I wake up to my phone ringing through a lacerating headache. I ignore it. The person calls again. The guy sleeping next to me grumbles enough that I pick it up, mumbling hello, my breath acrid, my mouth chalky and sticky. There is a frantic woman on the line demanding “are you Tara?” I grunt affirmative. “I’d like to know what this magical evening you spent with my fiance is all about.” Shit. Which one was that? I’d been flinging my body around so carelessly, to whoever would take it, I wasn’...