“I have your word?”“You trust my word?”“You’re an idealistic fool. Of course.”

“If I can't trust your word, I can't trust you.”

“Words are important to me. I listen to each one, weigh and measure it. If I cannot trust your words, how can I trust you?”

“I love you, Desdemona.”“I know,” she whispered. “You don’t have to say the words.”He smiled slowly. “Trust me, you’re going to hear them every day for the rest of our lives.”

“ONE MORE CHNCE. Words that my mother heard, more than once. Words that women debate. Whether you CAN forgive and whether you SHOULD trust. I think of all the judgment from society, friends, and family, the overwhelming consensus seeming to be that you should not grant someone who betrayed you a second chance. That you should do everything you can to keep the knife out of your back, and to protect your heart and pride. Cowards give second chances. Fools give second chances. And I am no coward, no fool.”

“You and I certainly had out issues, Cooper. But I never, for a moment, doubted that you could be trusted. My father told me once that your word was good amber. I have no reason to believe otherwise.”