Hey, Tink," Reed called to his wife. He'd given up on the poker game and was cradling the little pink handle that was Mariah Savage in his arms. "Look how cute she is. I think I want one. S'pose we can stop by Walmart and pick up one just like her.?" Chrystal glanced up from her cards and gave her husband a look. "Three o'clock feedings. Smelly diapers. Responsability." "Oh. Right. I'd have to grow up.

Amy, listen to me. What I do. The choices I make. They're mine. Only mine. The consequences of those decisions—mine. "Mine," he repeated when she sighed heavily. "No one else's." Silence. Only the warm wetness of her tears dampening his shirt. It broke his heart.

Amy sat back and grinned. "You just smiled." That was definitely something else she could get used to. Of course, he frowned immediately. "I smile.

I don't think sleeping with you is going to solve anything," she said, stopping at the guest bedroom door. "I don't really care what you think.

Men. <...> They're idiots. It's like they all take a vow of stupidity or something.

Ah, well.” He smiled-another one of those devastatingly intoxicating smiles that did unreasonable things to her body temperature and respiration. With a nod and a respectful, “Ma’am,” he left her in the middle of the room. Feeling like she’d been hit by a tank.

He understood that she needed some time to get used to "them." He didn't. He knew exactly what was happening, and he didn't need another week, another month, another year, to get things in perspective. He loved her. It was that plain. That simple.