“To be honest, I'm not sure about this whole scared of commitment business. I think it's become too handy, a useful phrase that men can bandy about whenever they feel like being assholes. And sure, I do believe there are some men who are genuinely terrified of commitment, but there aren't that many, and for the most part I think it's that they haven't met the right woman yet. Because if a man, no matter how scared he professed to be, met the woman of his dreams, he wouldn't want to let her go, would he? And sure, he might not want to actually get married, but if he were madly in love and risked losing her, he'd do it, wouldn't he?That's what I think, anyway.”

“He wouldn't let her work. You know, he was controlling. Some men are like that.' He gives me a quick sideways smily. 'Really? A controlling man, surely a mythical creature?' I don't think I can squeeze any more sarcasm into my response.”

“I'm not sure what I'm going to do."Lexi gasped. "You mean…""Look, I don't know what to do yet. I just knew that's what you wanted," he saying eyeing her mussed appearance."That's not what I wanted.""If it wasn't, you wouldn't have let me do it," he told her simply."I wanted answers.""And I don't have any.”

“Do you think Tess would wish me to try and find her? If not, of course - ''I don't think she would.''Are you sure?''I am sure she wouldn't.'He was turning away; and then he thought of Tess's tender letter.'I am sure she would!' he retorted passionaltely. 'I know her better than you do.''That's very likely, sir; for I have never really known her.”

“He pulled back, barely a fraction, but I knew he was hurt. Why was it so easy to do that these days? For both of us. He wouldn't want to talk about something, and I'de be hurt. Or I wouldn't want to talk about something, and he'd be hurt. Or he'd invite me along with the guys, and I'd analyze every nuance of his voice and expression, worrying that he really didn't want me along, was only being polite. Or, like the other night, I'd want to comfort him, but would be worried about how he might misinterpret that.It never used to be like this. Maybe that's just part of having a close friend of the opposite sex. As a kid, you don't think anything about it. Then you're a teenager, and you can't help but think about it.”

“Lincoln,” Sam had asked him on one of those nights, the summer before their senior year, “do you think we’ll get married some day?”“I hope so,” he’d whispered. He didn’t usually think about it like that, like “married.” He thought about how he never wanted to be without her. About how happy she made him and how he wanted to go on being that happy for the rest of his life. If a wedding could promise him that, he definitely wanted to get married.“Wouldn’t it be romantic,” she said, “to marry your high school sweetheart? When people ask us how we met I’ll say, ‘We met in high school. I saw him, and I just knew.’ And they’ll say, ‘Didn’t youever wonder what it would be like to be with someone else?”