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“Wooo!” she whisper-hisses. “I could feel that tension. I believe this is what Timber calls ‘a match.’”
“Don’t give me that surprised look, sonny boy! I know you’re listening. And let me say that this wasn’t an accident. It means something; everything does. In fact, you should take Annie to dinner tonight!”
I’m not good with first, or second, or even third impressions. My sister, Lana Mae, likes to say I’m an acquired taste. Like an anchovy. I hate anchovies.
“You’re completely right. I should’ve anticipated that someone would be moonwalking through the lobby and not see it. My mistake.”
“Hi.” She glances at her wristwatch, and then—I kid you not—she says, “glad you could finally join us.”
“if a woman behaved like that in the workplace, everyone would assume she had PMS. But when a man does it, it’s considered sexy and powerful.”
I’m not sure I’m capable of seeing any way other than mine, but Annie makes me want to try. And that’s more than I can say for most people.
She’s in my office, and she’s in my head. Big time. And now that I’m actually admitting that to myself, I’m not sure how I feel about it.
“Vulnerability is not about winning or losing, it's about having the courage to show up even when you can't control the outcome.”
“It could never be a mistake to love you, Annie. Loving you is a privilege. An honor I don’t take lightly. And I want to keep on loving you every single day, for the rest of my days.”