Lying in bed, under the sloping roof of our Paris garret, C said we should get married. I said yes, because I was in love with him, and because I wanted my whole self to want something, no questions asked. I wanted that consolidation. I wanted to believe in love as a conscious decision more than an act of surrender. I’d spent years surrendering myself to feelings and I was tired of it. Surrender was just an excuse. You could bend emotion to your will instead.

This firmness would help me escape what one ex had called my “terrible, fickle heart.” Maybe not escape that heart, but discipline it.