“We followed my ex-boyfriend on vacation,” I tell the ceiling, and if Silas listens it’s okay. “Fiancé.” “Let me forget one bad decision.” I can hear him chuckle in the dark. “It would be creepy if we followed them around all day tomorrow and started dry-humping every time they turned to look at us,” he says, voice so low and slow I can almost pretend Silas didn’t just say dry-humping. “But we happen to be hanging out at the same resort.”
