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Kindle Notes & Highlights
He simply suffers from an extreme case of handsomeness.
He could read the phone book and make it sound like foreplay, which means everything he says makes you feel like a cat in mating season, even if he’s talking about changing the toner in the copy machine. I’d probably have a dirty dream about toner if he did.
A thick head of soft and wavy light brown hair, cheekbones carved by the gods, eyes that inspire dreams of tropical waters, a body handcrafted by his own rigid discipline, and a brain shaped and chiseled by Stanford.
“You’d be a Good Samaritan of orgasms, then?” “Perhaps it’s my true calling,” he says, in a completely serious tone. “Patron Saint of the Big O?” He snaps his fingers and points at me. “Yes. That’ll go on my new business cards. Maybe I’ll even make house calls to administer my special brand of medicine.”
“Want to know the biggest post-sex pet peeve of all?” All the men raise their faces. Eager acolytes. “Asking her if she came. Because if you can’t figure out whether she took a trip to the stars or not, then guess what the answer is.”
But life is a string of uncomfortable moments, and our job as adults is to navigate through them with the least harm and most love.
Holy shit, when did inhaling air become so hard? Oh, right. When I had the harebrained idea to ask my coworker for a cup of baby batter.
“I’m asking you for DNA, and you’re asking me to go on ten test dates?” she says, laughing. “The answer, obviously, is yes.”
Don’t settle for ordinary kisses. Kisses are the sustenance of love. They will feed you.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting something. So often we think we need to temper our hope so we’re prepared for bad news. Guess what? Bad news hurts whether you’re prepared for it or not. There’s nothing wrong with hoping for the best.”
He wears dark jeans that fit him so damn well I bet they gossip to other jeans about how good it feels to hug his legs.
The doctor leaves us alone, and I bend my face to her belly and press the gentlest kiss to her skin. “Hi, baby,” I say, and I know, I fucking know, that I’m already in love with our child.
My chest hurts. My heart literally fucking aches. I want to grab her shoulders, stare into her eyes, and ask her to be mine for-fucking-ever.
