Lucia opened the door. "They say not to discuss politics and religion on the first date."“Well, then.” I gave her a huge smile. “We’re screwed.

Sophie clutched Grant tighter. 'I don’t know what screwed-up messages from your family are floating around in your head right now, but you’re staying right here.

Okay, I’ve got the hidden microphones with GPS here,” Agent Bounter said. “Let’s get one on you.”“Now, sir?”
“The Russians are on the radar. It’s time.”As Bounter turned to pick up the tiny button-size microphone, Grant clenched his hands into fists, his anticipation building.It’s time.

His voice as smooth as silk, Grant started into his standard crowd-pleaser: Sinatra’s 'My Kind of Town.

I’m glad I went to prison," Grant rasped in Sophie’s ear, so quietly only she could hear. "Because then I found you.

Um, h-h-hi,” Sophie stammered, closing the door behind her. Meeting her gaze were crystal eyes like blue shards of glass.

Everyone plays guitar alone, but we can play side by side.

To embrace love, we risk heartbreak. To resist love, we risk emptiness.

Two did not become one, but rather two came together—each one strong, healthy, and resilient, making the whole steadfast and true. They didn’t lose themselves in each other, but found themselves in each other instead.