Jillian

“Livia held her spatula as Blake whispered in her ear. “I see us just like this a hundred years from now, old and deaf. I’ll be the luckiest man.”
Emotion caught her—this was all she wanted. Simple, beautiful frittata moments with this man.
“Someday, Livia, I’ll be man enough to buy the food,” he continued. “I’ll give you an oven. I’ll try so hard.”
― Debra Anastasia, Poughkeepsie

“He kept his head down in what seemed to be a prayer. “He counts. You’ve smiled at him four hundred and forty-six times as of a few minutes ago. He announces the number every time I see him.”
― Debra Anastasia, Poughkeepsie

“You're beautiful, but you're empty...One couldn't die for you. Of course, an ordinary passerby would think my rose looked just like you. But my rose, all on her own, is more important than all of you together, since she's the one I've watered. Since she's the one I put under glass, since she's the one I sheltered behind the screen. Since she's the one for whom I killed the caterpillars (except the two or three butterflies). Since she's the one I listened to when she complained, or when she boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing at all. Since she's my rose.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

“He moved to her earlobe and breathed, “First, I will blow, then I will lick, last I will bite.” Blake took his time blowing an elaborate pattern on her stomach, and Livia was pretty sure he’d spelled the word torture.”
― Debra Anastasia, Poughkeepsie