Randall knew. Randall...that was the job. Let Harold do whatever he wanted to me, aside from one thing. Tempt him off the garden path and into the shadows. And Harold did everything except that one thing.

[Things that hadn't even transpired in Nadine's own marriage bed, which says a great deal. Tomorrow she may regret sharing all of this, it's not something she ever shares in any detail, but for now...a part of her wants to talk about it. And a part of her thinks maybe Julie can understand some of it.]

Maybe that's why Flagg didn't care that I killed him. I wasn't supposed to, but...No. He was a slimy little creep with nothing but hate in him and he didn't deserve Vegas or whatever praise might have been coming his way for building a bomb.

[He didn't deserve it and she wasn't going to let him have it. Or share her own place and people with him. He'd been a tool, nothing more, used and then tossed aside when his use was over.

It means something to Nadine that it was her decision to end him. It had been, she thinks, something important.]

And he thought I was weak. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not weak.