“I hate you," I muttered.Noah smiled wider. "I know.”

“There's a girl, Dad."He smiled a bit. "A girl.""She kinda hates me, and I kinda...""Love her?""I don't know. I don't think so. I mean...how do you know?"His smile grew wider. "When you're talking about her with your old dad because you don't know what else to do.”

“I hate that stuff. It tastes like feet."At that he smiled. "How would you know what feet taste like?""I just know.”

“When my phone rings, I pull it out and check the screen. It says simply, “Olivia.” I smile wider.”

“I wish I could hate you," he said. His voice was light, his mouth curved in an unconcerned half smile, his eyes sick with misery. "I want to hate you. I try to hate you. It would be so much easier if I did hate you. Sometimes I do hate you and then I see you and I...”

“Your hair is ridiculous,' I say. 'And I love you.' I'm surprised how easily the words come out.'My hair is ridiculous.' Charlie smiles even wider and says, just as easily, 'And I love you too.”