I stared at him for a second and then said, “I’m trying to remember what it felt like to be in love.” To my eternal relief, he didn’t mock. Instead, he tipped his head to the side, curious. “What do you mean, ‘trying to remember’? Has it been that long? And why do you need to be across the ocean to do this?” And then, as if he’d poked a poorly made dam with a stick, what began as a trickle of random words with little meaning suddenly gathered force inside my chest and came out in a deluge of information that I couldn’t have held back if I’d tried. “My father is getting remarried,” I said. “To
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