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How in the hell had he ended up in love with a woman who thought—and he quoted her here—“love was for dickheads”?
“That’s it? You want sex?” He gave her a slow, lazy smile. “And you didn’t think to come to me?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “If you’re pregnant, we’ll just get married.”
“But, Jake, I’m so not your type. I dress wrong. I behave wrong. I get drunk and act silly.” She knew she sounded desperate when he chuckled again. “Sweetheart, you’ll always be my type, whatever you wear, whatever you do.”
“Sometimes we lose the people we love through no choice or fault of our own. And we have to go on, even though at the time it might seem impossible.”
But my point is, right now you have a choice, and maybe you need to stop worrying about what either of you want and decide what you can’t live without.”
