“That’s not specific.” I wave the pen at him, even as my heart leaps. I know better than to believe pretty lies. Truly, I do. But sometimes the unloved orphan I spent my childhood being gets the best of me. Even though the world has proven itself cruel and selfish, in my heart of hearts, I simply want someone to choose me, to love me above all others. I’m too old for fairy tales—I have been since I was a child—but some fantasies persist even when you know better.
