after cheating on you, for the vast majority of your short marriage.” He ignores my outrage, soldiering through. “While I’m right here, very much alive, and dare I say—more attractive than that oatmeal with legs and a crew cut. And you can’t tell me you don’t find me attractive, either, because I might’ve been drunk during that kiss, but my ears were working fine. And I remember, Winnifred, your heartbeat slamming against my chest. How you moaned and trembled
