Page 5 of Italy Can Bite Me

I feel a little tug in my chest. This is my Jared—the guy who once created an entire video presentation explaining why a T. rex couldn’t actually roar like inJurassic Park. How can I not love him?

“That’s fantastic! When is it? I’ll jot it down in our joint calendar. I’ve got us scheduled through—”

“Actually…” He grabs the back of his neck. “Harrison broke his ankle this weekend. They want me to go instead, to oversee putting together the exhibit.”

“Babe, congrats! I can add it to the Career Milestones section in our—”

“For the summer.”

My brain stutters to a halt like a printer running out of labels.

“The… the whole summer?”

“I know it’s a lot,” he says gently. “But this is huge, Katie. The kind of opportunity that usually takes years to land. And since we haven’t sent the invitations yet…”

“Haven’t sent—” I sputter.

Panic meter: Reactivated.

“Hear me out. We could treat it as an early honeymoon. London this time of year is beautiful. We just postpone the wedding until—”

“Postpone?!”

Internal panic level: Maximum… Critical…Oh my God, I forgot how to breathe!

“But the timeline!” My voice hits that special octave reserved for organizational emergencies. “The caterer! The DJ! Do you know how many favors I owe my boss?”

“I get it. You put a lot of work into this,” he says, reaching for my hand. “But sometimes the best things in life aren’t planned—”

“Not planned?” I laugh. “Jared, I have contingency plans for my contingency plans. What if it rains? What if there’s a heat wave? What if your grandpa chokes on a fish bone even though he requested the chicken? I’ve accounted for everything!”

“This is what I’m talking about.” He sighs. “Life doesn’t always follow a perfect schedule.”

“That’s precisely why we need one!” I grab my wedding binder, flipping rapidly through tabs. “Look, I’ve already mapped out each possible scenario. See? If we postpone, we lose our vendor deposits. The church’s next available date is in two years!”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he reaches under the coffee table and pulls out my secret binder. The one labeled:Katie and Jared’s Happily Forever After(Version 5.3 now with updated retirement projections).

My heart stops. Literally stops.

This isn’t just any binder—it’s my crowning achievement, my ultimate creation, my blueprint for a lifetime of marital happiness.

“What’s this?” He flips it open to the Future Offspring section. His brows shoot up at my elaborately crafted timeline. “Katie… is this a personality prediction chart for our unborn children?”

“C’mon, what’s wrong with preliminary research?” The words tumble out, desperate and defensive. “You can’t just wing parenthood. What if they end up playing—God forbid—the trombone instead of joining the museum’s junior curator program?”

Jared’s eyes nearly pop out of his head with every page he turns. “A forty-year sex schedule? ‘Sexy times Saturdays,’ ‘Will we or won’t we Wednesdays’? Sex windows around the kids’ activities? And when you think I’ll need Viagra? Are you serious?”

I try to play it cool. “Yeah. No. Maybe… Hey, Wednesdays and Saturdays are basically our sex schedule now. We could always spice things up with ‘Try for It Tuesdays.’”

“Katie.” Jared’s sigh feels heavier than my complete collection of binders. “I love your ambition. Your ability to look ahead, to plan for our future together—it’s part of what made me fall for you.”

I wince, bracing myself. This is not the first time friends(and family)have told me this.

Katie, you’re a bit much.

Hey Katie, can you tone it down a notch?

Watch out! It’s control-freak Katie!

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