Eric,” she said, “maybe someday one of the waitresses will get pregnant, and we can go to a baby shower!” “That would be something to see,” said Eric

I love him," I said, but even to my own ears I didn't sound happy about it.

My gran had always told me that a woman--any woman worth her salt--could do whatever she had to.

Don’t you just hate nights like that, when you think over every mistake you’ve made, every hurt you’ve received, every bit of meanness you’ve dealt out? There’s no profit in it, no point to it, and you need sleep.

This was an unpleasant trend. I didn’t want a lot of guys popping in and out of my bedroom. I wanted one who would stay.

Could I tell them I was sorry their loved one was dead, when he’d tried to kill me? There was no rule of etiquette for this; even my grandmother would have been stymied.

A dog – a collie – went up to Eric, looked up at his face, and growled. “Shoo,” Eric said, making an imperious gesture with his hand.