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“You sure, baby girl? I might develop a taste, and then you'd never be clear of me.”
“That crazy woman,” Silas grumbles. “If she gets a wild hair and does something and fucks her shoulder up even more, her doctor is gonna riot.” The thought of anyone talking to Aunt Dixie like that brings a smile to my face. “I’d pay to see that,” I murmur. “She’d hear him out and then she’d hand him his own ass, and he’d say thank you by the time she was done.”
“Let me put a label on it for you then, baby. You're mine, yeah? I don't care what you call me. Your boyfriend, your man, your fucking husband. It's all the same to me, as long as you know I'm yours.”
“I'm her motherfucking husband. So why don't you tell me where the fuck my wife is.”
