“Uncle Drew?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Where do babies come from?”
“Falling in love is easy, staying in love is hard. Dedicated to all those who have stayed in love.”
“He yells, "I want any part of you that you’re willing to give me!"
We both fall quiet. Breathing hard. Staring each other down.
And his voice drops low. Defeated. "I’ll take anything, Kate.
Just . . . don’t tell me it’s over. I won’t accept that.”
“For you guys out there who think looking doesn’t hurt? You’re wrong. Because we women don’t think you’re just enjoying the view. We think you’re comparing, finding us lacking. And that stings. Like a paper cut on your eyeball.”
“You said we’re fighting over nothing, and we’re fighting about how you made me feel—so that means you think my feelings are nothing!” his mouth opens, like a fish searching for oxygen.”
“Self-doubts are like weeds; if you don't deal with them right away, they multiply. And before you know it, your garden looks like a jungle in Vietnam.”
“forgiveness is selfish. We give it not because it’s earned, but because it’s what we need. To find peace. To be whole.”
“I've learned my lesson. For good this time. Seriously. If I come home and Kate is screwing some random guy in our bed? I won't freak out - I won't say a word.
I'll just pick her up, toss her over my shoulder, and carry her to the nearest DNA lab to make sure it's actually Kate, and not some evil long-lost twin hell-bent on wrecking our lives.”
“Alcohol.
It can give the courage to talk dirty and the permission to go home with the bartender.
It’s the alibi. The cover story.
It wasn’t really you—you were possessed by Captain Morgan and the Grey Goose.
Unfortunately, I have a very high tolerance for alcohol.
Sucks to be me.”
“I should have known better. Arguing with Drew is like dealing with a terrorist. He has no boundaries; nothing’s off limits. There are no depths he won’t sink to to win. Then he looks thoughtful.”
“I'm not defending him; I have no idea why he's made the choices he has. But...I can't help but feel sorry for him. Because one day he's going to open his eyes and realize that he's made the biggest mistake of his life.”
“I don't want her thinking about the baby right now, but I can't pass by the hump without paying it homage. My lips press against it once, reverently.”
“Here’s a fact for you: Married men live seven to ten years longer than bachelors. Married women, on the other hand, die about eight years earlier than their single counterparts. Are you shocked? Me neither.”
“It's nice to meet you, Evay.' I hold out my hand.
She just stares at it - like it's a spider crawling out of the shower drain. 'I don't make direct female-to-female contact. It depletes the beautification cells.'
O-kay. I glance at Billy. He seems unperturbed. I hook a thumb over my shoulder. 'So...do you guys want to eat? How about a booth?'
When Evay answers, her tone is airy, dazed, like a concussion victim. Or an acting coach - *be the tree.*
'I have my lunch right here.' She opens he realm to reveal an assortment of capsules that make my prenatals look like baby candy. 'But I need water. Do you have clear water from a snowy mountain spring?'
Wow.
Somebody call Will Smith - aliens really have landed.
'Uh...we don't get much snow around here, this time of year. We have Greenville's finest tap water, though.'
She shakes her head. And she still hasn't blinked. Not one freaking time.
'I only drink snowy mountain spring water.”
“Imagine a car’s going sixty miles an hour down a country road and a tree falls and the car hits it. Boom—instant stoppage. But if the person in the driver’s seat isn’t wearing a seat belt? They’re still going sixty.
And that’s what love is like.
It doesn’t just stop. No matter how hurt or wronged or angry you are—the love’s still there.
Sending you right through the windshield.”
“Some advice—when you’re angry with your significant other, try not to tell your friends. Because after you’ve forgiven him? They’ll never forget.”
“You can’t blame the nuclear missile for going off after all its buttons have been pushed.”
“Denial is a skill I mastered at a young age. Don’t think about it. Don’t talk about it. Suck it up. Choke it down.”
“You think you have it all under control. Your path so perfectly mapped out. And then one day you’re driving along and bam! You get rammed from behind on the freeway. And you never saw it coming. People are like that too. Unpredictable. No matter how well you think you know somebody? How confident you are of their feelings, their reactions? They can still surprise you. And in the most devastating of ways.”
“Why am I sharing it with you? Because good sex? Really, really good sex? Doesn’t need alcohol. And it’s not about compatibility, or practice, or even being in love. It’s about trust. Letting your guard down. Putting yourself in another person’s hands and letting him lead you to places you’ve never been before. And I trusted Drew. With my mind, my heart, my body. I trusted Drew with everything. At least I did then.”
“I walked into my parents’ bedroom and called my Dad for help. And that’s when it hit me—staring at their empty room. He wasn’t there. He’d never be there again. I collapsed on the floor and sobbed like a baby. Over a jar of pickles.”
“...The important thing is, if you can make it
through the rough, unexpected times? That light at the end of the tunnel is worth all the shit you had to wade through to get there.
That’s something I’ll never forget. I’m reminded of it every time I look at Kate. Every time I look at our son.
When it’s all said and done? The payoff is way more than fucking worth it.”
