Windy City Quotes

Sometimes the quietest love is the loudest.

You don’t have to love your body every single day. That’s unrealistic to expect, but I’ll be here loving it for the days you can’t.

If you ever decide to stop running and make a home…” His eyes are begging, pleading. “Make it with me.

How else would you get to live a thousand lives in the span of only one? The beauty of fiction is that it makes you feel things on a visceral level. You can cry with those characters, laugh with them. It teaches you to look at another’s perspective, to have empathy. In nonfiction, you simply learn about something instead of feeling it.

I know I don’t have your history, but I want your future.

But the truth is, I do want to be loved, and that’s scary to admit. It’s a lot easier to say you don’t want to be loved when no one loves you.

When did I say that? I’m a romance reader. I have a thing for assholes.

Stevie,” Zanders says. “You following me?

It hurts a whole lot less to be hated when you’re not being yourself than it does not to be loved for who you are,

I love that you read romance novels to feel something. I love that you love flowers and plants because nurturing and allowing something to grow is second nature to you. I love that you experience every emotion so hard it takes over your entire body. But baby, I want to be the one to make you feel how your favorite books do.

This is practically a how-to manual on how to please a woman. How are more men not reading these?

Touch her and I’ll kill you. Say something that makes her upset and I’ll ruin your life. Look at her inappropriately and I will beat the living shit out of you.

You’re my first choice, Vee. My only choice.

At some point, I should probably tell her that my love language is whichever one she wants it to be so she can stop guessing. I’ll make sure that girl feels loved however she needs.

If shit-talking is a love language, then it’s ours, and I thoroughly plan on bantering with my wild girl for the rest of my life.

Do you love her?” “I do. Very much so.” “She might break your heart.” “I’ll love her anyway.

On more than one occasion I have been ready to abandon my whole life for love. To alter everything that makes sense to me and to move into a different world where the only known will be the beloved. Such a sacrifice must be the result of love... or is it that the life itself was already worn out? I had finished with that life, perhaps, and could not admit it, being stubborn or afraid, or perhaps did not known it, habit being a great binder. I think it is often so that those most in need of change choose to fall in love and then throw up their hands and blame it all on fate. But it is not fate, at least, not if fate is something outside of us; it is a choice made in secret after nights of longing. ... I may be cynical when I say that very rarely is the beloved more than a shaping spirit for the lover's dreams... To be a muse may be enough. The pain is when the dreams change, as they do, as they must. Suddenly the enchanted city fades and you are left alone again in the windy desert. As for your beloved, she didn't understand you. The truth is, you never understood yourself.

I think part of me will always want to hide away, but I want to hide here, with you.

His quiet love. It’s always the loudest.

All I can think about is seeing you smile and trying to be the reason you are.

You can’t stop being who you are because someone else thinks it’s too much, Ind. He can go find less.

Stevie girl, I’ll follow you anywhere.

I pepper kisses on the side of her head as I watch a smile pull at her lips through the mirror. And though I love every single curve on her body, that one right there is my favorite.

Can I read some of your book?”  “Really?” He nods excitedly.

Wrapping an arm over her shoulders, I kiss her head. “You are the most jealous woman I’ve ever met. You know that?” Her head jerks back. “You’ve met other women?

Has anyone ever told you that you’re a little possessive, Shay?”  His chest rumbles against my back in a silent laugh. “Never. But then again, no one else has ever made me feel quite as greedy as you do.

Sometimes history really means nothing when the right people walk into your life.

I would’ve followed you anywhere, but you never asked.

I'm not telling you what you should or shouldn't do with your life. I just don't want you to be so afraid to fail at something new that it keeps you from finding your happiness when you're the reason I found mine.

You’re chaotic as fuck, Blue, but you bring me more peace than anyone else.

So, ‘Vee’, huh?” “It’s a family nickname.”  “My family nickname is Zee. Vee and Zee. Aren’t we fucking adorable?

Hey, Isaiah?”  “Yeah?” “I live, laugh, love you too.

I’m not easily distracted, but if I could manifest my perfect distraction, it’d look a lot like her.

Monty exhales a contented sigh. “Just know that I loved her first.”  I nod. “And I’ll love her always.

You know that jersey you’ve got with my last name on it? When you see it hanging there in your closet, let it serve as a reminder to you, that soon enough, it’ll be her last name too.

There’s only so much oxygen on an airplane. I don’t want his ego to suffocate the rest of us.  You know, safety and all that shit.

