I can’t breathe as I watch Blake’s face for flickers of expression. It wouldn’t be surprising, after all, if he preferred a stuffy ballroom uptown somewhere—or worse, a beloved family venue in Massachusetts.

“Hmmm,” he says, tilting his head.

Blake pulls the computer onto his lap and clicks around on the site to see more photos. I try to breathe. Up until this point, I truly hadn’t considered a plan B. I’ve pulled off the impossible again and again: finding a ridiculously eligible boyfriend at the exact moment I needed one, having him fall in love with me, and even proposing with the ring of my choice. I’m a goddamn fantasy machine—if something as mundane as Blake’s taste in wedding venues throws me off course now, god help me.

“It’s nice,” Blake says finally. “I’ve been to the rooftop, actually, for a friend’s birthday. The view is sick. But I guess it’d depend on how much it costs.”

“Oh! My parents would pay for it,” I fib. “They paid for Sophie’s venue. Tradition, you know?”

“That’s incredibly nice of them. I mean, this place is sweet. I’d be down to consider it, for sure.”

“I’m going to send them an email, if that’s cool?” I ask. “I’ll see what dates they have open.”

“Cool,” he says.

I type up a quick email to the hotel staff while Blake watches over my shoulder. I can’t let him see me not hit Send; I cast around for any excuse to get him away from me.

“Hey, would you mind turning on the AC?” I ask. “It’s getting kind of stuffy in here.”

He hops up from the bed, and I close out of the message. I can tell him the truth eventually—I’m just not ready to share it with him now.

“Sent,” I say. “I’ll let you know what they say.”

He sits back down, slides an arm around me, and pulls me close. He buries a groan into my shoulder. “I didn’t realize how much there would be to think about now! Budget, venues, caterers, groomsmen, and whatever else is probably on your secret Pinterest board?”

It works in my favor that he thinks I’ve been dreaming about my wedding forever, so I go along with it.

“I’ve got, like, half that stuff covered. Pinterest rules,” I say. But his point jogs something important. “Actually, speaking of that, there’s one thing we should probably get out of the way now.”

“Yeah?” He shifts to get a better view of my face.

“I want a prenup.”

Blake’s face falls. “You’re thinking ahead to divorce already?”

“No, no, no,” I say. “Not at all. But I’m just trying to think practically here to protect both of our businesses. This isn’t about our relationship—it’s about our careers.”