“And after his unparsable response, including a passage where he said he was 'blurring the boundaries between a thing and thought,' she said, 'Thank you, I get lost sometimes,' while laying two fingers on his folded arm.”

“I'd said thank you. And apologized. It was more than I thought I'd ever do. "You're welcome," he said, his expression lost in the shadows. "I'll see what I can do about the no lying... thing." And inclining his head, he vanished.”

“His eyes searched mine. "Thank you." "For What?" I loved the feel of his arms around me and how I fit against him, hard against soft. He trailed his fingers over my arm, and I was amazed by how he could make me shiver. "For everything," he said.”

“Are you lost?"I turned around. "Excuse me?"Two guys were sprawled on a bench close to the sidewalk. The one who had spoken wore tattered shorts and a colonial three-cornered hat-nothing else. He had wide shoulders and long, muscular legs. He stretched dramatically, then lay his tanned arm along the back of the bench. "You look lost," he said. "Can I help you find something?""Uh, no, thanks. I was just looking."He grinned. "Me too.""Oh?" I glanced around, thinking I'd missed something. "At what?"He and his friend burst out laughing. Way to go, Lauren, I thought. He had been looking at me!”

“I was crying for joy, my Sassenach,' he said softly. He reached out slowly and took my face between his hands. "And thanking God that I have two hands. That I have two hands to hold you with. To serve you with, to love you with. Thanking God that I am a whole man still, because of you.”

“After a while I murmured to Picasso that I liked his portrait of Gertrude Stein. Yes, he said, everybody says that she does not look like it but that does not make any difference, she will, he said.”