She realized it wasn’t about the wedding; it was about the marriage. Her. Him. Together. She got married barefoot because all she cared about was him. That guy. And the throw-up shoes weren’t going to stop that from happening.

Love is messy, painful and emotionally draining. It hardly seems worth it.

Dark chocolate was supposed to be good for you, right?

It wasn’t sweet and tentative, it was pure carnal frustration spiked with incomprehensible lust and rolled into a giant ball of please-god-let-me-live-in-this-man’s-mouth-for-the-foreseeable-future.

She was always calm under pressure, always the cucumber when everything else was jalapenos.

I had the life I wanted. And I wasn’t afraid to say no to somthing more.

Dressed in black pants, a white button-down, and a leather jacket, he was sophisticated but cool. A man about town, a globetrotter, a secret cat whisperer who would sell his soul for an apple pie. And he was mine.

I liked my environment clean. Neat. Orderly. Hospital corners? Yes, please. Can labels showing to the front? Thank you kindly. How else could you see what’s in the can?

You’ve never heard me do a number of things, Vivian. You have no idea what I might sound like.

I was harder to pin down, but I knew him when I saw him. Like the Supreme Court and pornography, I was aware.