“Maybe we should date,” Miles says. I choke. He watches me coughing, an impish grin forming on his impish mouth. “Yes,” I finally manage. “A shared cuckolding is the most fertile ground from which love could ever spring.” “Yeah, that,” he says, “and it would piss them off.” “As you pointed out,” I say. “They don’t care. They’re getting married, Miles.” “And six weeks ago, you were getting married,” he says. “Hey, if you’re willing to keep reminding me of that daily, I can go ahead and rename my morning alarm something other than WAKE UP, YOU’VE BEEN JILTED, BITCH.”
