“You went to war trying to give me the perfect night. Your poor, ruined eyeballs are stunningly beautiful because of your intentions.” “Are you pitying me?” I asked, putting my hands over hers, trapping her palms against me. “I am obsessed with you, actually,” she confessed, her eyes on mine as she said, “
Because you pulled a Liv for me.
”
“This was supposed to be attached to the collar of your new puppy,” he said, his voice gravelly. “This was supposed to happen with dinner, wine, and two working eyes, but suddenly I feel like I can’t wait another minute.”