Текст книги "Finders Keepers"

Автор книги: Nicole Williams

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

IT WAS MY last night sleeping under the Gibsons’ roof. I hadn’t yet decided if I’d remove myself or if Mr. Gibson and his shotgun would have to do the removing, but I held off sleep for as long as I could realizing tomorrow night, Josie wouldn’t be a mere few rooms away.

After Mr. Gibson’s and my conversation, I’d stood out on that porch for a while. I heard Mrs. Gibson all but force Josie up to bed when she headed for the front door to find me. I waited another hour after all the lights in the house had gone out. I was cold and I’d been beaten within a few inches of my life, but I felt numb. Everything inside and outside of me felt anesthetized. Everything but my heart. It ached so badly I almost convinced myself I was having a heart attack.

What Josie’s dad had said was right. All of it. I might have made a solemn vow with myself never to hurt her and to keep her protected, but I seemed incapable of either. While I knew I couldn’t assume the trend would carry into the future, I couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t, and until I knew for sure that I wouldn’t hurt her, I couldn’t be around her. Not after what had happened. Josie would wear a fist-sized bruise on her face the rest of the month because the shit that followed me at every turn had caught sight of her and decided to share the wealth.

So I was leaving. I wouldn’t make Mr. Gibson throw me out. I’d pack my bags and leave until I figured out what needed figuring out. Which, when it came to me, was like saying I needed to figure out everything. I hadn’t decided what I’d say to Josie yet, or if anything I could say would explain it all to her. How could I express to her that I was leaving her for her own good? Especially when I knew neither one of us would feel good about it. That was the question I was stuck on when my body finally gave in and gave up to sleep.

It wasn’t the dreamless kind of sleep either . . .

A couple summers ago, Josie’s brother was turning twenty-one. Jesse was out of town at some rancher’s convention with his dad and had asked me to tag along with Josie and keep an eye on her. Not because he didn’t trust her—because he was Jesse Walker and he gave trust like it was in limitless supply—but because he knew there’d be alcohol and a bunch of Luke’s frat brothers who had a thing for his little sister. Even if Jesse hadn’t asked me to hang with Josie at the party, I would have. I didn’t trust those U of M frat boys as far as I could throw their hillbilly deluxe trucks.

The party was at Luke’s frat house. After Josie had drained a couple of shots, every time I turned around, some other frat douche was handing her another. I don’t know how many she had total, but I’d counted seven when I finally called bullshit. I shut the music off, climbed up on a table, and warned the next son of a bitch who slipped her a drink that he’d leave there with my boot up his ass. The drinks slowed, but they didn’t stop. Thankfully, she stayed glued to my side unless she had to go to the restroom, which I stood outside of and guarded like a fucking Rottweiler. Luke drank himself into a mini coma halfway into the night, so I was literally the only guy in the room not trying to lure Josie into some dark room. It got old. Fast.

I was about two seconds away from driving my elbow into a guy’s jaw—the one who kept grinding up against Josie when we weren’t anywhere close to the thrown-together dance floor—when Josie threw her arms around my neck, looked up at me with those green eyes of hers, and grinned.

“Ever since that first dance we had back in high school, I’ve always dreamed of dancing with you again.” Before her words had registered, she tucked her head beneath my chin and swayed against me. “Tonight, I finally get to live that dream.”

I’d been conflicted in my life plenty of times and to varying degrees, but that dance with that girl . . . there was no word for how conflicted I felt right then. Conflicted didn’t even come close to describing it. I knew my arms didn’t belong around her, and I knew my body didn’t have a right to respond to her the way it was, but my head and heart never aligned when I was with Josie. I danced with her. That first dance, and a second, and a third. After the fifth one, I lost count. Dance after dance didn’t make it any easier to drop my arms and let her go. She’d wandered into them of her own accord, and I wasn’t sure I could ever let her wander out.

The party was in full swing, and everyone was plastered enough that it wasn’t just a roomful of lowered inhibitions—it was a roomful of no inhibitions. The only thing more on my mind than never letting our dance end was protecting Josie. I was about to finally let her go so I could get her out of there when her mouth moved just outside of my ear.

“Take me home,” she whispered, her breath warm against my skin.