He’ll be on his hands and knees most of the time.” “As all men should be.

Know what's better than being the best at something you don't love? Being mediocre at something you do.

I haven’t seen black and white since the second you walked into my apartment. Now it’s pink-painted toes, purple clothes, green plants, and those goddamn yellow curtains.” He shakes his head. “And so much fucking Blue. All I see is Blue.”  Translation: All I see is you.

With my name on her back and my son in her arms, Miller stands in the center of the field, looking like mine.  She should be mine. Ours.

I’m trying to get along with my teammates, and now I’m fighting the urge to get them all traded just from imagining you giving any of them the time of day. Jealous enough for you, Blue?

That’s what happens when you spend your entire life loving one person. Every memory includes them.  And now I’m left grieving a version of my life that no longer exists.

I don’t like the term ‘settling down.’ I didn’t settle for anything. I simply stopped running when the two best boys I know caught me.

your mom is the absolute worst, Zee.”  “So is yours.” I rest my head on his shoulder. “Look at us,” I tease. “Trauma-bonding.

Hey, Stevie?” “Hmm.” Her head leans on her arms, facing me. “I like talking to you.

You don’t have feelings?” Maddison asks, unconvinced. “You cried while watching Coco with Ella. You have fucking feelings, man. You should start letting people know.

Find your passion, Miller. Find what makes you excited to get up every morning and if it's not this, walk away." Well, fuck me, am I that obvious? "This is what I'm good at." "Oh, you're fucking brilliant at it. But you know what's better than being the best at something you don't love? Being mediocre at something you do.

Do you want me to get on my knees and beg or something?” “Now that you say it.” She cocks her head to the side, eyes roaming my length. “I wouldn’t mind knowing what you look like on your knees, Shay.

I’m telling you this, not as her dad but as your friend. She will leave when the summer is over. I love my daughter to death, but she’s a runner and the last thing she wants is to get caught.

We aren’t into bras?”  “We? I personally don’t love wearing one with my pajamas, but you do you.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “Judgment free zone.

Don’t hurt me.” He searches my face, trying to read me as hope overtakes him. “I couldn’t.

So, you like me?” His smile is eager and excitable.  I can’t help but laugh at this giant man asking such a childish question. “What do you think?” “Say it. Stroke my ego, Stevie.

She sounds cute.”  She is cute. In the same way a tornado is cute. Or a pack of starved lions. Super cute.

Grief seems like a privilege, in a way,” she says. “To have loved someone so much that you can’t imagine life without them.

He looks right at her, his icy blues boring into her, and there’s absolutely no misunderstanding when he says, “Mmm . . . Mama.” Miller’s face falls. “What did you say?” “Mama.” Max grins, so proud of himself for saying a name I now realize he’s been trying to say for weeks. “Mama! Mama!

And Ace,” he calls out. “Keep your dick in your pants. We all know how fucking fertile you are, and I’m too young and too goddamn attractive for someone to be calling me Grandpa.

When you’re home I don’t feel like I have to put on a show. I have a hard time with new people. I’m sure you know that by now. But with you, I can be myself, and that might seem like nothing to anyone else, but to me, it’s everything.

No. That’s not how this is going to go. When you’re with me, I want you exactly as you are. That includes letting people know just how fucking smart you are. You’re not going to cater to anyone’s toxic masculinity bullshit. You’re not going to be quiet and appeasing when you’re with me. If Ron, or anyone else for that matter, has an issue with you being smarter than him, then we’re going to have a far bigger problem than him thinking I’m not a good leader.

Indy, I’m not blind, but even if I were, I’m pretty sure I could touch your face and understand just how fucking stunning you are, but it’s not the first thing I see anymore.

I mean this in the nicest way possible, but Blue, you’re the most inconvenient thing that’s ever happened to me.

My home, my heart, all of it, is with you.

And you’re not an option, Stevie, because besides you, there’s no other choice.

But there’s no chance in hell I’m upgrading this. Stevie’s hands might drip in 24-karat gold after today, but this five-dollar beat-up ring is hers, and therefore it’s mine.

C’mon wife. Play along.

Loving you was two other surprises of my life.

This is the third book I’ve read this week and I couldn’t tell you what any of the heroes were supposed to look like because somewhere along the line, in my mind they all end up being 6’3”, with light brown skin, ocean eyes, and a particular knack for home organization.

I love you.” “I love you, Blue. So fucking much and I’ll fight for you forever, but I need you to fight for us too.

