Emma

“I don't get scared very often," he said finally. "I was scared the first morning I woke up and you weren't here. I was scared when you left me after Vegas. I was scared when I thought I was going to have to tell my dad that Trent had died in that building. But when I saw you across the flames in the basement...I was terrified. I made it to the door, was a few feet from the exit, and I couldn't leave.
"What do you mean? Are you crazy?" I said, my head jerking up to look into his eyes.
"I've never been so clear about anything in my life. I turned around, made my way to that room you were in, and there you were. Nothing else mattered. I didn't even know if we would make it out or not, I just wanted to be where you were, whatever that meant. The only thing I'm afraid of is a life without you, Pigeon."
I leaned up, kissing his lips tenderly. When our mouths parted, I smiled. "Then you have nothing to be afraid of. We're forever.”
― Jamie McGuire, Beautiful Disaster

“I know we're fucked up, alright? I'm impulsive, and hot tempered, and you get under my skin like no one else. You act like you hate me one minute, and then need me the next. I never get anything right, and I don't deserve you...but I fucking love you, Abby. I love you more than I loved anyone or anything ever. When you're around, I don't need booze, or money, or the fighting, or the one-night stands...”
― 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

“You can’t tell me
what to do anymore, Travis! I don’t belong to you!”
In the second it took him to turn and face me, his
expression had contorted into anger. He stomped toward
me, planting his hands on the bed and leaning into my face.
“WELL I BELONG TO YOU!” The veins in his neck
bulged as he shouted, and I met his glare, refusing to even
flinch. He looked at my lips, panting. “I belong to you.”
― Jamie McGuire, Beautiful Disaster