Book Lovers

I kiss him then, like there isn’t someone reading one of the Bridgerton novels five feet away, like we’ve just found each other on a deserted island after months apart.

Dads, as a concept, have always felt as irrelevant to my daily life as astronauts. I know they’re out there, but I rarely think about them. Suddenly, though, I can almost imagine it. I can almost miss it, this thing I never had.

For the first time in my life, I know what the hell Cathy was talking about when she said I am Heathcliff.

“It means,” he says, eyes glinting, “you’ll have to do better than that.” I smile despite myself, hope thrashing around in my belly like a very determined baby bird with a broken wing. “I’ll expect notes by Friday,” he says.

I guide them across the grass, away from Libby and Brendan so they can have a second alone. Brendan looks like he could use a few years in a cryogenic chamber, whereas Libby is grabbing his ass like that is not at all what she needs.

“Joke’s on you, because I haven’t slept over at a man’s apartment in like ten years.” Charlie’s eyes glint, another lightning strike across the dark clouds of his face. “I am desperate for more information.” “I have an intense nighttime skin care routine. I don’t like to miss it, and it doesn’t all fit in a handbag.” My mom used to say, You can’t c

Maybe it’s possible to belong in a hundred different ways to a hundred different people and places.

I tuck my phone into my sweatpants’ pocket and nudge open my bathroom door to start my ten-step skin care routine (also known as the best forty-five minutes of my day).

“And all those people who made you feel like you were,” he says huskily, “have fucking terrible taste.”