Appealed

But mostly I just think about her. By the time I arrive at the courthouse, I come to the obvious conclusion that Kennedy has issues. Deeply rooted, steel-reinforced, gonna-be-a-mother-to-frigging-conquer issues.

But it’s okay. I’ve been in and out of therapy for twenty years; if anybody knows about issues, it’s me. Actually, this demonstrates another way that we’re perfect for each other. We’re soul mates. Destined to be together, written in the stars, Bogie-and-Bacall perfect.

Kennedy doesn’t see it yet—but that’s all right. Because I’m patient. And relentless. When I set my mind on something, there’s nothing I can’t do.

And my mind’s on her.