Grabbing her hand, I led her out of that frat house, lifted her inside of my truck, and didn’t touch the brake until we were in front of the Gibsons’ house. Her parents were at the same rancher’s convention as the Walkers, but the fact that Josie and I had a big, quiet house all to ourselves wasn’t even on my mind when I helped her through the front door and carried her to her bedroom when she tripped over the first step. The most I’d seen Josie drink was a couple of a beers, and the girl had a low tolerance. Given the number of shots she’d had, it was a miracle she was still able to talk.

After getting her laid out on her bed, I’d told her I would run and grab her some water and pain reliever to help with the morning-after effects. I fumbled through her parents’ medicine cabinet for a while to find what I needed. By the time I returned with the pills and water, I expected her to be passed out and snoring. I certainly didn’t expect to walk in and find her dress on the floor and her standing in front of an open window wearing nothing but her underwear and bra. She held a frame with the picture of her, Jesse, and me as children. Her thumb circled my scowly face. I dropped the glass of water, and it shattered when it hit the floor.

Josie had spun around in surprise, but when she saw it was just me, she smiled. Josie being next to naked and smiling at me as the moonlight streamed onto her skin . . . that would have been enough to drop me to my knees if I wasn’t already moving in her direction.

“You dropped something,” she’d said, setting down the picture.

“Joze?” I’d swallowed, knowing I should look away. Knowing but not able to. “Why are you in your underwear?”

My throat had already felt dry, but by the time she stopped in front of me and pressed against my body, it went something else entirely. “I told you. Tonight, I get to live my dream.”

I’d smelled the alcohol on her breath and I saw it blurring her eyes—I knew she was in no condition to make decisions—but when her hands worked the buttons of my shirt loose, I basically said Fuck it, shut my brain off entirely, and went with what my heart and body were telling me to do.

Once she’d peeled off my shirt, Josie unfastened her bra. When she pressed her bare chest into mine, I had to bite my tongue and close my eyes to keep from coming right then and there. I’d been with plenty of women, and plenty of women had shoved their chests up against mine in a similar way, but never, never had I almost fallen apart when one did it. Not that I needed the reminder, but Josie’s touch did things to me I’d never experienced before.

I don’t know who was the first to kiss the other. All I remembered was that when it happened and whoever had made the first move, I knew I wouldn’t make the last one. I wouldn’t be the one to ever stop kissing her because I simply couldn’t. When I laid her back onto her bed, while I was busy unfastening my fly, she slipped out of her panties. Just as I was about to lower myself into her, that picture on her dresser caught my attention. From across the room, a smiling blond boy watched me. I’d muttered a curse, and just as I pulled back, Josie wrapped her arms and legs around me and pulled me to her.

When her eyes locked onto mine, she smiled, then whispered, “Finders keepers.”

Whether it was her hips that took me in or my hips that took her, I knew one thing—things would never be the same.

They never had been.

THAT WAS THE dream I bolted awake from. While I didn’t consider it a nightmare because of what had happened that night, it became a nightmare when I realized that was possibly the first and the last time I’d experience Josie that way. I’d had that dream before, but until Jesse and Rowen had gotten together, I’d burst awake from it drenched in sweat and guilt.

Before long that night, Josie and I had been digging our fingers into the other’s backs and screaming each other’s names, but unlike Josie—who’d fallen asleep immediately after—sleep never found me. Instead, I went from staring at the girl I’d always wanted and now had to the boy in the photograph. What we’d done that night was the ultimate betrayal. Jesse was a good man, the best man I’d ever known. That he openly admitted to being best friends with the town drunk’s son was something I’d never felt worthy of. That night, I understood why.

I wasn’t worthy of his friendship. I sure as hell wasn’t worthy of the girl lying next to me with a peaceful expression on her face. I’d taken Josie from him, and even though I’d felt exactly that way back in high school when he asked her to Homecoming, I’d never planned on repaying him. Especially not by having sex with her while he was out of town and he’d asked me to watch out for her.

I’d been worried all night about other guys putting moves on her, but I should have been worried about myself. Mr. Gibson had been right: I was a virus. I didn’t mean to spread my sickness, but I simply couldn’t help it. I’d infected my two best friends in the world that night, and before the sun had risen the next morning, I was on the phone with Jesse explaining what had happened. Of course that did nothing but further alienate me from both of them. I turned into the even-harder shell of a person I’d been until Josie had catapulted back into my life.

