Book Lovers

by Emily Henry

How amazing it is to be a part of this, to get to share this place with all these people.

“Until you got here,” he rasps, “all this place had ever been was a reminder of the ways I was a disappointment, and now you’re here, and—I don’t know. I feel like I’m okay. So if you’re the ‘wrong kind of woman,’ then I’m the wrong kind of man.”

Some books you don’t read so much as live, and finishing one of those always makes me think of ascending from a scuba dive. Like if I surface too fast I might get the bends.

“For anyone who wants it all,” she begins, “may you find something that is more than enough.” She wonders whether what comes next could ever live up to the expectations. She doesn’t know. You never can. She turns the page anyway.