How would you feel about sharing your bed?" she asked. Tristan blinked. "Excuse me?" "He'd love to!" Gary said. Tristan shot him a look, "Good," said Ivy, failing to notice Gary's wink. "Ella can be a pillow hog, but all you have to do is roll over her.

Her joy with him was like nothing she had ever experienced. His love for her felt like a miracle.

This isn't a game for me. I love you, Ivy, and one day you're going to believe me.

Fix yourself something to drink," she said. "I don't have any Mr. Pepper." "You mean Dr. Pepper?" "For the love of God!" She exploded. "People expect everything from a psychic! 'Doctor,' 'mister,' I was close enough. I didn't call it 'Mrs. Salt,' did I?

How would you feel about sharing your bed?" she asked. Tristan blinked. "Excuse me?" "He'd love to!" Gary said. Tristan shot him a look, "Good," said Ivy, failing to notice Gary's wink. "Ella can be a pillow hog, but all you have to do is roll over her.

Sometimes I think that love is one big fairy tale. I wonder if people who say they are in love, if – really – they’ve just talked themselves into it. They want it so badly, they kind of make it happen. They fake it until they start believing their own story. Maybe that’s just sour grapes or something. Maybe because it doesn’t happen to me, I don’t want to think it happens to anyone else.

What do you do with your anger when the person you're mad at goes off and dies? Bury it? Bury it inside you?