“I really do love you, Arsène. I know you don’t believe it. Not all the time, anyway. But it’s true. I’m glad we chose each other. I’m glad you won.” My whole body beams. It is pathetic, how much I crave her approval. This must be the most pitiful form of mommy issues I’ve yet to witness. “Hey, Grace?” I tug at her dark ponytail, winking. “I believe you.” “You do?” She brightens.
