I still have my Spanx if I need them.

“Where’s Chantal?” I ask Jace as soon as he’s settled into the couch with a fresh beer. After the movie wrapped, I expected the girl he’s been seeing to hang out with us a bit, but he’s empty-handed whenever we get together.

He shrugs. “She went home for Christmas. Decided to stay there for a bit.”

“How long is ‘a bit’?”

“I think permanently.”

Landon shifts under me, and I lock eyes with him long enough for him to give me the neck-slicing gesture. Okay, no more Chantal questions.

“It’s back on,” Alec says, and all our attention goes to the game. Well, minus Landon, who is running a hand up and down my thigh. He gives me a half-smile when I catch his gaze, then he shakes his head and sighs.

He’s been acting weird all night. Well…actually…he’s been acting weird since the naked argument. I can feel the shift in our relationship, too, and I don’t even know what it is. We touch and kiss and cuddle, but there hasn’t been that desire for more, and honestly, I don’t remember the last time we talked. Like, really talked. And bitterly I think maybe we’re already married and we don’t even know it.

He sighs again, and so I lean in close to his ear. “What’s up, Buttercup?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

He does another half-smile, then slides his phone out and shows me a text from his sister.

Hey. Mom and Dad want to talk to you. If I were you I’d stop by the hotel and just hash it out. Don’t bring Liz.

Well, isn’t that just peachy? I try to force a smile, even though my stomach feels like that salsa was made out of Legos, and say in a singsong whisper, “You’re in trouble.”

“Probably,” he says, sliding his phone into his pocket. He’s not even teasing me back, so I drop the playfulness, settle my head on his shoulder, and give him a good squeeze.

“Do you want to go?” I ask.

“No.”

“Do you think you should?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be okay here.”

He sighs, breath warming my forehead, and then he gently strokes my hair. “It may be a while.”

“Hey, Alec?” I say, adjusting on Landon’s lap. “Be my chauffeur again? Landon has to visit his parents and I don’t want to be in the line of fire.”

He laughs around his beer and nods. I turn back to Landon with a smile. It’s one of those scared-as-hell smiles I’ve pretty much been wearing this entire engagement.

“Go. Hear what they have to say. And don’t call off the wedding unless they offer you a million dollars.”

“Ten million.”

“Glad to know what I’m worth.”

He gives me his sort-of-laugh, the one I’ve been hearing for weeks now, and then nudges me from his lap. He doesn’t kiss me goodbye, and I don’t move to kiss him either, and the sad thing is I don’t notice until he’s been gone for at least ten minutes.

We are peas and carrots.

“It’s not you,” Alec says, pulling my attention from wherever my brain was wandering.

“Huh?”

“Landon’s mom wouldn’t have approved of anyone.”

“She sure seemed fond of his exes.”

Jace snorts, kicking his feet out and leaning back into the couch.

“What are you laughing at?” I ask him.

“Nothing. I’ve just met some of those exes and there was nothing to be ‘fond’ of. Mom Wangford is just trying to unhinge you.”

I know that, but it doesn’t make me feel better.

“You don’t think he’ll call it off, do you?”

Jace snorts again, and Alec shakes his head.

“Honestly, I think he’s more worried about you calling it off.”

“Me? Why?”

Alec shrugs, but Jace doesn’t catch it and starts spouting off what I’m sure Landon had under the “bro code.”

“He saw that list you keep on your computer. Said you were scared of vegetables or something, and he just doesn’t have the balls to talk to you about it.”

My mouth drops open. I knew I shouldn’t have added that Hurdle. It’s not that being peas and carrots is necessarily a deal-breaker. It’s that it totally sucks to be peas and carrots.

“Shit.”

Jace shakes his head, reaching over to pat my knee. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Landon was nearly pissing himself before he proposed, but then he’d look at your ring and he was excited about strapping on the ball and chain.”

“There you go,” Alec says. “Just stare at his wedding ring and you’ll feel better.”

I nearly tumble out of the recliner. Oh, sweet balls, no.

“His ring.”

Jace lifts his eyebrows while Alec furrows his.

“Um, what?”

I continue to choke on my own breath as I stare blankly at both of them.

“Landon’s ring. I have to buy him a ring.”

“Yeah…?” Jace says, but Alec slams his eyes shut and releases a long breath because he knows. He knows what’s playing in my mind. The decreasing number in the honeymoon fund, the lack of income even with the overtime, and Landon’s empty left hand at the altar. I grab onto the arms of the recliner, try to balance myself, but I can’t. I slump to the floor. I hear Alec softly tell Jace, “Money, dude.”

My vision goes in and out of focus as I shake my head. How could I forget about his ring? I’ve had mine for months, twisting it, cleaning it, showing it off, staring at it, hugging it, and I hadn’t given one thought about putting one on his finger. Now we’re only a week away.

What am I going to do? It’s the ring or the honeymoon. You can’t have a wedding without rings. But you can’t have a wedding without the honeymoon. I feel the weight of a thousand Hurdles pound on my back, turning me into a rambling idiot on Jace’s floor, going on and on about all the meaningless wedding chores I gave myself. The no-sex rule, the wedding dress fiasco, the damn upside-down turkey, and how it means nothing now because I can’t buy my fiancé his ring.

Both guys look at me like they have no clue how to handle a woman and have been winging it up until this point. Jace clears his throat, pulls his phone out, and steps from the room while Alec pats my back. He keeps saying he’ll advance my paycheck, offer more hours, but I’m shaking my head because all the money from my paychecks needs to go into rent, utilities, food, normal grown-up things, and I suddenly feel so not ready for it at all.

“Beth Ann,” Jace says, tapping my shoulder and holding his phone out to me. I take it and try to steady my breathing.

“Hello?” I say into the receiver.

“Once upon a time, there was a boy with no fingers.”

“Landon—”

“And he desperately wanted just one…only one finger.”

“Your finger story will not change the fact that we—”

“On certain days, he desired a thumb. Days when his buddies would give him thumbs-up or when his friends played Thumbs Up, Seven Up, or had thumb wars. And he would make a wish to the skies for a thumb. But it never happened.

“Then, when he became a teenager, he wanted a middle finger to effectively describe how he felt toward certain things. All the other kids were doing it, and he’d love to stick it to someone like that. But of course, that wish went ignored, too.”

“He wished to give people the bird?” I say, and I feel myself wanting to laugh, but maybe I’ve forgotten how.

Landon ignores me. “He became a man, and fell in love with an out-of-his-league woman, and he desperately wanted a finger. And not to do what I know you’re thinking, dirty woman, but to wipe her tears away, to prod her chin, to link just one finger with hers. He begged the stars for one finger. Even just a pinky. But they didn’t answer.

“Then their wedding day came. The bride helped him button his shirt, tie his tie, and then kissed him on the lips. He cupped her face in his palms, all fingers gone, wishing out loud that he had just the one finger on his left hand so the world would know his heart had been stolen. And his bride brought her own finger to his lips and said, ‘The world will know because I will always be with you.’ She sealed it not with a ring, but with a promise in front of all their friends and family. And the man never felt the need to wish for another finger in his lifetime.”