I’ve found her crying, laughing, or even crossing her legs during certain scenes, and it’s beyond endearing that the love between fictional characters can bring her so much joy.

I’m sorry someone let you believe you were hard to love, because, Blue, it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” I shake my head.

Grace means there is nothing we can do to make God love us more - and grace also means there is nothing we can do to make God love us less.

You’ve never gotten a say in your own life, and the last thing I’m going to do is take that away from you again. Every option is yours, Kenny. Whatever you want to do, I will be your biggest supporter. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t allow you the space to fulfill your goals, to live up to everything you’ve worked so hard for.

And wearing your hand around my throat like a necklace is my favorite piece of jewelry.

Read with me?”  “God.” My head falls back. “Talk dirty to me, why don’t you.

Do you think I’m a trainwreck, Ryan?” I huff a laugh. “You’re more like a cute little fender bender.

This is my favorite one, Stevie girl.” He allows me to spin the ring that’s lost all its shine. “Because it was yours, and you’re my favorite.

Get over here. I need all my girls together.

You think this is funny, kid? Your dad is making me go gray.

I bought us this house back in January.” Flipping to the last page of what I realize now is the deed, he points to the final line. “And if you don’t believe me, your name is right there.

Why do you like reading fiction so much?” he asks without a hint of judgment. “How else would you get to live a thousand lives in the span of only one? The beauty of fiction is that it makes you feel things on a visceral level. You can cry with those characters, laugh with them. It teaches you to look at another’s perspective, to have empathy. In nonfiction, you simply learn about something instead of feeling it.

Don’t you fucking dare.” My voice is as quiet as I can make it. “If you say anything, I will end you. Then I’ll marry your wife just to spite you, and your son will grow up calling me Daddy.”  “Oh, fuck you!” Maddison isn’t trying to be quiet at all. “Stevie, Zee wants you to be his date to a charity gala in Chicago, but he’s too chicken shit to ask and doesn’t think you’d want to go with him.”  “I fucking hate you. We are no longer friends.

But I spend a lot of your money.” “Someone needs to.” “And I’m messy. You don’t like messy.” “I like your mess.”  “And I’m needy. I have no idea how to be alone.” “Good. I don’t want you to be alone. I want you to be with me.”  His eyes fall to my throat, watching it work its way through a swallow.  “Come home with me, Blue.

I’m going to fucking destroy your body tonight and hopefully some of those insecurities that don’t make any goddamn sense right along with it.

decided. I’m going to bring some color into Ryan Shay’s life if it’s the last thing I do.

Hey, Zanders?” “Hmm?” “That’s what it feels like to be loved.

How the hell am I supposed to forget what her laugh sounds like? What her lips taste like?  I want her. Fuck, do I want her.

Being vulnerable and authentic is scary, man. Terrifying. But to the people who matter to you, the ones you’ve shown your true self to, they love you unconditionally. Why not let others love you unconditionally too? At least give them a chance to.

You said it was my choice if I wanted to live up to expectations, and I do. But now, the only expectations I'm going to worry about are the ones I set for myself. And the only expectations I have for myself are to be happy and to chase the things I want.

Every option is yours, Kenny. Whatever you want to do, I will be your biggest supporter. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t allow you the space to fulfill your goals, to live up to everything you’ve worked so hard for.

Numberless are the world's wonders, but none More wonderful than man; the storm gray sea Yields to his prows, the huge crests bear him high; Earth, holy and inexhaustible, is graven With shining furrows where his plows have gone Year after year, the timeless labor of stallions. The light-boned birds and beasts that cling to cover, The lithe fish lighting their reaches of dim water, All are taken, tamed in the net of his mind; The lion on the hill, the wild horse windy-maned, Resign to him; and his blunt yoke has broken The sultry shoulders of the mountain bull. Words also, and thought as rapid as air, He fashions to his good use; statecraft is his And his the skill that deflects the arrows of snow, The spears of winter rain: from every wind He has made himself secure--from all but one: In the late wind of death he cannot stand. O clear intelligence, force beyond all measure! O fate of man, working both good and evil! When the laws are kept, how proudly his city stands! When the laws are broken, what of his city then? Never may the anarchic man find rest at my hearth, Never be it said that my thoughts are his thoughts.

Pressure is a privilege, Miller. Expectations are high because you’re successful. If you were average, no one would be waiting on bated breath for you. I think about that every night I take the mound. You just have to decide if your dreams and goals are worth the pressure. If you want to live up to the expectations set for you.

