“She seemed pissed about something, but I ignored it. She probably just wasn’t a morning person. Although with that logic, she wasn’t really an afternoon or night person, either. Come to think of it, she was kind of a cranky bitch . . . and I liked it.”

“What do you think?” she asked, pouting her lips attempting to imitate a model . . . or a duck. I wasn’t sure which.”

“I thought about my mother, and the words she said to me almost a lifetime ago. That’s when it clicked: she had asked me not to settle, to fight for the person I loved, and for the first time, I did what she expected of me. I had finally lived up to who she wanted me to be.”

“I knew the second I met youthat there was something about you I needed. Turns out it wasn’t something about you at all. It was just you.”

“She ripped the wild bun down from the crown of her head, and then brushed her long hair with her fingers. I couldn’t stop staring while she rewrapped it and tied it back again. I imagined that this was what she looked like in the morning, and then had to think about the first ten minutes of Saving Private Ryan to keep my dick from getting hard.”

“I wasn’t mad at you. I just have a bad habit of lashing out at those I care about. It’s a piss poor excuse, I know, but I am sorry,” he said, enveloping me in his arms.”

“She's going to be there.Showing up would be a mistake.It would be awkward.She's going to be there.What if someone asks her to dance?What if she meets her future husband and I'm there to witness it?She doesn't want to see me.I might get drunk and do something to piss her off.She might get drunk and do something to piss me off.I shouldn't go.I had to go. She was going to be there.”