The following morning, I sleep in late. The party raged on until after 3 am and I don’t get up until well after 10. My head is pounding. I wrap myself up in my robe and drag my feet into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. My thinking is all blurry and the light streaming through the windows is too bright. I pull the shades down. Plop. They make a loud noise, startling someone sleeping on the couch.

“What the hell?” he asks. I turn around. It’s Dylan. “Why are you making so much noise?” he asks with his eyes still closed.

“Why are you sleeping out here?” I ask, ignoring his question.

He doesn’t respond. I look at the door. And there, on the handle, I see a Do Not Disturb sign. But not just any sign. I’m well familiar with that one. That’s the Do Not Disturb sign that Tristan stole from the hotel room in Mammoth, California where we spent the weekend skiing and making love. That’s our Do Not Disturb sign.

Suddenly, the door opens. And Kathryn comes out. She’s wearing the dress she wore last night and holding her heels in her right hand. Her hair is disheveled and out of control. She’s wearing barely any makeup and the eyeliner that she has on looks like it was applied last night, but she still looks as beautiful as ever.

“Hey,” she says quietly.

“Hey,” I say, taking a deep breath.

I wait for her to run off and leave, but she doesn’t. She simply stands in the middle of the room waiting for something. But for what? She keeps eyeing the coffee pot. And then it occurs to me.

“Would you like some coffee?” I ask reluctantly.

“Oh, yes, please!” she says. A huge smile forms on her face. “I simply can’t function without it. I don’t think I would even be able to find my way home.”

I nod and pour her a cup of coffee.

“Hey, listen, I’m so sorry about last night.” Kathryn walks up to me. She puts her hand on my arm. Shivers run up my spine. I want to shrug her off, but I don’t want to be rude.

“What do you mean?” I manage to utter.

“You know, about Tristan making that whole scene. If I knew that he was planning on doing that…I would’ve never agreed to come.”

“Oh, that, yes. I understand,” I say with a nod.

“Can you two please take your chatter somewhere else? My head is killing me,” Dylan moans from the couch. He doesn’t bother to lift his head off the pillow and his words are muffled and barely comprehensible.

I’m about to reply, but then there’s a knock on the door.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Loud knocks, each one less patient than the last.

“Who could that be?” I ask rhetorically. I open the door. A man in an expensive suit and coat storms past me.

“Dylan! Dylan Worthington!” he yells at the top of his lungs.

Dylan opens his eyes and jumps back into the couch. There’s a sheer terror in his eyes. I look at the man before him. He’s fuming. It looks like smoke is about to come out of his ears, but his suit and tie and coat remain perfectly coiffed and put together. His newly shone shoes shine in the sunlight even though the streets are full of slush and sleet.

“What the hell are you thinking, Dylan?” the man yells, reaching for something in his front pocket.

“Dad—” Dylan says.

Ah, that’s who it is. Kathryn and I exchange looks.

“What is this?” Mr. Worthington waves a large piece of paper in Dylan’s face.

“What is it?” Dylan asks.

“This, my darling son,” Mr. Worthington says quietly, his voice saturated with sarcasm, “this is a bill from Tiffany’s.”

“Oh,” Dylan mumbles under his breath.

“So, imagine my surprise.” Mr. Worthington turns to Kathryn and I. I get the sense that this man is used to speaking to large groups of people and he relishes the sound of his voice, “when I walk into Tiffany’s this morning to buy a diamond ring for my future fiancée and discover that my son, Mr. Worthington, already has an account with them.”

“Shit,” Dylan says.

“Yes, that’s right. ‘Is something wrong with the other ring you purchased? Or would you like to exchange it?’ the nice woman at the counter asks me. I, of course, have no idea what she’s talking about. I haven’t been to Tiffany’s in years, not since Dylan’s mom and I divorced. So I have no idea what she’s talking about. So I ask her to educate me.”

“I’m sorry,” Dylan whispers.

“And you know what I find out?” Mr. Worthington asks. He’s speaking to everyone in the room, but he’s focused on me. “Do you?” he asks when I don’t respond.

“No,” I say, shaking my head.

“What I find out is that apparently I already bought a 2 carat diamond ring from them. Apparently, I had spent $40,000 there two weeks ago!”

“I can explain,” Dylan says with a whimper. But his dad doesn’t let him.

“A $40,000 ring? Are you insane, Dylan? An engagement ring should be two months of your salary. And the last thing I remember is that your salary last year was zero. A big fat zero. So what does that mean, Dylan? That means that the only ring that you could’ve gotten your Peyton is a ring pop. Because that’s all you can afford.”

“Not Peyton,” Juliet says. I don’t know how long she’s been standing there, but she’s never one to avoid drama.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Worthington asks.

