given a warning.” “Yeah. Good luck with getting that man to keep his word.” The words burn my throat as I spit them out. I hate how bitter I sound. How all of our memories, all of my hopes for a life with Chris, are corroded. Soaked in acid, tinged with regret. Everything is quiet as I disappear inside my own head, and Sloane is gracious enough to let it stay that way, to allow the snooty voices of rich housewives to fill the quiet for hours on end. We watch three episodes in that silence, until both of us are struggling to keep our eyes open.
