I don't love you anymore", she whispered. "I don't love you at all." His throat closed. "It's all right, sweetheart. I love you enough for both of us.

When male authors write love stories, the heroine tends to end up dead.

You try spending six months sitting at somebody's bedside, waiting for them to die and then tell me that the happy-ending love story isn't one of God's good gifts.

Pride had kept her running when love had betrayed her.

Thanks to April,” she whispered, “you have the wedding you’ve dreamed about ever since you were a little girl.”Dean’s boom of laughter was one more reason she loved this man with all her heart.

Was there some basic flaw in her makeup that made her keep falling in love with this man who couldn’t love her back?

She was kind of crying, too, because she liked happy endings. Then she realized it wasn't an ending at all. As she gazed around at all these people she loved, she knew that everybody here was just getting started.

He tunneled his dirty hands through her hair and kissed her breathless. Her neck, her eyes, the corners of her mouth. He kissed her lips as if his life depended on it. Kissed their future into her. All they could have and all they could be.

He could deal with his guilt all by himself. Guilt didn't add up to love, an emotion she was done with forever.