“You’re really sticking around, aren’t ya?” “Afraid so.” I smiled in the darkness. “For the ring. The white dress. The white picket fence. The whole nine yards.” “Jesus.” He chuckled. “Don’t push it.” “I always push it, Joe.” “Understatement of the century, Molloy.” “When we get engaged—” “We’re not getting engaged.” “I want a ring the size of my fist.” He snorted. “Good luck with that.” “And when we get married—” “We’re not getting married.”
