"Something is wrong, Max," she said, looking up at him. "I don't have cold feet, but I think you might. I think maybe you always have and you've just been too... good to admit it. I've explained it away a million times. I've blamed myself. I've condemned myself. I've tried to be better for you, tried to be what it was you were after, but you don't seem to enjoy any of the changes that I try to make. I've tried lingerie and candles and wooing you as best I can and the best option I've found is a lot of wine and overt innuendo or downright dragging you to bed with me. If I'm not the problem, give me some truthful reason why you don't want to be intimate with me."
Her face paled at the words that spewed forth. Now that they were out, she wanted to take them back. She wanted to grab each and every one of them and rush out the door with the thoughts and pretend they'd never been spoken. "I asked Higgs what he might have said or done to you that made you dislike him. He brought up his jealousy over Marcus when you two were kids. Said he might have teased that you had a crush on him. If that's what all of this is about, why does it still bother you now if it wasn't true? Max, I love you. Desperately. More than I have ever and probably will ever love anyone else, but if I don't make you happy, if I am not what you want, why would you marry me?"