“You’d rather read about a caveman, huh?” She grinned wickedly, and it must have been a mirror of my earlier grin. “Remind me when we get back home, and I’ll let you borrow my copy of Priscilla’s Neanderthal.” “I didn’t say I wanted to read a caveman book. I also didn’t say I liked that sort of thing.” In truth, the romance novel depressed me because it reminded me of what I didn’t have—someone wholly devoted to me.
