Kate Stewart

Thank you for schooling me that it’s okay to doubt, but not to dwell in it. All of my love and respect little brother.

Because of that, I believed it, because I made myself believe it, and I bred the most masochistic of romantic hearts, which resulted in my illness.

Because of that, I believed it, because I made myself believe it, and I bred the most masochistic of romantic hearts, which resulted in my illness.

You can’t re-live your own love story because, by the time you’ve realized you’re living it, it’s over. At least that was the case for me.

“If you’re ever wondering what to do, that’s what you do. Whatever you fucking want, whenever you want, and you don’t apologize for it, not ever.”

“This is insane.”

“Welcome to my world,” he murmurs, before sealing me inside it with his kiss.

He presses a kiss to my temple. “I’ll see you there. And don’t you dare smudge that fucking lipstick. That’s for me.”

“My rainy days are yours, Dominic. If you want them.”

“That’s the kicker of seeing is believing. Any convincing devil worth a damn can look you in the eye and make you believe he doesn’t exist.”

“Good to hear. You ready to have some fun?”
“Always.”
“That’s my girl.” Tucked in his passenger seat, he buckles me in and presses a gentle kiss to my lips, as if he can’t wait another second to do so.

I’ve bore witness to two prime examples that there are good men left in the world. Loyal men. Faithful men. Though thieves they may be because they’ve stolen my heart.
I’m in love with both of them.