Tonight was the night; I knew it...

I checked my outfit in the mirror, turning left and right. I'd made the deep purple cocktail dress myself, a project that had remained half-finished until I accidentally saw my boyfriend's credit card statement at the end of last week. The line halfway down... Thierry Tamaki Fine Jewellery, $7,000. Ever since Seb had made junior partner at Kerchner, Howard and Ward two months ago, he'd been a little uptight, but maybe the thought of commitment had added to his anxiety?

When I'd told Paisley, who I'd known forever—well, since our first day of high school, but it felt like forever—she'd shrieked like a mortally wounded puppy. Which had been awkward, seeing as we were drinking coffee in Café au LA at the time. I'd choked on my blueberry muffin, and a passing server thumped me on the back until crumbs flew everywhere. Every single person turned to stare. At which point, Paisley made things worse.

"My bestie's getting married!"

"Well, I'm not sure..."

"Oh, c'mon. You're gonna say no?"

Of course I wasn't. Nothing would make me happier than becoming Mrs. Sebastian Milner. Sure, I was young, only twenty-one, and people had warned me about older men, but we'd been dating for two years. And my sister, my perfect sister, had given birth at my age before finishing law school and embarking on a successful career. Everyone was allowed to make a mistake in life, she said. It was how you dealt with the knocks that mattered. Personally, I wouldn't have called my own flesh and blood a mistake, but Virginia always had been blunt to the point of insensitivity. Anyhow, she'd married Maggie's father and lived happily ever after. Why couldn't I?

"Seb hasn't asked yet," I hissed at Paisley. And I hadn't meant to snoop through his finances, I swear, but he'd asked me to pick up his dry-cleaning and grab a tub of low-fat yogurt from Whole Foods, and the credit card statement was right there on the counter next to the refrigerator. "We're going out for dinner tonight."

"There's only one reason a man spends seven thousand bucks in a jewellery store, babe. Hey, can we get a couple of those champagne cupcakes?"

The cupcakes had been on the house, and my cheeks burned as all the staff congratulated me on my upcoming engagement. But inside, I was buzzing. For two years after I graduated high school, I'd been lost, working in a clothing boutique with no real clue what I wanted to do with my life. It was Seb who'd told me I needed a goal, who'd encouraged me to go to college and follow my dreams. He was the reason I was a quarter of the way to becoming a fashion designer. Sure, he could be distant at times, but he worked hard, and maybe now that he'd been promoted, he'd begin to relax? Last week, he'd been talking about taking up golf.

Anyhow, I loved him, and by the time I'd finished my cupcake, I was as excited as Paisley. I just had to wait for him to pop the question.

As I walked into The Oyster Club that evening, the butterflies began fluttering. Would he ask before the entrée or wait until dessert? I'd googled proposal etiquette, and it seemed that either was acceptable. I'd also begun designing my wedding dress (a princess gown with a sweetheart neckline), planning which flowers I wanted (ranunculus, sweet peas, and eucalyptus), and wondering where we'd choose to live. Would I move into Seb's apartment? Or would we buy a new place together?

Seb rose to greet me with a kiss on the cheek, a little stiffly it seemed, but I put it down to nerves. What man wouldn't be apprehensive before making the biggest romantic gesture of his life?

"How was work?" I asked. "Is that a new tie?"

"I landed a big account today. Outside general counsel for Nutrozoom."

"That's terrific."

"Indeed. The company has some challenging legal issues, but I'm looking forward to getting my teeth into them. The firm's put a lot of trust in me." He waved a waiter over. "Could we get a dozen cherrystone clams, two orders of the lobster linguine, and a bottle of champagne?"

Champagne? Yes, things were definitely headed in the right direction.

"Planning a celebration tonight?"

"The Nutrozoom account will be worth high six figures over the next year. Possibly even seven."

Okay, so he wasn't quite ready to hand over the ring yet.

"Nutrozoom... Isn't that the company with the poisoned energy bars?"

"Alleged poisoned energy bars. Nothing's been proven. Terminology is important, Ally."

"Sorry, alleged poisoned energy bars." Six online influencers had ended up in the hospital, and one had died. Now I understood why this account would be worth so much money. "But didn't they find listeria in the samples?"

The story had been all over the news.

"There could have been malicious tampering, or contamination in the lab, or falsification of results. Everybody is entitled to a fair investigation. But I shouldn't be discussing client business over dinner—how was your day?"

"Oh, not too bad. Today's colour innovation class was—"

Seb's phone buzzed, and he held up a hand. "Just a second, I have to take this."

In hindsight, I realised that moment was one more red flag in the sea of banners that had been waving at me for the past eighteen months. Banners with slogans like "Run!" and "Seb's a self-centred asshole," and "Drink a margarita—you deserve it." But at the time, I'd been lowered into the relationship like a slowly boiling frog, and I still thought the sun shone out of Seb's over-inflated ego.

