“Ease my suffering. Make me the happiest, most tortured man in the world. Marry me?”

“I know I’m one royal screw up, and god knows there’s nothing I could ever do to deserve you,” he began, taking my hand in his after sliding the ring free from the chain. “But I want you, Lucy Larson. Bad. I want you forever. The kind of bad I have for you isn’t the kind that goes away.” His forehead lined, his eyes washing silver. “Ease my suffering. Make me the happiest, most tortured man in the world. Marry me?”

“Whoa,” a stunned voice said, whistling a row below me. “You’re the girl Jude Ryder’s going to marry and make baby superheroes with?”

“I love you, Jude.” …“And that makes me the luckiest bastard in the world.”

“I couldn't let anyone make me feel unworthy without my consent”

“My sense of teasing is completely lost on you.", Patrick said, hoisting himself back up. "It's a shame too. Most people tell me my sense of humor is my best quality, only outdone by my otherworldly good looks.”

“The first day of kindergarten when the little boy in a blue polo shirt had sat next to me and told me he’d be my friend when I couldn’t stop crying after my dad had dropped me off. The boy who’d brought me a tray of brownies, a stack of movies, and sat with me on the couch all week after I broke my leg in fifth grade. The boy who’d blushed whenever I talked to him or looked his way when we became teenagers. The same boy who made it his business to make sure all the other boys treated me right.”