" Three months ago she’d been in Los Angeles. Her husband had walked into their tiny bathroom while she’d been brushing her teeth and had announced he was leaving her for another woman. He was in love and he was leaving. What Jenna remembered most was standing in that cramped space wondering when she was supposed to spit. At what point in that kind of confession was it polite or expected for her to lean over the sink, spit and rinse? "

― Susan Mallery , Already Home