Savor the Moment

The polite thing would be to go back inside, give you privacy when you read it. But, I’m just not that mature.' 'It’s nothing. Fine.' Feeling foolish, Laurel opened the envelope. You might think this is over, but you’d be wrong. I’ve taken your shoes hostage. Contact me within forty-eight hours, or the Pradas get it.

He gave her a quick, casual kiss on the cheek first. Then came the hug, and it was the hug that always made Laurel’s heart mush. Serious grip, cheek to the hair, eyes closed, just a little sway. Del’s hugs mattered, she thought, and made him impossible to resist.

Laurel: I don't need a ring or a license, or a spetacular white dress. It's not marriage so much, or at all really, that matters. It's the promise. It's the knowing someone wants me to be part of his life. Someone loves me, that I'm the one for him. That's not just enough, it's everything.

And since I’m marrying into the Quartet, I have certain privileges and duties. If you’re sleeping with Laurel—” “I’m not sleeping with Laurel. We’re dating.” “Right, and the two of you are just going to hold hands, admire the moon, and sing camp songs.” “For a while. Minus the singing.

Laurel’s in right field, leading off. Her fielding’s crap, but she’s got a good bat.” “My fielding is not crap.” She hit Del with the glove. “Keep it up and you’re not going to have any problem winning that beat, Brown.” When she stalked off, Mal took an easy, testing swing. “What bet?” Laurel strode straight up to Mac. “I want to switch with you. I want to play on Jack’s team.” “Baseball slut. Okay by me, but you’d better tell Jack.” She walked over to where Jack sat on the ground writing his lineup. “I switched with Mac. I’m on your team.” “Trading the redhead for the blonde. Okay, let me figure… You’re right field, leading off.” Son of a bitch. Did he and Del have telepathy? Laurel narrowed her eyes. “Why right field?” He flicked her a glance, and she saw him reconsider his response. “You’ve got a strong arm.” She pointed at him. “Good answer.” “How come you… Hey. Hey, is that Mal? Del hooked Mal?” Jack barred his teeth. “So that’s the way he wants to play the game?” “Let’s kick his ass.

There.” She tossed her hair back while he stared at her. “The sky did not fall, the world did not end, neither of us was struck by lightning or beamed straight to hell. I’m not your damn sister, Delaney. That ought to make it clear.

It's hard loving someone more than they love you, and it's something I have to deal with.

You changed what was between us. You took the step, and I didn't see it coming. I can't be sorry for that when I'm so damn grateful for it. I don't know if you were always the one," he said again. "But I know you're the one now, and I know you're going to be the one tomorrow, and next month, next year. And you're going to be the one for the rest of my life.

They'd look attractive together because they're both attractive. That's not the same thing as right.

Love,' she murmured as she washed. 'Nobody inside it knows the hell how to handle it.

We're going to be rich. Huh? Forgot. You're already rich. I'm going to be rich, and you'll be richer okay I'm serious. We've just discover a non-fail motivation for exercise. Hot jungle sex. We'll be Bill Gates rich. We'll write a book. There'll be DVDs and infomercials. America, then the world, will become buff and sexually satisfied. And they'll have us to thank.

Continuity, he thought, wasn't the same as stagnation.

People have their reasons for the damnedest things in my experience.

No sooner looked but they loved.

Mrs. G: But marriage? I had mine. I had my Charlie. My one. Laurel: Do you believe that? That there's one person? One? Mrs. G: I do, for some of us. For others, if things don't work, or you lose someone, there's another. But for some there's the one, beginning to end. No one else can fit. No one else gets into the heart the same way, and lives there.

missed that? “Del, don’t—” “Stop arguing.” He just grabbed her hand and

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers; Of April, May, of June, and July flowers. I sing of Maypoles, Hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes. —ROBERT HERRICK