“She’s not just a Porsche. She’s a Porsche nine-one-one GT-three.There’s a difference.Let me guess, it’s the love of your life?” I said, quoting Travis’statement about his motorcycle.“No, it’s a car. The love of my life will be a woman with my last name.”

“Let me guess, it's the love of your life?" I said quoting Travis' statement about his motorcycle."No, it's a car. The love of my life will be a women with my last name.”

“No, it’s a car. The love of my life will be a woman with my last name.”

“It’s a Harley Night Rod. She’s the love of my life, so don’t scratch the paint when you get on.”

“That’s not true. I love you more than my life, Pigeon,” he said, hurt.“That’s exactly what I mean. That’s crazy talk.”“It’s not crazy. It’s the truth.”

“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.”

“What is that?” I asked, squinting at the vertical symbols.“It’s Hebrew,” Travis smiled.“What does it mean?”“It says, ‘I belong to my beloved, and my beloved is mine.”My eyes darted to his. “You weren’t happy with just one tattoo, you had to get two?”“It’s something I always said I would do when I met The One. I met you…I went and got the tats.” His smile faded when he saw my expression. “You’re pissed, aren’t you?” he said, pulling his shirt down.”