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Mallory’s eyes, he’d noticed, were bluish green or greenish blue; they changed, like the color of the ocean.
my color!!
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He would pay attention. He would learn her. He would treasure her. He would make a study of her eye color, the tendrils of her hair, the shape of her tanned legs, and the gap between her teeth.
He could turn himself inside out and show her his wounds, and it would be okay.
The sheer earnestness of her excitement made Jake want to pull her up to the altar and marry her right there and then.
her eyes, which are green tonight. He prefers them green.
A year is too long to live without that smile, he thinks.
She is genuine, and that’s what he appreciates most about her. There is no artifice, no manipulation, no games.
“You’re one lucky fella.” “Oh.” Jake swallows. “Yes, I know.”
What does it take to know a person? Time. It takes time.
Mallory loves Jake. Her heart is not transferrable. It has belonged to Jake since the first time he answered the phone in Coop’s room, since the afternoon he stepped off the ferry and onto the dock, since the moment he slid an omelet onto her plate.
although loving Jake is the sweetest kind of agony, it’s agony nonetheless.
The most excruciating pain she has ever known is watching him drive away,
“This is for you, Mal. My hardheaded woman.”
