I love you, Marks. My heart is completely and utterly yours. And unfortunately for you, the rest of me comes with it.
You are not a perfect woman.You have an evil temper, you’re as blind as a mole, you’re a deplorable poet, and frankly, your French accent could use some work.” Supporting himself on his elbows, Leo took her face in his hands. “But when I put those things together with the rest of you, it makes you into the most perfectly imperfect woman I’ve ever known.
Are you going to cry, Mr. Bronson?” the child asked in concern, coming to stand beside his knees, staring into his downturned face. He managed to smile at her. “Just a little on the inside,” he said raspily. He felt her little hand on his cheek, and he held utterly still as she kissed him on the nose.
