Wednesday I nearly drove down to her place to camp out on her balcony, convinced that something was desperately wrong. I dreamed that night of the accident, our accident, blood on her face and her crumpled car, and woke up shaking. It was irrational, I knew, to think anything that serious had occurred; I’d have heard about it, somehow, by now. But the dream stole my sleep for the rest of the night.

Friday came around again, and still no Grace. I sent her flowers with a silly note, hoping to melt her a bit and elicit some response. Knowing she wouldn’t receive them until she got back from school, I drove into Beverly Hills to window shop, kicking myself for not being able to remember when her birthday was, or even whether she’d ever told me. I looked into the shops I passed, seeking something that suited her that I could buy as a gift, and remembered the day I’d brought her here for lunch. I’d offered to take her into the shops after lunch, and she’d laughed, saying something about how she’d never be given the time of day by the staff because she was so obviously not the type. After passing five shops I realized she was right—these clothes would never suit her. She would never have to try that hard.

I continued walking and found myself inside Tiffany. The concierge greeted me at the door and asked if there was something specific I was looking for. I opened my mouth to say, “Nothing,” and was surprised to find myself suddenly saying, “Engagement rings.” She nodded and led me to a case that ran the length of the room, introducing me to an elegant woman in black named Anya who stood behind the counter. Anya explained the various cuts and settings after I admitted my diamond ignorance, and by the time the concierge had returned with a flute of champagne, I’d already decided what to buy. After three sips of bubbly and a few thank-you checks written to the staff to make sure my purchase wasn’t made public, I was on my way out with a small blue box, wrapped with white ribbon, and a ridiculous grin on my face that I simply couldn’t shake.