“I don’t want to date her; I just want to be around her. She’s…different.”“Different how?” America asked, sounding irritated.“She doesn’t put up with my bullshit, it’s refreshing. You said it yourself, Mare. I’m not her type. It’s just not…like that with us.”“You’re closer to her type than you know,” America said.”

“Don't even think about it, Travis. She's like my sister," America warned."Baby," Shepley said, "you just told him no. He's never gonna stop, now.""You're not her type," she hedged. Travis feigned offense. "I'm everyone's type!"I peeked over at him and smiled. "Ah! A smile. I'm not a rotten bastard after all.”

“You should have asked her first, Trav," America said, shaking her head and covering her mouth with her fingers. "Asked her what? If I could get a tattoo?" he frowned, turning to me. "I love you. I want everyone to know I'm yours. I shifted nervously. "That's permanent, Travis." "So are we," he said, touching my cheek.”

“I wanted to sleep with you. I thought about throwing you over my couch fifty different ways, but I haven’t because I don’t see you that way anymore. It’s not that I’m not attracted to you, I just think you’re better than that.”

“I don’t want her,” he said, staring at my lips. “I’m just so fucking unhappy, Pigeon.”

“Hello?” he said, waiting out the shrill stream on the other end of the line. He smiled, “Because I’m her husband. I can answer her phone, now.” He glanced at me, and then shoved open the cab door, offering his hand. “We’re at the airport, America. Why don’t you and Shep pick us up and you can yell at us both on the way home? Yes, the whole way home. We should arrive around three. All right, Mare. See you then.” He winced with her sharp words and then handed me the phone. “You weren’t kidding. She’s pissed.”

“I'll see you tomorrow, Mare. You know you want to see my ring.""And your tat," she said, a smile in her voice.”