I assumed we would all end the night the same way it began: a family toast without fanfare—a toast to me for my once-in-a-lifetime honor. Was my expectation self-indulgent? Of course. Absolutely. But just for one night out of thousands and thousands in my life, that was sort of the point, wasn’t it? Usually I’m showing up for other people’s indulgent parties, or doing nice things for them, or taking care of them, even though that’s my job. I shouldn’t have needed to make a special request for it to end in peace. It should have been a sleepy coda. Eventless. Pleasant. I don’t believe that’s asking too much. I don’t believe in too much of a good thing, or in cups running over—or rather, that overflow is dangerous—but Elizabeth must, because she hacked a leak into my nice evening, and now we’re up here arguing in coarse whispers behind a closed door.

“You’re acting crazy,” she tells me.

“It was a perfectly reasonable reaction,” I reply.

“It’s insane.”

“Insane? Sort of a hysterical choice of words, don’t you think?”

She huffs and abandons me to brush her teeth.

I’m not acting crazy. Maybe I misunderstood, but my initial assessment was fair and reasonable. What I saw is what seemed crazy. I’d gone out to the guesthouse to find her. Plain and simple. I’d been waiting forever for our cozy debrief. Fifteen minutes at least, maybe more. Plenty of time to deliver the laundry. And yes, I opened the door without knocking, because the guesthouse is my property, but she didn’t need to jump when I caught her leaning close to Nick, whispering numbers and watching him enter them into his phone. She yelped when she saw me. She shouted my name.

“Bobby!” She’d laughed. “You scared me.”

“What’s there to be afraid of?” I’d asked.

She told me Nick somehow never got the alarm code to the house, so she was making sure he had it. In case of an emergency. Well, he never got the code because no one ever gave it to him, mystery solved. But fine. It makes sense now. No big deal.

On the other side of the wall, Elizabeth spits toothpaste and begins to gargle. I throw my tuxedo shirt into the garbage and do my best to hang the rest, cummerbund and all, while shaping my argument. When she comes back into the bedroom and crosses her arms tightly against her chest, I state my case: “All I’m saying is, you don’t have to be so defensive.”

“Excuse me?”

“If it’s not a big deal, then why are you making it a big deal?”

“It’s not any sort of deal,” she says. “I’m just sorry to see you so insecure.”