“You can’t leave me,” he whispered thickly, fumbling blindly for her hand and taking it in his. “Can you hear me? You… — Kate McCarthy Copy Share Image
“Lauren," he began gravely, "I would like four daughters with wobbly blue eyes and studious horn-rimmed glasses on their little noses. Also,… — Judith McNaught Copy Share Image
“Don’t cry, baby. I’m sorry.” She pressed her lips together. “Smile, okay? You’ll be gone in a little over a week and… — Kate McCarthy Copy Share Image
