And back to L.A. we go. Well, it sure does look like Trista (I'm so, so, SO sorry to evoke the evil that is She Who Must Not Be Named And Who Is Probably No Longer Married, but I swear it's important and you and I have a connection, so don't be mad, okay?) and her wedding worked out a sweet deal with the Tacori people, because Harry Winston is out as the resident Ring To Be Hocked Later Shop and Tacori is in. Meredith enters the place and sits down with her very own Mr. Tacori, just as you or I would. She picks out a three and a half carat princess cut diamond, which, he editorializes, "is fit for a princess." Which is why it's not called a three and a half carat walrus cut diamond. Stick with me. It's almost over.
Back at the house, Meredith decides to forgo her usual store of Venus Fly Turtlenecks for a lower-necked jobby I thought was better, but which caused Beth to observe, "Nah. That neckline looks like it's trying to run away from her." So true. SO true. Ian's car is soon to pull up, and he enters Meredith's manse to great big hugs. He takes off his coat to reveal a black t-shirt with diagrams of knots on it. I know. Go back. Read it again. It will say exactly the same thing. A black t-shirt with diagrams of knots on it. His last night to woo her and he shows up wearing a Boy Scouts training manual on his front side. He throws cheese all over a pizza they're cooking together and tells her about his summer in Greece. You're debonair. We get it. Suddenly, he brushes Meredith's hair off her face and kisses her. There should be rules about that posted somewhere. Y'all should both be netted. Ian goes to retrieve the pizza, which is all stuck to the brick thing and is burnt as hell. Meredith decides to make the best of it by retiring to the bedroom, where she asks Ian if he has worry or anxiety about anything in his life, and he considers his current state of affairs -- "I am rich and beautiful" -- and announces that the scan has come back clear of stress. He tells Meredith, "I have no responsibility right now." Yeah, actually, that would probably keep me from feeling too much anxiety either. But that means he wants to continue on the slacker path, and he worries that a wife and kids might lead to his getting tied down. He suggests, "We can just be complete bums for a while. What do you say?" She says nothing. She needs "someone who has specific goals." Like, for example, how to tie a clove hitch. He plays with her hair and tells her how easy she's made this process for him, but admits that it's hard for him that this could be the last night that they spend together. She tells him that she's "taking it one step at a time," and he laughs off the bullshit reality rhetoric with an incredulous "The step is two days from now." In flashback, she asks if she should go for what is "stable" or what is "passionate." Just go for one-dimensionality. It's the only way to define you. As long it's good TV. Or whatever this is. Outside, Ian does the head-shake thing to her and offers a "goodnight, baby" as Ian's car pulls away. Forever.