Harlem

“I've been drinking, all right? Your skin was three inches from my face, and you're beautiful, and you smell fucking awesome when you sweat. I kissed you! I'm sorry! Get over yourself!”
― Jamie McGuire, Beautiful Disaster

“I fucking love you!” He grabbed each side of my face,
slamming his lips against mine. “I love you so much,
Pigeon,” he said, kissing me over and over.
“Just remember that in fifty years when I’m still kicking
your ass in poker,” I giggled.
He smiled, triumphant. “If it means sixty or seventy
years with you, Baby…you have my full permission to
do your worst.”
I raised one eyebrow, “You’re gonna regret that.”
“You wanna bet?”
I smiled with as much deviance as I could muster.”
― Jamie McGuire, Beautiful Disaster

“It's over. Go home."
His eyebrows pulled in. "You're my home.”
― Jamie McGuire, Beautiful Disaster

“You just asked me to marry you," he said, still waiting for me to admit some kind of trickery.
"I know."
"That was the real deal, you know. I just booked two tickets to Vegas for noon tomorrow. So that means we're getting married tomorrow night."
"Thank you."
His eyes narrowed. "You're going to be Mrs. Maddox when you start classes on Monday."
"Oh," I said, looking around. Travis raised an eyebrow.
"Second thoughts?"
"I'm going to have some serious paperwork to change next week."
He nodded slowly, cautiously hopeful. "You're going to marry me tomorrow?"
I smiled. "Uh huh"
"You're serious?"
"Yep."
"I fucking love you!" He grabbed each side of my face, slamming his lips against mine. "I love you so much, Pigeon," he said, kissing me over and over.”
― Jamie McGuire, Beautiful Disaster