My Parents Never Said It. They Thought

I Had Learned That There Were Substitutes For A Mother Who Couldn't Be A Mother. You Could Find Love With Other People. You Could Find It In Places You Weren't Even Looking. But The Original Wound Would Never Heal. I Would Carry It With Me Forever, And So Would Tara. That Was The Trick . . . Accepting It, Going On With Your Life, Knowing It Was Part Of You.

Bad Divorce?" Hardy Asked, His Gaze Falling To My Hands. I Realized I Was Clutching My Purse In A Death Grip. “no, The Divorce Was Great,” I Said. “it Was The Marriage That Sucked.

I Scowled Defensively. "my Conversations Don't Usually Include The Subject Of Erections." "too Bad," He Said. "all The Best Conversations Do.

It Was Finally Becoming Clear To Her That Love Wasn't About Finding Someone Perfect To Marry. Love Was About Seeing Through To The Truth Of A Person, And Accepting All Their Shades Of Light And Dark. Love Was An Ability.

If Loneliness Was A Choice, What Was The Other Option? To Settle For Second-best And Try To Be Happy With That? And Was That Fair To The Person You Settled For?