History was pretty much repeating itself. I’d moved in on her when she’d been with someone else, giving no thought to what was best for her—only what was best for me. Given the way she looked at me and the intention in her touch, I’d practically convinced her that I was what was best for her, too. But I wasn’t what was best for her. How could I be when the only roof I had over my head was the cab of my old truck? How could I be what was best for her when I didn’t even know what was best for myself? How could I love her the way she deserved to be loved when my parents hadn’t shown me an ounce of it?

The answer to those and the other questions streaming through my head was simple—I couldn’t. That answer made me throw off the covers, jump out of bed, and pull my duffle bag out of the closet. I had to go. It would be hard for her, but unlike me, Josie would recover. She’d dry her eyes one morning and wake up to find the sun a little brighter and her future more hopeful without me in it. She’d live the life I’d always wanted for her. It just wouldn’t be with me.

Stuffing the first thing in my bag was the hardest. Once I got past that, the rest went in quickly. I’d made up my mind. The sooner I was out of there, the easier it would be for both of us to move on. Or in my case, pretend to move on. I was sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on my boots when the doorknob twisted. I froze, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t get my heart to follow suit. I needed my heart frozen to say good-bye to Josie. I needed it frozen to make it out that front door and leave her behind. But the instant that door opened and she slipped inside, I knew my fight to freeze anything was over.

She had a playful smile on, and then she saw the full duffle on the bed and the boots in my hand. All playfulness fell from her face, along with the smile. “Where the hell are you going?”

I closed my eyes to keep from having to look into her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m just going.”

“Is this because of something my dad said to you?”

I shook my head once. “No.”

“Is this because of what happened earlier? Are you feeling guilty because I’ve got a little bruise on my face?” Josie was whispering but just barely. If the conversation got any more heated, and I knew it would, she would wake up the whole house soon.

“I’m going because I have to go.”

“No, you don’t,” she snapped.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yes, I do. You know it, and now I finally do, too.”

“No, I damn well don’t know that, and you don’t either, Black. So do me a favor and stop playing the martyr.” Her voice wobbled over a few words, but she still sounded more pissed off than anything else.

“Joze, I’m going.” Grabbing a boot, I started sliding my foot into it before she flew across the room, grabbed it, and tossed it into the corner.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

What I wouldn’t have given to have a heart made out of ice so I wouldn’t have to feel the throbbing deep in my chest from the desperate look on her face or the tears about to release from her eyes. I wanted to be a shell of a man. I wanted to be the person I’d always let everyone assume I was. I sprung up and threw my hands behind my head to keep from pulling her close. “Fine, Joze. Fine. Give me one goddamned good reason why I shouldn’t go now. Why I shouldn’t leave now instead of later because you know I’ve got to leave someday. I can’t stay here and pretend you and me are going to live happily ever after. So tell me, how much longer do you want to live this temporary fairy tale? How much longer do you want to keep convincing yourself that you want me for the rest of your life? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t walk out that door now.”

“Because I love you.” That time, her voice didn’t waver. In fact, those might have been the strongest words I’d ever heard her say.

I collapsed on the bed, dropping my face into my hands. My whole life I’d waited to hear those words from her, and their timing couldn’t have been worse. “No, Josie, you can’t. Don’t love me. You get to choose who you love, so please”—I grabbed her hands and kept my head bowed into them—“please don’t waste it on me.”

“Don’t tell me who to love, Garth Black. And don’t you dare tell me it’s a waste to give it to you.” Josie kneeled beside me. I knew she was waiting for me to say something. Anything, probably, but other than good-bye, there was nothing else to say. “I just told you I love you.”

“No.” I shook my head, keeping it buried in my hands. “Please, Josie, just please stop.”

“I love you,” she repeated.

Those words hit me hard. Mostly because of the person saying them, but also because they were the first time I’d ever heard them. The first time those three words had been applied to me. Someone loved me. Not just anyone—Josie loved me. Fuck. What I wouldn’t have done to be the man deserving of that love. I would have given anything . . . but I had nothing to give. I couldn’t produce a diamond when I was made of shit. “You don’t love me. You can’t.”

“I can and I do.” She inhaled slowly. “Some part of me has always loved you.”

