I'm sorry you're angry is not an apology.

My father insisted that the boys in my life were directly responsible for my juvenile-delinquent tendencies. My mother, more accurately, assumed that I was the bad influence.

You're a terrible cook, Daniel." "I know," he replied, "But it's the effort that counts." "I hope that's not the slogan for your dental practice.

Stop looking at me like that." Sorry, I just wanted to savor the moment," Mom replied. What moment?" I asked. You're in first place," she said, and then began washing the windows.

The next week she withheld my paycheck until I signed a document (drafted by David) in which I promised not to marry Connor. Ever. I signed the document, took the check, and had David draft another document forbidding all Spellmans to practice any form of blackmail. David tried to explain to me that a contract in which you promise not to break the law is ultimately redundant, but I didn't care.

While he bore no real resemblance to anyone in my family, his features were a collection of my mother's and father's best attributes, with a few of Gregory Peck's thrown in.

I refuse to have a life partner who spends his days pretending to be on a BBC show.