Tristan is sorry about the past. He wishes it would go away. But I’m sorry about the future. I wish that it wouldn’t come. Or least, that the truth wouldn’t come out. Sitting across from him right now, it almost feels possible. Like I can actually get this marriage annulled without him ever finding out about it. Maybe we can just…pretend that this never happened. Maybe we can just start off where we had left off.

“I’m so happy, Alice,” Tristan says, leaning back in his chair. His smile turns into a laugh, which then shakes his whole body. Loose strands of hair fall into his face as he rocks back and forth. He tucks some behind his ears, over and over, but they keep getting untucked.

Our eyes meet and, this time, I don’t let go.

“Me too,” I whisper.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, taking my hand. I don’t know where we’re going. I let Tristan lead the way. I’m okay with wherever he decides to take me. I just want to be with him.

* * *

Tristan leans close to me. We’re in his room. No one else is home. His fingers run along my jawline and bury themselves in my hair. He gets closer. I feel his breath on my lips. But he doesn’t kiss me. I pull forward and try to press my lips onto his, but he stops me. He demands that I wait. He leans down and runs his lips over my neck. His lips are smooth and gentle. Soft.

I bury my hands in his hair. Slowly, I pull his head up to mine. I have to taste him. I want his tongue inside my mouth. When our lips finally meet, shivers run throughout my body. His tongue is strong and rough. Tristan grabs my neck. With each breath, his kisses get more and more passionate. Now, he is kissing me as if he’s trying to prove something. I let him. I kiss him back with the same intensity and power. I want to prove something too. No matter what happens in the future, I want him to remember this moment. This moment in which only we existed. And the whole world could stop spinning upon our command.

Slowly, Tristan removes my sweater and I pull off his t-shirt. He unbuckles his pants and steps out of them. He pushes me down onto his bed and unzips my skinny jeans. He kisses my legs as he rolls them off me. My knees grow weak, as Tristan’s kisses intensify. He runs his fingers over my breasts, toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

As my hands make my way up his naked body, they feel rushed and unstable. Urgent. The muscles in his stomach flex and I feel each distinct muscle of his six-pack. I lean back, enjoying the moment, looking forward to what’s next.

Tristan undoes my bra and tosses it on the floor. He then grabs my hips and tugs at my panties with his teeth. I wiggle my body to help him along, enjoying the ferociousness of the moment.

Slowly, he eases himself inside of me. I feel myself welcoming him inside. My fingers dig into his shoulders and my hips start to move up and down on their own. I’m getting close. I look up at him. Our eyes meet briefly. I can see that he’s getting close, too. A moment later, a warm sensation pulses through my body. My legs get numb and I dig my toes into the bed.

“Oh, Tristan,” I whisper.

“Alice,” he moans, taking one last thrust and collapsing on top of me.

* * *

We lay next to each other for a while. Twilight comes and goes and darkness sets in. But neither of us bothers to get out of bed or turn on the light. It’s as if we’re both trying to hold on to this moment for as long as possible.

“Thank you,” Tristan says, propping up his head with his hand. I turn to face him.

“No, thank you,” I say.

Tristan flashes a mischievous smile.

“Well, thank you for this, definitely,” he says, giving me a peck on a cheek. “But what I meant is thank you for forgiving me. I know that it’s not really your specialty. And that I must’ve hurt you a lot with all of my talk about taking a break.”

His words sting a little. I can’t lie. But he’s right. I’m not one to forgive easily. And if I weren’t in the wrong, if I hadn’t just accidentally married our roommate, I’m not so sure we’d be doing this right now.

“I still don’t really understand what happened,” I say. “Back then.”

“To tell you the truth,” Tristan says after a moment of silence, “I’m not so sure either. I think it was all that stress I was under. I just sort of cracked up.”

“I see.” I nod. That’s not much of an explanation, but we’ve been over this a million times. And a million explanations later, I am still not completely clear about what really happened.

“So, how’s work going?” I ask. “Still as crazy as ever?”

“Yes,” Tristan says. “More so even, I think. But I have a little bit of a routine now. So I don’t feel so lost all the time. Like I’m playing catch up.”

“And do you like it?” I ask. “Do you think it’s something you want to do in the future?”

“I don’t know,” Tristan says, looking up at the ceiling. I can tell he’s really thinking about what I had asked.

“I like the internship. I mean, I really think I’m learning a lot,” he finally says. “I definitely want to do something with finance or investment banking in the future, I think. I’m just not sure about this particular job. Like the one that Kathryn has.”

Agh, Kathryn. Why did he have to bring her up?

“So how’s Kathryn? Did anything happen between you two?” I ask cautiously. I don’t want to seem too jealous or concerned. Just like I’m trying to make normal conversation.

“No.” He shakes his head definitively. “I’m sorry again about before.”

“What? What do you have to be sorry about?” I ask.

“Well, you know, I wasn’t entirely truthful back then. I mean, I knew that she liked me. Of course, I did. She told me. Even before she kissed me at the bar that time. And I told her about you. But…I guess I should’ve been even more clear.”

I nod. I feel very guilty. I need to tell him the truth. I know that. I owe him the truth. But now I’m even more scared than I was before. Now, I’m terrified. Even a few hours ago, he was sort of my ex. And now he’s back to being my boyfriend. I feel like I have the whole world on my shoulders – and it’s getting heavier and heavier by the minute.

“Alice?” Tristan turns to me.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay? You’re sort of spacing out for a bit.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, nodding. “It has been kind of a long day.”

“Okay.” He springs out of bed. “Why don’t you relax for a bit while I try to put a dent into that Macroeconomics problem set. And try being the operative word, of course.”

I smile and nod. I watch him get dressed. He gives me a peck on the cheek and leaves the room.

* * *

I am still lying naked in bed and listening to music when I hear Tristan call my name from the living room. It has only been ten minutes since he left, but I suddenly realize that I’m in Tristan’s room and Dylan might be back.

“Alice!” Tristan yells.

“What?” I call back, scrambling to put on my clothes. I manage to throw on my sweater and underwear, but I struggle with the jeans. Why did I have to wear skinny jeans today? Of all days!

“Alice!”

“I’m coming!”

I roll my bra into a little wad and hid it in my bag. Why can’t he just come over here? Why is he yelling like this?

When I walk into the living room, I see Tristan pacing back and forth.

“Tristan?” I ask.

He stops dead in his tracks. When he turns around, I see an expression on his face that I have never seen before. His eyes are empty, his lips are pursed and his cheeks are devoid of color. I think that someone has died.

“What’s wrong?” I run up to him. “Are you okay? What happened?”

I try to put my around him, but he shrugs me off.

“What’s this?” he says, waving something in my face. I take it out of his hand. It’s a postcard with a picture of a casino from Atlantic City. Oh wait. Not just some casino. The casino!

“I don’t know,” I say, putting on the most innocent look I can. “What is it?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Alice,” Tristan says, shaking his head. He hands me the postcard. I flip it around. And see it. Those words. They will probably stay with me always.

Dear Mr. Dylan and Mrs. Alice Summers Worthington,

Congratulations on your recent wedding. It was a pleasure to share this momentous occasion with you. We hope that you will join us again in the near future. As a thank you, we’d like to extend an invitation to you to stay at our hotel for a reduced priced.

There is more to it than that. The postcard offered us a 50% discount on all future bookings for the year. But, frankly, I stopped reading carefully after I saw the words Mrs. Worthington and wedding.

“Alice, what’s going on?” Tristan asks, taking the postcard out of my hand.