Like magic, she felt him getting nearer, felt it like a pull in the pit of her stomach. It felt like hunger but deeper, heavier. Like the best kind of expectation. Ice cream expectation. Chocolate expectation.

We're connected, as women. It's like a spiderweb. If one part of that web vibrates, if there's trouble, we all know it, but most of the time we're just too scared, or selfish, or insecure to help. But if we don't help each other, who will?

Her life was monotonous, but it kept her out of trouble. . . . This, her father would say, was called being an adult.

Watching them, she realized they made so much sense together. Every look, every touch, was a reassurance, almost electric, as if they were shocking each other with every contact.

Willa?" "Yes" "It's morning and I still love you.

He'd always been fascinated by her, drawn to her the way curious people are always drawn to things they don't understand.

It was like the way you wanted sunshine on Saturdays, or pancakes for breakfast. They just made you feel good.