Roan rested his forehead against his and put a hand on his chest. Sweet man, one he didn’t
deserve. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“The insanity that is my life. Me.”
“Hey, I signed up for this ride. I knew from past experience that sexy men were always trouble,
and it wasn’t like your reputation didn’t precede you. I have no one to blame but myself.”
“You think I’m sexy?”
“Don’t fish for compliments.

How did I know you were going to show up?”
“Because you’re psychic now?”
Dylan raised an eyebrow at that. “If I was actually psychic, sweetheart, I probably wouldn’t have
gotten involved with you.”
“Oh, ow,” he said, grabbing his chest. “I think you just made my heart hurt.

Yeah, that would be awesome. Me loaded and trying very hard not to make a scene, while the
guy who had one gay slip with me and his wife are not five feet away, also trying not to be awkward.
That’ll be so much fun. I just might hang myself with a rope made of braided napkins.”
“Aww. Nice touch with the braid. Very gay,” Dylan told him, patting him on the back.
Roan looked at him with a frown. “No one likes a sarcastic bastard, Dyl.”
“Well, I do.” He paused briefly. “Obviously.”
Ouch.

The problem with life—with a lot of things—was randomness was responsible for so many things.

You can't be a trailblazer without causing some chaos.

I'm not going to lie to you and say it gets easier, because it doesn't. It's just that you get used to it. The human animal has an amazing capacity to get used to almost anything.