and loving them anyway.




“Sometime. Something . . .” Isabelle mulled it over, letting him twist in the wind for a few endless, agonizing seconds. Then her smile widened so far that Simon thought he might actually self-combust. “I guess it’s a date.”


“He just knew, on a level beneath reason and memory, that some part of him belonged with Isabelle.”


"Loving someone doesn't mean you're never going to make mistakes," he said. "I've made more than my share. I know that. And of some I will never have the chance to make up for."
He just knew, on a level beneath reason and memory, that some part of him belonged with Isabelle. Maybe even belonged to Isabelle. Whether he could remember why or not.