She knew quite certainly that her parents had never felt love, no matter the stories they liked to tell about the way they met. Oh, they loved each other well enough, but it was a safe, old-person’s love, the sort expressed in shoulder rubs and endless cups of tea. No—Laurel sighed heatedly. It was safe to say that neither had ever known the other sort of love, the sort with fireworks and racing hearts and physical—she blushed—desires.