“us in thick, heated towels and bears me to bed.”
“Sleep now. . . . Go to sleep, my sweet, sweet girl.” My father taught me to play the guitar, but I get my voice from my mother. Lying in bed, I close my heavy eyes as she sings. It’s a Melissa Etheridge song about angels knowing that everything will be all right. It’s the same song she sang to me the night my father died—the night she slept in this bed with me. Because she couldn’t bear to sleep in their bed alone. With my mother’s voice in my ears, I finally let go. And fall asleep.”
“Se amate qualcuno, se lo amate davvero, lo accetterete per quello che è. Non cercherete di cambiarlo.”
“La vita non è perfetta. O prevedibile. Non aspettatevi che lo sia.
Un minuto prima state nuotando nell'oceano. L'acqua è liscia e tranquilla, siete rilassati. E un attimo dopo, senza alcun preavviso, una risacca vi trascina a fondo.
È quello che farete dopo a contare. Farete tutto il possibile? Scalcerete per tornare a galla, anche se le braccia e le gambe vi fanno male? O vi arrenderete e vi lascerete annegare?
È il modo in cui reagite agli imprevisti della vita a fare la differenza.”
“He’s exquisite. Perfection made flesh.
Granted, he didn’t come out looking like this. A few hours ago, he bore a strong resemblance to a screaming featherless chicken.
But he was my screaming featherless chicken, so he was still the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I pull back and tell him, “You’re amazing.”
He gives me a soft smirk. “That is the general consensus.”
I smile. “And I love you.”
He sets my feet on the floor but keeps his arms around my waist. “Good. Then you’re going to let me put three locks on the door of whatever apartment you decide to move into. And a chain. And a dead bolt.”
I smile wider. “Okay.”
Drew slowly steps forward, backing me up toward the bed.
“And you’re not going to bitch when I have a security system installed.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
We take another step together, almost like we’re dancing.
“I’m thinking about buying you one of those ‘I’ve fallen and I can’t get up’ necklaces too.”
My eyes squint as I pretend to think about the idea. “We’ll talk about it.”
“And . . . you’re going to let me walk you home from work every night.”
“Yes.”
The back of my legs make contact with the bed frame.
“I’m also going to come to every doctor’s appointment with you.”
“I didn’t for a second imagine you wouldn’t.”
Drew cups my face in his hands. “And one day, I’m going to ask you to marry me. And you’re going to know it’s not because you’re pregnant, or because of some misguided attempt to keep you.”
Tears spring into my eyes as we gaze at each other.
In a rough voice, he continues, “You’re going to know I’m asking because nothing would make me prouder than to be able to say, ‘This is my wife, Kate.’ And when I do ask, you’re going to say yes.”
When I nod, one tear trails down my cheek. Drew wipes it away with his thumb as I promise, “It’s a sure thing.”
And then he’s kissing me, with all the passion and desire he’s held in check the last two days. Drew cradles my head as we fall on the bed together.”
“My mother folds her arms and taps her foot. “I won’t have him under my roof, Katherine. He’s not welcome here.”
And this is why you should never complain to your family about your significant other. They don’t know him like you do, and they sure as hell don’t love him like you do. So they will never—ever—forgive him like you will.
Even though I can see where my mom is coming from, I’ve kind of got a lot on my plate at the moment. And she’s really not helping the situation.
“If that’s the case, then I won’t be staying here either.”
My mom looks shocked and her arms drop to her sides.
And Delores says, “Hey, Moron—” Drew looks her way. “Yes, you. This is the part where you’re supposed to say you don’t want to come between Katie and her mother. That you’ll go stay at a hotel.”
Drew snorts. “Guess I’m not that chivalrous. I’m staying with Kate. Where she goes, I go.”
Dee smirks. “Aww, it’s like Jack and Rose on the Titanic.” She raises her hand. “Who else is hoping Douche Bag ends up the same way Jack did?”
“Kate, I’m—”
I whirl around and point a finger at him. “If you tell me you’re sorry, I will kick your balls up into your eye sockets, I swear to God!”
He closes his mouth. Smart move.”
“None of us were kidding when we said we wanted to have enough kids to make a Quidditch team, were we?”
“You suck at working with someone," I say, because it's true.”
“The last declaration he'd made to me hung between us. The L word. The one that had nothing to do with like.”
“Do you think we can be friends?” I asked.
He stared up at the ceiling. “Probably not, but we can pretend.”
“He reached out, ran his finger down the fine, ultra-smooth flesh of her cheek and knew he had never touched anything so soft.
I dare you. The memory of her pretty pink lips forming those words had his lips quirking.
He leaned close, feathered her hair from her ear and whispered, “Never dare me.”
She jackknifed in the bed. Her eyes flew open, and a scream of pure terror erupted from her lips with such a suddenness that he couldn’t counter it.
He cursed, jumped for the window, grabbed the rope he’d secured beside it, and in the time it took for her screams to die he was on the ground and running.
Damn. Guess he shouldn’t have warned her, he thought with a smile. But he had. And he hoped, for her sake, she remembered it.”
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