“Make poverty, sickness, and death central issues in the contract," he says, "it's no wonder the divorce rate is fifty percent.”

“1."Ahem. I know you hate Mondays, madam, but you picked the absolutely wrong one to play hooky. Or be sick. Yes, I suppose it's vaguely possible that you are actually sick. Anyway, here we are at lunch, Sadie and I, witnessing total social disorder. Your friend Alexander Bainbridge is sitting at the usual table, but facing the room. Amanda Alstead is sitting at Table One. Or, should I say,sitting more or less on a Phillite senior boy, whose name is unimportant, at Table One. A very nice young lady at the next table over-you know, the one who writes about Mr. Darcy-has just informeed us that Amanda dumpled Alex over the break. On Thanksgiving Day,no less. By e-mail. No telling how much truth is there, but a lot more than a kernal, I would say. We have a large, seven-dollar bag o' movie popcorn here. Thought you'd like to know. Call me.”

“We'd reached the parking lot. Alex stopped. "You drive to school?" I demanded.He gestured me ahead of him through the break in the chain fence. "We don't all live five blocks away," he shot back."It's eight, actually.""Fine,eight. And sometimes I walk."I pictured the stretch between Willing and Society Hill, where I knew he lived somewhere near Sadie. It was quite a distance, and not a particularly scenic one, especially at seven thirty in the morning. "Yeah? When was the last time?"He didn't answer immediately, leading the way now between the parked cars. He passed a big Jeep that still had its dealer plates, a low-slung-two-door Lexus, and a sick black BMW that all looked like just the sort of cars he would own. "April of last year," he admitted finally. "But it pissed rain on me the whole time, so that's gotta count for something." He stopped by the dented passenger door of an old green Mustang. "Your carriage, my lady.""Really? This is your car?"The door made a very scary sound when he opened it. "It's clean," he snapped, and I realized he'd totally missed my point."It's amazing.”

“I'll tell you this,though, Frankie makes me happy. So does Sadie. I don't want to canoodle with either of them, but I love them to death.""Must you use those words in my presence?""Sorry.But.Truth:You are dead as the spat."Edward sighed. "You're right.You're absolutely right. So I suppose you'd best go to sleep, darling Ella. It's late. And,as was famously said, 'tomorrow-'""-is another day? Thank you, Scarlett O'Hara.""Actually-" -he scowled at me- "I was going to say, 'Tomorrow comes. Tomorrow brings, tomorrow brings love, in the shape of things.'""Shakespeare?" I asked."Queen," he shot back. "Not nearly as good as 'Bohemian Rhapsody' or 'Fat Bottomed Girls,' but certainly poetic.""Good night, Edward.""Good night, lovely girl."I turned off the light and climbed into bed. "Oh.By the way.""Yes?""I think I figured out why you called Diana all those nicknames. 'Spring,' 'Cab,' 'Post'...""Yes?""They're all things you wait for. I think Diana was making you wait, and it was making you crazy. Am I right?""Oh,Ella. You know I can't tell you that. I will,however, leave you with one more lovely old chestnut-""'All good things are worth waiting for?'""I really wish you would let me finish a thought tonight. I was going to say, 'Ain't nothing like the real thing, baby.'""Marvin Gaye," I said."The one and only.”

“It's pierogis. From Svichkar's. Probably cold. It seemed...Oh,crap. It was a really stupid thing to bring, wasn't it? My mother just has this thing about never arriving empty-handed."I tugged the bag out of his hands. "It's perfect. Merci beaucoup, Monsieur Bainbridge.""Je t'en prie, Mademoiselle Marino."Okay, so it's just the semiformal way to say "You're welcome" in French, but anyone who says Italian is the language of romance is probably Italian.”

“Forty percent off. Come on, Ella, it's a sign.""Yeah. 'Stop.'" I took the sweater from his hands and holded it neatly into thirds. "Truth or Truth?"He propped a hip on the edge of the display table. "Shoot.""WHo are you dressing me for? I mean, really? The three nonrelated men playing any part whatsoever in my life right now are, and I will use your terms here, the spawn of Society Hell, dead as the spat, and queer as a football bat.""Very poetic.""Bite me.""Wrong man," Frankie drawled. "That would be the inclination of the hell spawn."I bared my teeth. "So,who,Frankie? Who is this for?" I waved the sweater. "I just don't get it.""I know,Grasshopper," he said sadly, "I know."I blinked at him. "Where-" That's as far as I got. Sadie had come out of the dressing room.”

“Look, Ella..." He stared down at his hands, opening and closing his fists. I waited.I think we might have a little bit of a misunderstanding here...You're a nice girl and all,but...I really like you,but I don't really like you...The unmistakable notes of "Don't Stop Believin'," electronic version, suddenly filled my room, followed by the audible and visual treat of my phone vibrating its way across my desk toward Alex's hip. I flung myself on it. In a clear-headed moment, I would have just turned it off. As it was, I did manage a "Sorry!" to Alex before flipping it open/"Are you dead?" Frankie demanded from the other end."No." I edged away from Alex, who was very politely pretending to be interested in the biscotti."Are you even sick?""No," I admitted."Of course not. Okay, I'm coming over.""No!" I cringed as Alex jumped a little. I took a breath. "God, no. Don't. It's wedding central here. Sienna will have you trying up birdseed in little purple pouches."There was a long pause. "You okay, Marino?""Yeah," I managed."Truth time.Where were you today?"Could I do it? Could I actually use the word cramps with Alex Bainbridge standing three feet away? I could only imagine how the actual truth would sound. Here, in bed, hiding because I thought I'd made the queen of all fools out of myself e-mailing Alex Bainbridge over the break, and I can't even tell you about it because I promised...But it's okay-or maybe not-because he's here now, in my bedroom. ust about to tell me I made the queen of all fools out of myself. Sure. Come on over.The two of you can bond over my idiocy.”