“We divorced,” I mutter. “I thought you weren’t going to want me back.” His voice lowers to a pained whisper. “Why would you think that?” I lick my dry, chapped lips again. “Couples who divorce usually don’t get remarried.” Of course, we’re not actually married. But he’ll understand the metaphor. He’s used it before when we were teenagers. We played house most of our lives. It’s kind of fucked up, but I guess that’s just us. “I’m remarrying you, Lil. Fuck, I’d remarry you a hundred times until it stuck.” I pinch my eyes again. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Even if I make you miserable?” There’s a long
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