Jesse, we can’t do this.” “Sure we can, honey. It’s the perfect night for it. You’re a woman, I’m a man. Those little twinkling things overhead are stars. I believe it’s referred to as romance.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were dark, almost black, filled with pain. She'd let someone do that to her. She'd known all along she felt things too deeply. She became attached. She didn't want a lover who could walk away from her, because she could never do that - love someone completely and survive intact if her left her.

You’re mine, Isabeau. You’ll always be mine. Make no mistake about it. Whether you choose to forgive me and give us a second chance, or you don’t, you’ll be my only.

But I'm not any better at relationships than you are. We'll find our way together, even if we're fumbling around in the dark for a while.

Your name is Lily Whitney. You are the woman I want at my side night and day. I want you to be the mother of my children someday. I want you for my lover. I want you for the person I turn to when the world gets to be too much.

Cute? You think he's cute? What's cute about him? ... Well, yes. He's got that smile, that really bad boy smile, and a great backside. On page eighty of the relationship manual, it clearly states, you cannot look at another man's backside, especially if you think it's great.

The real question is, can you love the real me? Not the perfect person you want me to be, not that image you had of me, but who I really am.