Indy is not the type of woman you can simply flush from your system after a single night. She’s the kind to seep into your veins and rewire your brain, making you do and say things you swore you never would. Whether she believes it or not, Indigo Ivers is the type of woman you keep forever, and even though I can pretend to be her boyfriend, there’s no way in hell I could pretend that one night with her wouldn’t completely fuck me up.

Do you know how to flare your nostrils in anger?” My breakfast almost comes back up. “What?”  “If you see me across the room, talking to another man, I need you to stare intently then flare your nostrils. Or grind your molars together and tic your jaw.”  “Blue—” “Do you know how to growl?” “What?” “Yeah, I don’t really know what that’s supposed to sound like, but every one of my book boyfriends is big into growling. Oh! And can you darken your eyes?”  “Darken my eyes?” “Yeah. When you pretend to get angry or act really turned on, can you darken your eyes?

You know what,” Zanders continues. “I thought this was going to be a disaster, the two of you under the same roof, but you might be good for Ryan. Force him out of his shell. Make him spend time with someone who isn’t a teammate or his sister. Maybe having someone normal around will give him a little hope in humanity.

Ever hear the phrase ‘she’s not like other girls’?” He gives a small nod of his head. “Yeah, that’s not me. I’m just like every other chick. As basic as they come. I had an Uggs phase. I had a skinny jeans phase. I like my books with romance, my coffee with more creamer than caffeine, and I even take aesthetic pictures of my food anytime I’m at a restaurant.

If you’re going to start coming to my games, I better see Rhodes on your back and I’m not talking about my brother.”  “Is this some athlete kink you got? Need to see a girl in your jersey?” The old flirty side of me that I’ve kept hidden and locked down for the most part since Max came into my life is itching to break free.  I pop my shoulders. “I like to see pretty girls in my jersey. Like to take it off them too.”  Miller’s lips part, a shocked and satisfied grin lifting on the corners. “Well, with that kind of promise, I’ll be sure to wear it next time.

There are other avenues in life that are equally great and impressive. You don't need everyone to know your name for it to mean you're doing something great with your life. Trust me, when the right person knows your name, it's enough." He nudges his shoudler into me. "Or in your case when the right people know your name. Two to be exact. Kai and Max.

He steps forward, wiping his thumb across the corner of my lips to catch a rogue droplet of liquor. “You okay? You were so confident only a minute ago. You’re not going to gag, are you?”  I pop my shoulders. “Hopefully later.” He shakes his head—his typical move when I’ve said something that’s caught him off guard. “You flirting with me, Montgomery?”  “Have been since we met. You gonna start flirting back?

Mariah Carey’s “Obsessed” is blaring from all angles around me.  Kai barks a laugh from the bench, but other than him, no one questions his brother’s song choice. Instead, the entire stadium is bursting, singing along with the lyrics while Isaiah’s teammates are joining right in with their own karaoke renditions. Our wedding song is on full blast as Isaiah makes his way to the plate, but before he gets there, he turns back in my direction. With the entire stadium singing the song I walked down the aisle to, Isaiah extends his bat, points at me, and winks. He fucking winks. It’s the moment reality hits me… Miller was right. I think I might have a crush on my husband.

Don’t.” Ryan sits forward. “Don’t you dare cry.”  I suck in a breath, shaking my head and stopping any emotions before they really start. “Sorry. We’re at your work event.”  “Indy.” Both his large hands cup my face. “I don’t give a fuck where we are. You could cry all you want at this fundraiser. You could scream, laugh, throw a temper tantrum in front of these people for all I care. I don’t give a fuck, but you’re not crying over him, here or anywhere else.

It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. I cannot rest from travel; I will drink life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those that loved me, and alone; on shore, and when Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades Vexed the dim sea. I am become a name; For always roaming with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known---cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but honored of them all--- And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades Forever and forever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end. To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains; but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, my own Telemachus, To whom I leave the scepter and the isle--- Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill This labor, by slow prudence to make mild A rugged people, and through soft degrees Subdue them to the useful and the good. Most blameless is he, centered in the sphere Of common duties, decent not to fail In offices of tenderness, and pay Meet adoration to my household gods, When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail; There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners, Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me--- That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads---you and I are old; Old age hath yet his honor and his toil. Death closes all; but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with gods. The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends. 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; It may be that we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are--- One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.