Page 6 of Italy Can Bite Me

“Okay, I admit I got a little intense with the planning, but think about how happy we’ll be when everything goes exactly according to schedule!”

“This level of hyper-planning? It’s suffocating. I can’t spend the rest of my life with a person who can never be spontaneous.”

“I scheduled spontaneity! Alternating Sundays between five and six—”

“See, this is what I mean!” He jumps up, raking his hands through his hair. “Every little thing, every tiny decision, every freaking breath has to be scrutinized, organized, and tucked away in one of your ridiculous binders. It’s too damn much!”

My chest constricts. Each breath feels like swallowing glass. But I won’t cry. I refuse to let him see me cry. “Because that’s how you build a life together! How else can you make sure nothing goes wrong, nothing falls apart, nothing—”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.” His voice goes soft, and holy hell, that’s so much worse than the yelling. “We need to take a break. A total break.”

He won’t look at me.Why won’t he look at me?

“And I… I need the ring back, Katie.”

The ring.

My engagement ring.

The same ring I’ve cleaned every Sunday for the past two years. The ring I’ve built an entire future around. The ring that’s supposed to have its own photoshoot at our wedding, perched perfectly on my bouquet while I stand in the golden sunset wearing ivory silk.

Oh.

Fuck.

The room tilts sideways. This isn’t happening. Thiscan'tbe happening. I have plans. Beautiful, detailed, laminated plans. There’s no tab in my wedding binder for “Surprise! Your Fiancé Just Torpedoed Your Entire Future!”

I want to scream. To tell him my binders aren’t just binders—they’re promises. Every tab, every schedule, every color-coded note is just another way of saying I love you. I choose you. I want forever with you.

But he’s already walking away.

There’s no contingency plan for this.

CHAPTER TWO

KATIE

Iblinkrapidly,honest-to-Godhoping I’m trapped in some kind of13 Going on 30body-switch dream. Nope. I am in my childhood bedroom. My gaze bounces between the pastel purple lilac wallpaper, the matching comforter, and the identical curtains(okay, Mom, it was a phase). There’s a box of unfinished wedding invitations staring me in the face, and it’s a harsh reminder that this is, undeniably, present day.

My phone buzzes. Again. Then again.

Group Chat: CPK Forever

Petra:Quick poll. Who wants to burn Jared’s ugly-ass ties?

Cam:We can turn it into a party. I’ll bring BBQ pizza! And tissues. And maybe those cute little paper umbrellas that make everything more festive?

Petra:Change of plans. We’re taking you out and finding you a hot piece of ass. We need a full-on, revenge sex-travaganza!

Cam:Hell yeah, I’m in! And while we’re at it, find me a man. It’s been a hot second, and this girl has needs.

Me:Guys, I’m fine! Jared needs a little space, so I’m taking some me-time to reassess.

The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but it’s easier than admitting I’m falling apart. I view my reflection in the dresser mirror, and honestly? I look like I just survived a three-day music festival in the desert. Not cute.

Petra:Bull. Shit.

Petra:No one’s “fine” after their fiancé goes full dickbag.

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