“Still everyone, including the abbot, had said that he was running away from his grief. They'd had no idea what they were talking about. He'd cradled his grief, almost to the point of loving it. For so long he refused to give it up, because leaving it behind was like leaving her.”

“She said nothing, refusing to meet his gaze. After a long moment, he released her.“So that’s the way it is, then.” His words were not a question. The door closed quietly behind him, leaving her cold to the bone, hollowed out and empty. Leaving her alone. Just like always.”

“She'd been prepared for him to say he was too old, she must put away that sweet but impractical idea, they would forget all about it and go back to being good friends. She had almost hoped he would say that; it would forestall the complication and entanglement, yet leave her with a grief to harbor, sad but tender, grief like a secret, soothing companion. But this! There was nothing soothing about this.”

“They were talking about things that didn’t matter a fig, not with the huge yawning grief burning a hole in his chest because of what had happened to her. To Josie. His Josie, now.”

“He shrugged his shoulders, like he had no idea what I was talking about. I loved that.”

“He had a smug smile on his lips like he knew, even in his sleep, that women all around him were dying from love because he'd taken their hearts and hidden them where they'd never find them.”