“Cool, cool, great. So what I’m hearing is that my baby daddy is known to fall in love with women who seemingly enjoy hunting children for sport”—I inhale sharply, my voice cutting out—“and then proceeds to drop them like they’re hot garbage?” “Well, I mean,” Sarah says, crouching closer to me across the counter, “some women are hot garbage.” “That’s my sister!” Caleb protests. “You know who she is,” Sarah fires back from behind gritted teeth.