Hearing the exact things I’d wanted to hear for so long, moments before I was going to walk out that door and leave Josie behind, was becoming physically painful. “When you and Jesse were together?”

“Yes. It might not have been the kind I feel for you now, but I loved you.”

I shook my head into my hands. Yesterday, I would have killed to hear the things she was saying, but right then, those words were killing me. Because I had to leave.

“When you were mean to me when Jesse and I first got together and you said some hurtful things, I loved you then. And when you dated all of my friends, leaving a trail of broken hearts in your wake, avoiding me like I was one exception to the who-meets-Garth-Black’s-belt-notch-standard, I loved you then, too.”

All I could do was keep shaking my head. “And what about when you did become one of the girls to crawl into bed with me? What about when you woke up alone the next morning to not so much as a note or a good-bye? What about the months I said horrible things to one of the people I cared about most because I was taking out my anger on her? My anger at failing her, my anger at ruining a good relationship she had with a good man, my anger for failing at everything. What then, Joze?” I couldn’t holler the words like I needed to, and somehow, their quietness was ten times more piercing.

“I wanted to hate you after that. I tried so damn hard it hurt.” Josie paused. Maybe it was because she needed to wipe away a tear or maybe she was simply at a loss, but I couldn’t look at her to find out. One look and my resolve to leave would be gone. Josie had a way of upending my whole world in one moment. “But even then, I still loved you. I realized that if I couldn’t find some way to weed out the love I had for you after that, it wouldn’t go away. Ever.”

“No, Joze . . .”

“Garth Black, I love you.” Josie slid onto my lap and slowing pulled my hands from my face. Once she had, her eyes met mine. If I hadn’t been about to break down already, I was then. “And I know you love me too.”

“Josie—”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me right now. I know it’s hard for you . . . I know it’s hard hearing the words.” Lifting the hem of her nightgown, Josie pulled it up and over her head. She wasn’t wearing anything beneath it. “Just show me you do. Show me you love me, and we’ll work on the telling part later.”

I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut. I wanted to pull my hands away and lock them behind my back to keep them from sliding around her waist like they were. I wanted to keep from looking into her eyes. But I couldn’t. I was a strong, stubborn man save for one thing: Josie Gibson.

Pushing on my chest, Josie laid me down. Having her on top of me, looking down at me with so much love in her eyes it practically suffocated me, I almost slipped. I almost said it. Those three words I’d been choking back for years. And years. And years. I almost said those words, but I didn’t. I knew if I did, good-bye would be impossible. If I ever let Josie know how I truly felt about her, she wouldn’t let me go. I wouldn’t let myself go.

Her eyes explored me, inspecting each bruise and bandage, before she leaned over and kissed each and every one. Her hair skimmed my chest, creating goose bumps. When her kisses moved from my chest down my stomach, I stopped breathing altogether. When Josie’s mouth had touched every hurt on my body, her mouth moved a bit lower.

“Josie,” I sighed in a strained voice, tangling my fingers through her hair.

I felt her smile curve into position before her tongue pressed into the spot just above my button fly. The willpower it took to keep from throwing her on her back and slamming inside of her two seconds later was the kind of thing men only knew of in legends. Stories told around a campfire about a man who was able to lay still and resist the woman of his fucking dreams naked and straddling him as her tongue explored the skin a whole inch north of his hard dick.

My hands slid down her waist until they had a firm hold of her backside, and when my fingers moved a bit lower, it was painfully obvious she was as ready for me as I was for her. And still, the legendary willpower stood. My idea of restraint had always been slowing down enough to roll on a condom, and there I was, still half dressed and promising myself I’d stay that way.

When Josie’s mouth had made the return journey, her face lifted above mine. Her smile and playful eyes were back. “Sorry, I missed a few spots.” Slowly, she kissed every bruise and gash on my face as she had my body. The only part she missed was my lips. When her lips slid from my jaw to my mouth, they paused. “I love you, Garth.”

It was as painful as it was overwhelming to hear those words. “Josie, no. Don’t—”

“Too late,” she replied right before her mouth covered mine.

She kissed me until I’d forgotten why I needed to say good-bye—I almost forgot my own damn name. She kissed me like she’d waited a lifetime to do just that, and I kissed her back like I’d have a whole lifetime to live without ever kissing her again. It was surreal in a way only a person who’d loved another their whole life could understand. Josie and I kissed for so long I almost forgot she was naked and ready above me. Almost. When her lips skimmed past my jaw and down my neck, her fingers trailed down my stomach until they tugged on my fly.

