Sometimes April worried that she'd been built without some fundamental piece that everyone else had that just let them deal. Even her mother, who got involved in every lefty cause she could, seemed to...
She had made a choice and then she had made another and another after that. Taken together, the small choices anyone made added up to a life.
Now she saw that marriage was like being in a three-legged race with the same person for the rest of your life. Your hopes, your happiness, your luck, your moods, all yoked to his.
No one can ever know the inner parts of anyone else’s marriage. It’s a strange business.
A child had no choice but to forgive.
Awake. James would force himself to close his eyes. For the next few hours, he’d lie there, thrashing around, trying to get comfortable. By morning,
This was the hardest part about a marriage, or a relationship like theirs: your hopes and your fears and your happiness hinged on someone else. When you stopped thinking that they ought to, you ended...
Think of a marriage, husband and wife. The piece of paper, the white wedding dress, they don't promise anything. A person has to stay there, fight for it, every day.
It was so nice to be on the cusp of parenthood, to be able to judge other people's choices with confidence, not yet having made any mistakes of their own.