I was beginning to find it laborious—it wasn’t the seduction, exactly. I looked good, and I’ve always been as charming as a hungry cat when I needed to be. It was more that performing the dance had grown tedious. I didn’t want to tell someone my history; I didn’t want to be bothered to invent a new one. I wanted Marco and all our weight, all our wrinkles, all our textures, all our complexities.
