[ That chipped nail polish brings back memories, because of course it was always in need of upkeep. She'd wondered if he thought it added to his Don't Care attitude, that he couldn't be bothered to always have the perfect paint job. He got into enough fights to bang it up, that's for sure - she knew how that went all too well.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat at his words, that old pain rising up to the surface. The betrayal she'd felt then was overshadowed by the much more recent indiscretion by her friends, but she still remembered it.

Heaven. ]

It was supposed to be. I was gone for months. At peace. For one hundred and forty-seven days. [ There was a tiny smile then, directed at him with a fondness she knew he wouldn't understand. ] You kept count. And you looked after Dawn while I was gone. I've always been grateful for that.