Sheyla Costa

“She started out, then pressed a hand on the door to brace herself. “You think I don’t know, that I don’t understand what that cost you. But you’re wrong.” She couldn’t keep her voice steady, gave up trying. “You’re wrong, Roarke. I do know. There’s no one else in the world who would want, who would need to kill for me. No one else in the world who would step back from it because I asked it. Because I needed it.”
She turned, and the first tear spilled over. “No one but you.”

“Don’t. You’ll do me in if you cry.”

“I never in my life expected anyone would love me, all of me. How would I deserve that? What would I do with it? But you do. Everything we’ve managed to have together, to be to each other, this is more. I’ll never be able to find the words to tell you what you just gave me.”

“You undo me, Eve. Who else would make me feel like a hero for doing nothing.”

“You did everything. Everything. Are everything.” Mira was right, again. Love, that strange and terrifying entity, was the answer after all. “Whatever there is, whatever happened to me, or how it comes back on me, you have to know, you need to know that what you did here gave me more peace than I ever thought I’d find. You have to know that I can face anything knowing you love me.”

“Eve.” He stepped away from the slot, away from what was gone. And toward her, toward what mattered. “I can’t do anything but love you.”
― J.D. Robb, Divided in Death

“A happy marriage is the union of two good forgivers.”
― Ruth Bell Graham

“He kissed my forehead gently. "Loving you has put me through hell more than once, Sassenach; I'll risk it again, if need be." "Bah," I said. "And you think loving you has been a bed of roses, do you?" This time he laughed out loud. "No," he said, "but you'll maybe keep doing it?" "Maybe I will, at that." "You're a verra stubborn woman," he said, the smile clear in his voice.”
― Diana Gabaldon, Voyager

“The next thing she knew, he was shaking her gently by the shoulder. “Eve.” “What!” Her eyes popped open. “I wasn’t sleeping. I was thinking.” “Yes, I could hear you thinking.” “If that’s some smart-ass way of saying I was snoring, bite me.”
― J.D. Robb, Divided in Death