Oh, shit. I knew I needed to stop, I knew that . . . I just couldn’t remember why. Once my fly was open, Josie’s hand gripped me, moving steadily up and down until I was gasping. When my gasps turned into loud moans, Josie’s mouth moved back to mine, silencing my cries of pleasure and pain with her kisses. I might not have been able to remember why I needed her to stop, but knowing I needed to stop it was enough. That made what should have been pleasurable, painful and what was painful, pleasurable. It was a fucking train wreck of pain and pleasure and touch that I never wanted to walk away from.

As Josie’s hand moved faster, I had to grit my teeth and move my hands from her ass or else I would come right then. If I was going to come with Josie, it wouldn’t be in her hand.

In one seamless move, I had her on her back. I braced myself over her, my hips locked so closely together with hers, one small movement would put me inside of her. Exactly where I didn’t only want to spend the rest of the night, but the rest of my life. All the possible conquests in my future didn’t hold a candle to the way I felt being so close to Josie, knowing she loved me and I fucking worshipped her.

Kissing her once more, I leaned back just enough to stare at her. I wanted to look into her eyes, and I wanted her to look into mine. She wasn’t drunk, she wasn’t with Jesse, and it wasn’t strictly a moment of reckless abandon. I wanted to look into her eyes when I took her so I could see exactly what it felt like to know she was making love to me just like I was making love to her .

It would be a first, and one I knew I’d never forget.

Then, almost like a spotlight, a beam of moonlight broke through the window and illuminated Josie’s face. Where the bruise taking up one whole cheek was darkening. My stomach twisted right after it clenched. I remembered what happened and why we couldn’t do it. Now. Or ever. I might not have directly caused it, but Josie wore that bruise because of me. I moved to roll off of her, but her legs wound around me and didn’t let me go.

“What? What is it?” she asked.

I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see what my shit-poor luck had done to Josie, but then I forced them open and made myself look so I’d never forget. So if I ever got the tiniest inclination to throw myself back into Josie’s life, I’d remember the image of her bruised face below me then. “It’s just . . . what happened . . .” The skin between her eyebrows wrinkled. I lifted my thumb to the wrinkle, trying to erase it. “Mason. I can’t stop thinking about what—”

“Colt and me?” she interjected. “Is that what you’re worried about? Colt and me and what happened between us?”

I took a moment to figure out what she meant. “Well, shit . . . No, that wasn’t what I was thinking, but now I am.” I’d never asked Josie about her and Colt’s relationship for two reasons. One, because it was none of my goddamned business. And two, because I didn’t want to know a goddamned detail. Even thinking about Colt Mason’s hands running down the same areas mine just had or about his . . . inside of her . . . I punched the mattress beside her head, trying to get the image out of my mind.

“Garth, stop. There’s no need to get all worked up.” Her hands formed around my face, and she waited for my eyes to shift back to hers.

“No need to get worked up? Another man being with you . . . Another man being . . . intimate with you . . . It’s a lot for me to process, okay? Let’s just leave it at that and forget about it. Forget forget about it.” Truly, if I never had to experience the image of Colt naked and braced over Josie the way I was, that was just fine by me.

“There’s nothing to get worked up about and nothing to forget”—she shook her head when I raised an eyebrow—“or forget forget because nothing ever happened.”

I know I was one flex and slide away from being buried inside of Josie, but I liked to think my brain didn’t strictly run off whatever my dick was doing—or almost doing. But what had Josie just said? Surely she couldn’t have meant . . . “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I don’t know. Are you asking me what I think you’re asking?”

“Okay, I was confused before, but now I’m positively dumbfounded.” I slid Josie’s hair back from her forehead and waited.

“Colt and I never . . .” Biting her lip, she shrugged.

“You and Colt never slept together?” Because I needed it spelled out—especially when it came to the topic at hand.

Josie shook her head. “No.”

If my body hadn’t been beaten to a pulp earlier, I would have attempted a back handspring. “Then who was the last guy you slept with?” I skimmed through my memory banks. Other than Jesse and Colt, I couldn’t recall Josie being with anyone else. I couldn’t remember her being with anyone but . . . I arrived at my conclusion the instant before she replied.

