Sage," he said. "What are you wearing?" I sighed and stared down at the dress. "I know. It's red. Don't start. I'm tired of hearing about it." "Funny," he said. "I don't think I could ever get tired of looking at it.

I found the candles—atrocious air freshening ones that smelled like fake pine.

At long last, she gasped out, "It’s Seth." "What happened?" I demanded. "Is he okay?" "He ended it." Her crying renewed. "He broke the engagement and told me it was over.

He shouldn't have said that," repeated Adrian, eerily serious. He leaned his face toward mine. "I don't care if he's not the emotional type or the complimentary type or what. No one can look at you in this dress, in all that fire and gold, and start talking about anachronisms. If I were him, I would have said, 'You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen walking this earth.

You made your own jean shorts...with a butter knife?

Mmm. O positive, my favorite.” “Is it? I thought it was a cabernet sauvignon.” “So it is,” said Adrian, straight-faced. “My mistake.

You make a joke out of everything. Life’s too painful not to.