High on hope in The Oyster Club, I remained blissfully unaware. And it was a beautiful restaurant, fancier than we usually went to, with a glowing pond full of oysters in the middle of the room. A delicate waterfall tumbled at one end, a soft backdrop to the classical music, and I wondered if those particular oysters would find their way onto the menu or whether they were just for decoration. When Seb didn't come back immediately, I flipped through the menu. Diners picking the seven-course chef's choice selection received a free pearl accessory with their meal—earrings or a necklace for the women, cufflinks for the men.

The clams arrived, served with lemon and cocktail sauce, and I wrinkled my nose. I didn't actually like clams. Or even oysters. I'd eaten them a couple of times with Seb, and I just held my breath and pretended they were jello shots. Lobster linguine was all right, but I'd have preferred the club burger. Okay, I'd actually have preferred to go to Five Guys, but Seb didn't do fast food. I had to get my fries fix with Paisley, and she was always happy to grab dinner after I'd finished college and she'd finished work. She was living the Hollywood dream as an assistant stylist in Hollywood, and usually she loved her job, but not this month. No, this month she was running around after Velvet Jones, who was a total diva from the frosted blonde tips of her glossy hair to her pedicured-every-two days toes.

Should I open the champagne? The delay was doing nothing for my stress levels, and I needed a drink to take the edge off. I was just about to reach for the bottle when Seb finally returned.

"You didn't have to wait for me. Clams are best served chilled."

"Sorry." I'd replayed the conversation a hundred times in my head since that night. Why had I been the one apologising? "Is everything okay? With the call, I mean."

"Oh, fine, fine. George Janson wanted to know if I could play tennis next week, but I'll be too busy with work."

Seb started on the clams, and by dithering, I managed to get away with eating only two while he ate ten. How had a discussion about tennis taken twenty-five minutes? I was still puzzling over that when he waved to the waiter again.

"Could you open the champagne? Pour a generous glass for my guest."

Another red flag. Guest, not girlfriend. How dumb had I been?

"Ally, there's something we need to talk about."

This was it.

"Yes?"

"I think we should take a break."

Like a honeymoon? "A break where?"

We'd spent two weeks in Antigua last year, and although Seb had holed up in the hotel's business centre for most of the second week dealing with a client emergency, I'd had a great time learning to windsurf. That wasn't to say I was good at it, but I'd been able to stay on the board by the end of the trip.

"A break from each other."

I'm sorry, what?

A break from each other?

At first, I thought I must have misheard, but Seb just sat there, hands steepled, fidgeting slightly as I processed his words.

"Are you...are you breaking up with me?"

"I'm moving on to a different stage in my life, Ally. We had fun, but now I need someone more...sophisticated."

"Sophisticated?"

"A partner who'll fit in at work events. You're still customising T-shirts and going roller-skating with Paisley."

He managed to make her name sound like an insult.

"I'm studying fashion design. Of course I make my own freaking clothes. And Paisley's fun."

"Paisley's immature. She still shops from the bargain section at Always 21, for goodness' sake."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. How had I been so stupid, so blind to what Seb had turned into? Two years ago, he'd tried rollerblading and, okay, he'd scraped the knees out of his pants, but he hadn't laughed at the idea. And back then, he'd bought cheap suits off the rack from Suit Express and gotten me to tailor them.

Now?

Now, his good-guy mask had finally slipped to reveal the jackass underneath.

"You brought me to this snobby restaurant to tell me that? Why didn't you embrace your blossoming assholia and send a damn email?"

"I'd hoped you might make less of a scene in public."

He wanted me to go quietly? No, I don't think so.

"Screw you."

I threw my champagne over him, then poured another glass and drank it, ignoring his muttered curses as he dabbed at his pants with a napkin. Then I poured a third glass and threw that too.

"For heaven's sake, Ally, calm down. It's well known that every man has a starter girlfriend before he upgrades to someone more long term."

A starter girlfriend? Was this what partners at Kerchner, Howard and Ward talked about on their corporate retreats? They probably sat through a Powerpoint presentation as part of their training.

"Calm down? Calm down? You just upended my life, and you want me to calm down?" I put my hands on my hips. "So, have you already met her?"

"Met who?"

"Don't play dumb. Have you met Ms. Sophisticated?"

"Of course I haven't. I'm not a cheat."

"Then who was the jewellery for?"

"What jewellery?"

"You spent seven thousand bucks at Thierry Tamaki, and don't try to say you didn't because I saw your credit card statement."

"Thierry Tamaki? Oh, that was my new pen."

"A pen? You spent seven thousand bucks on a pen?"

"I just made partner, Ally. And it wasn't just any pen—it was a limited edition fountain pen with a sold gold nib, and I deserved it."

Hello, my name is Alabama Rockingham, and I'm a complete idiot.

I reached for the bottle of champagne again, but Seb grabbed it first. Fortunately, the lady at the next table held out a glass of red, and I took full advantage of her generosity. Seb wouldn't be wearing that shirt again. There was a smattering of applause as I fled the restaurant in tears, and in a final indignity, I twisted my ankle as I stumbled down the steps outside.

With the valet and several bemused diners as my witnesses, I was never getting tangled up with a man again.