“Well . . . you were.”

That had been two years ago. The last guy she’d been with was me, and that was forever ago. I felt two emotions: pure and utter elation that I was the last man inside Josie and . . . pity. “I was the last guy you slept with? Damn, that sucks for you.” It certainly didn’t suck for me, but it did for her. “At least the first guy you slept with was Jesse fucking Walker. That has to even it out somewhat. Jesse, first. Me, last. Think you could call it even and we cancel each other out?” Damn. I’d slept with so many women over the course of two years I didn’t even want to consider tallying up that number. Especially realizing Josie’s tally was a big fat zero.

“Jesse and I never slept together either.” Josie’s hands stayed planted on my face, and her thumbs stroked my cheeks. It was a soothing gesture, but I should have been soothing her. She hadn’t slept with Jesse, the guy she’d been with for two years, the guy she’d started dating when a teenager’s libido is in full force . . . Which meant . . .

“Fuck,” I muttered as my head became too heavy to hold up. Even with her hands braced around it, the weight was too much. “Are you saying I was your first? That that night was your”—I swallowed and hung my head farther—“that was your first time?”

“You were my first. And you were my last.”

I’d had some heavy bombs dropped on me in my lifetime. Being parentless, penniless, and living out of a truck confirmed that. But Josie admitting I’d been the one to take her virginity in a night of drunken haze and recklessness . . . Not only that, but it had been the first and last time she’d had sex . . . Well, that was the fucking atom bomb of mind-fucks right there.

“Please, Joze, please, please, please, don’t tell me that’s true. I can’t even . . . I don’t even know . . .” That was the truth—I didn’t even know. How I felt, what that meant, how to proceed, and what to do next. I don’t even know became my newest marching beat, and I felt certain it was there to stay.

“There’s one more thing, Black. Since you seem to be taking this so well.” Josie peered up at me with confusion before continuing, “I don’t just want you to be my last right now. I want you to be my last forever. I want to live my last day with you being the last man I’ve been with.”

I muttered one more curse before shoving off the bed hard. I was able to break free of her legs and put the distance between us I needed to think somewhat straight again. After buttoning my jeans back up, I turned to the side in an attempt to stop staring at her naked body still spread out on the bed. “I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this.”

“Can’t or won’t?” she asked, sitting up. “And are you referring to having sex with me or having a relationship with me?”

“Those two things are one and the same for me.”

She huffed. “Says no one you’ve ever fucked, and since you’ve never had a relationship with anyone but yourself, no one’s able to offer their opinions on that.”

“Excuse me for not clarifying. What I meant was that having sex and having a relationship are one and the same when it comes to you, Josie. You.”

“Says the guy with his bag packed and tugging on his boots like he can’t get out of here fast enough.”

I pulled on the other boot before grabbing my shirt. I’d been clouded by Josie’s words and her body, but I’d remembered what I needed to do and why I needed to do it. I couldn’t get away from there quickly enough. I couldn’t linger with her for long enough either. One. Giant. Mind. Fuck. “I need to leave. You know it, and I know it. It’s going to happen one day, and a day sooner is better for both of us than a day later.”

“I know that? I know that?” she huffed again, then tossed a pillow at me. “Stop telling me what I know and don’t know and give me a straight answer. Why are you leaving, Black?”

Minutes ago, she’d been kissing me and making me feel things I didn’t know could be felt. Then we were throwing pillows and words and breaking each other’s hearts. I hated myself, somehow, even more than I ever had. “There are a million reasons I’m leaving. All of them a reason for why we can’t or shouldn’t be together and why it never could or would work out if we tried.”

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and was either issuing the glare to end all glares or was trying her damnedest to keep from crying. “You know what you need to do? Stop focusing on all of the reasons we shouldn’t be together and start accepting the reasons we should be.” Josie slid her hands through her hair, shaking her head. “You could take the most perfect couple God ever had the audacity of creating, and if they only focused on the small handful of reasons they shouldn’t be together, I guarantee you they wouldn’t make it. And we’re a long, long shot away from being a perfect couple, so why don’t you cut the glass-half-empty routine and give us a fucking chance. Give us the chance we’ve both been waiting for.”