Swimming in bewilderment, Fiona somehow managed to remain relatively calm while the man who'd starred in her dreams for months sat beside her on the sofa. Relatively calm - in her dictionary - loosely translated to not drooling or humiliating herself.

The multicolored kitten snuggled between her breasts.

Lucky cat.

"I thought maybe something like....Sweetums."

"What? That's a wussy name. She'd totally get her ass kicked by all the other neighborhood cats. You can't call her...that. See I can't even say it. It's too ridiculous."

Abby chuckled, and the sound drifted over him like a warm breeze.

"I suppose you want me to call her Rowdy, or Bullet or Chainsaw," she said.

"Those aren't bad." He liked it when she teased him. "Maybe you could name her something like Flash, or Blaze, or Storm.

"Or maybe I could call her pooty pie."

"Oh my God." He slapped his forehead. "You're killing me. You'd be better off sticking with Sweetums."

"Ha!" She pointed her finger at him. "You said it." Before he could wrap his hand around that finger and pull her against him, he gave the kitten-who purred contentedly between Abby's breasts-a rub between the ears.

Lucky damn cat.

We need you to come home.

You have captured me utterly, and you hold my heart in your hands. Be gentle with it. It's more fragile than you might think.

He understood how dangerous oaths could be. But Leo didn't care.
"I'm coming back for you, Calypso," he said to the night wind. "I swear it on the River Styx.

I want you, Delilah Anne. Never doubt that. I want a life with you. With your voice and your touch and your thoughts and your arguments. I want your grace and your mistakes and your promises and your everything, all twisted up with mine. I want it so bad that I feel like I can’t breathe whenever I think about being without you.