I won't lie. Walking into a room and seeing your girlfriend reading a baby-name book can kind of make your heart stop.

Because I’ve got a lot more terms of endearment to use. Honey pie. Sugarplum. Bread pudding," “Why are they all high-calorie foods?

It's like living in a retirement home! Clarence is taking a nap right now, and he eats at five. It's so boring." "You've only been here for two days." "And that's been more than enough. The only thing keeping me alive is that he keeps a hefty supply of liquor on hand. But at the rate I'm going, that'll be gone by the weekend. Jesus Christ, I'm climbing the walls." His eyes fell on the cross at my neck. "Oh. Sorry. No offense to Jesus.

I had no reason to get all goofy, just because the man was too good-looking for his own good.

Love is . . .” An old memory with Adrian came back to me, and some of the turbulent emotion I always carried within me these days welled up in my chest. It was stupid, feeling so lovesick when he’d been gone less than a day, but I couldn’t get him or the ways he described love out of my head. “. . . a flame in the dark. A breath of warmth on a winter’s night. A star that guides you home.

Sydney, this is the kind of shirt that says, ‘You’re never getting in here.

He was hiding from his problems in a bottle, something that went against every piece of my nature. Me? I couldnʹt let my problems win without a fight.