“And I’m yours,” I tell him. “Forever and always and then some.”
“I’ll always be here, Luce. I’m yours,” he breathed, squeezing my hands, “forever.”
“...I’m not going anywhere. Remember, I promised. I’m yours now, forever.”
“I’m going to break one of the rules of the trade here. I’m going to tell you some of the secrets of improvisation. Just remember—it’s always a good idea to follow the directions exactly the first time you try a recipe. But from then on, you’re on your own.”
“Who gives a shit what everyone thinks?” he said. I see now that this has long been some sort of mantra for him. I've never been that free. I want to be, and sometimes I pretend to be, but I’m not. I’m forever chained to giving a shit about what someone thinks.”
“Forever and ever Bonnie, I will always be your friend.”