"I just told you, I don't know," she told him, sitting up so he could see the honesty in her expression. "It's what you deserve. Someone who'll be there to cook you dinner, and something more than chicken because you have to be tired of that, and someone who doesn't get shot at all the time. Someone who's not addicted to coffee, someone who can appreciate all the little things you do more than I can?"

Which, now she was being ridiculous, because Clay would have been hard pressed to find someone who appreciated him more than Annie. Not just the life-saving stuff, either, but the little things. The coffee in the morning, the looks, the way he took care of her. Annie had been a wreck for nine months because she'd missed all of him. He'd become an important detail in her life, a friend she didn't know how to live without.