Up until that last bit, Carrie had been watching the television screen closely. She was watching like she'd been trained to watch for evidence, with a sharp eye for detail. They'd both been drunk. But not so much so that they were stumbling. Their words had been clear.
Carrie had been looking for blame. And she hadn't been able to find any. Dick hadn't been a slime. If he had, it would have made things much easier.
When she heard her voice telling him to marry her, she let out a soft noise. It might have been a laugh or a simple, quiet exhalation. She'd asked him. And he'd obviously said yes. And they'd gotten married. And it was Carrie's fault. Which meant she didn't really have a right to yell at Dick and freak out and leave. No matter how tempting.
"I-" Carrie brought a hand to her face, covering her eyes. "Shit," she said. "Shit." She should have been happy. Or, at the very least, she probably shouldn't have been freaking out in front of Dick. But she couldn't help herself. She felt a little sick.