“Allie. I don’t even know where to start.” “Clearly,” comes Garrett’s dry voice. “By the way, the answer is no. Go ahead and close that box.” I stare at the open jewelry box in my hand, all plush blue velvet and glittering diamond, trying to tamp down my frustration. I’m still kneeling in front of Garrett, former college roommate and best friend for life, in the living room of his expensive Boston brownstone, while our other best friend watches with amusement from the couch.
