I tap my glass to his with a reckless smirk, delirious in my own happiness and giving zero thought to anything else outside this moment. “Here we go again.”

Having been home from the rehearsal dinner for a half hour, I’ve come down from my Ryan-wants-to-move-to-New-York high long enough to realize that I have to tell him about Italy. As in now. I’m a pile of nerves and I have no clue how he’s going to react.

I get up from the couch when he walks into the apartment with a none-too-happy Duke huffing and puffing behind him from their before-bed walk.

“Hey,” I call out, holding my hands behind my back as Ryan unclasps the leash.

“Hey. You look comfy.”

I look down at my soft gray pajama pants and my emerald T-shirt.

“Yeah, whenever I have to get all dressed up for something I morph back into my true form in a matter of seconds once I get home. It’s my superpower.”

“I like it,” he says, seeming distracted. He’s breathing heavily but quickly as he crosses the room to me, so much so that I grab his hand.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I know he’s not. I sit back down on the couch and pull him down beside me, watching as he rubs sweaty palms against the front of his pant legs.

“You look on edge,” I say.

“I know, I’m sorry.” I try to smile and twist my hands together in my lap. Ryan notices. “You seem a little on edge yourself.”

I tug him closer. My grip is tight and my eyes are worried. “Honestly, I kind of am.”

“I am, too,” he admits. “I know I said at the rehearsal dinner that we’d talk about everything when we got home, so now is as good a time as any. Let me start by saying I—”

“Can I talk first?” I ask, interrupting. “I mean, it’s nothing crazy but something important slipped my mind and I think we should discuss it. In retrospect, I should have brought it up earlier, but I didn’t and now...yeah.”

“Okay,” Ryan says hesitantly, seeming confused.

“Right. So a few months ago, I was having a bit of a tough time with writing. I had just gone through my breakup and I was looking for a change of scenery, so I decided to take a trip.”

“Oh, yeah? Where’d you go?”

“No, I didn’t go anywhere then. I booked a trip that I’m going on soon. Two days after Cristina’s wedding. To Italy.”

Ryan moves forward on the couch, turning in towards me. I can see the underlying concern in his eyes. “How long are you going for?”

I pause. “Six months.”

Ryan’s face falls. My heart is pounding one second and slowing the next. Stopping and starting at the same time.

“Six months?” he asks.