“Dude, you have to just move her shit into your house,” he says. “Just don’t even tell her.” “What?” I whisper, looking back again. “Just don’t tell her and move all her things in,” he says, and I look at the phone. “Or I mean, this worked once …” he says. “Just handcuff her to the bed and don’t let her out until she agrees.” “How are you even married?”
