I can’t tell her everything about us, which sucks—because, ya know, newfound promise of transparency—but I can tell her something, I guess. “Axel has been…kind while I’ve been there. Not around a lot, but when he is, he’s kind. We’ve spent some time together and talked a little—” Got married. Made pancakes. Kept a skunk vigil. Made out. Held hands. You know, as one does with the man for whom you hold an insatiable, lusty torch.
