“The kind of bad I have for you isn't the kind that goes away.”

“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?”

“For me, coffee was kind of like pizza-even when you got a bad piece, it was still pretty good.”

“I’m cancer, Luce. And not the kind that you can kill off with radiation. The kind that kills you in the end.”

“I also knew you wouldn’t stop your staring until you learned the cold, hard truth. So, consider yourself warned. I might not be the kind of guy that reads textbooks at the beach,” he said, glancing back at my open book, “but I’m smart enough to know girls like you should stay away from guys like me. So stay away.”

“You might belong to someone else, but you kind of belong to me, too.”

“As I'd discovered this week, Jude was every kind of mystery that appealed to a woman and every kind she could never unveil. He was every enigma to which I wanted the answer to.”