“Dylan didn’t marry Peyton,” Juliet says, shaking her head. “He married Alice.”

“What?” Mr. Worthington yells. His face gets flushed and the pupils of his eyes dilate so much it looks like his eyes fill with blackness.

“Wait a second,” Dylan says. “Why did you go to Tiffany’s?”

What the hell is Dylan talking about? His dad is about to murder us all and he’s questioning him? I start to inch my way to the back of the room. If Mr. Worthington explodes, I want to be as far away from him as possible.

“I’m going to ask Cynthia to marry me,” Mr. Worthington announces.

“What?” Dylan asks.

Just at that moment, the door to his room opens and Tristan comes out. Perfect timing. As usual.

“Cynthia? You’re going to ask Cynthia to marry you? Are you insane?” Dylan asks. He’s no longer a scared little boy afraid to make his father mad. He’s now standing right in front of his dad, challenging him. He’s indignant and his mouth is full of anger and venom.

“Yes, Cynthia.” Mr. Worthington shrugs. He looks as surprised by Dylan’s temperament as we all are.

“Cynthia is four years older than I am,” Dylan turns to me and explains. “She’s 23 years old. And my dad apparently doesn’t think that there’s anything inappropriate in that.”

“Age is just a number,” Mr. Worthington says.

“Yeah right,” Dylan says.

“But hey, why are you questioning me anyway? I wasn’t the one who secretly got married to a stranger and got her a…” Mr. Worthington looks down at the piece of paper in his hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that a picture of my ring at the top. “The 2 carat Tiffany Embrace diamond ring,” he reads from the print out. “It’s bead-set diamonds exquisitely accentuate a round brilliant center stone in a setting that evokes glamour and romance. All for a price of $44,100! And you two were engaged for how long? An hour?”

“You got her a 44 thousand dollar ring?” Juliet whispers. Her eyes light up and I think she’s going to faint.

Honestly, the ring looked nice, but I had no idea it was so much money.

“And you know what the best thing is? He put it on his father’s credit card. How perfect is that?” Mr. Worthington says sarcastically.

“He got you an engagement ring?” Tristan asks quietly. His voice is barely audible, but everyone turns to look at him.

“I’m not going to keep it,” I say. It’s the only thing I can say.

“You got her an engagement ring?” he asks Dylan.

“So what?” Dylan asks. He’s taken aback, I can tell, but I get the feeling that he’s not apologizing as long as his dad’s here.

“So what?” Mr. Worthington yells. “I was going to get my actual fiancée a $30,000 ring, but my son went out and splurged on 44-grand of my money on some stranger!”

“She’s not a stranger,” Dylan says. “Alice this is my dad, Mr. Worthington. Dad, this is Alice Summers. My roommate and wife.”

“Oh please,” Mr. Worthington rolls his eyes.

“What? You think this marriage is a joke? Well, it’s not,” Dylan says with a shrug.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I whisper.

“Look, Dylan, even your wife knows it’s a joke.” Mr. Worthington laughs.

“Well, it’s not. I wanted to marry her and I did. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

I shake my head. No, no, no. What is he talking about? Suddenly, my whole body starts to shake uncontrollably. I turn to Tristan. He can’t actually believe this. Why is Dylan doing this? But Tristan just grabs his jacket and walks out. I follow him. I can’t stay in that room any longer.

“Tristan! Tristan!” I run after him catching him by the elevator. “Please, wait,” I say. The button pointing down is lit up and I know we don’t have much time.

“He gave you a ring?” he asks. There is sadness on his face. And disappointment. It looks like he’s going to cry at any moment. He takes a deep breath, trying to hold back tears.

“He got me a ring. But I’ve already given it back to him. We’re getting a divorce. This all has been a terrible mistake,” I say. I’m speaking fast, a little fast, but I want to be able to get everything out before the elevator comes.

“He got you a ring, Alice,” Tristan says with a shrug. As if that means something. As if it signifies something important. “And a really expensive ring,” he adds.

“So what? That’s Dylan. If he gets something then he goes all out. But it doesn’t mean a thing. I don’t care about that ring.”

“It’s a 2-carat ring, Alice. It cost almost 50 thousand dollars.”

“It was just a splurge. A mistake from a night full of mistakes,” I say. “Why does it matter what kind of ring it is?”

The elevator doors open.

“I don’t know,” Tristan says, stepping inside. “But it does.”

The elevator doors close and he disappears, leaving me alone. I’ve never felt so alone before. This is over. Really over. My legs crumple underneath me. I drop to the floor. Tears rush down my face. I can’t stop them even if I want to. I just let them wash over me. Maybe they can wash away my mistakes. Probably not.