“You have to stop feeling so bad about all this.” “What?” “You have to stop,” he says again. “Stop feeling so sad and guilty, and like you’ve trapped me here against my will. It makes me feel like we’re doing something wrong. And this isn’t wrong . . . right?” He looks up at me. His cheeks and brow sheened from the steam of the bath. “No,” I reply. “This isn’t wrong.” He offers me a smile,
