“No. Just for the dinner tomorrow. The navy one with a white button-down. Pack the light blue tie. We’ll keep the school visit casual. Jeans and maybe that checkered button-down you have hanging in your closet. White sneakers. Fitz?” Parker asks when I grow quiet for a moment. “Are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m here. I was just swooning.”

Parker giggles. “Swooning?”

I sigh happily. “You’re killing me with this wife behavior. Telling me where to be and what to wear? That’s dirty talk for a traditional guy like me.”

God, I miss her laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.” Parker pauses for a beat before she drops her voice and huskily whispers, “Wear the dress socks with the Rebels emblem on them.”

I let out an overenthusiastic groan. “I didn’t anticipate phone sex when I answered before, but⁠—”

“By the way.” Parker interrupts me. “Your mom RSVP’d to the engagement party.”

The next groan I let out is less enthusiastic. “Bringing up my mom right now is a good way to kill the mood. And I know she did. I already booked her tickets and hotel.”

Now it’s Parker who grows quiet.

“Oh.” I read her lack of response. “You’re nervous.”

I don’t know why. The idea of Parker nervous to see my mom has me all kinds of giddy, even though they’re not strangers. But maybe that’s the problem. The idea Parker has of my mother is that she viewed Parker as not fit to be my friend, so in what world would it be okay for her to be my wife?

I shift side to side. My ass is falling asleep from sitting on the floor for so long. “Parker, your mother makes mine look like the Dalai Lama.”

A fit of hysterical laughter erupts over the call. “I know, it’s just⁠—”

“That was years ago,” I tell her, even though what I should tell her is that my mom really had nothing to do with me pulling away. “We were kids. I promise, it’s going to be okay. She won’t be nasty. Not to your face,” I tease before adding, “And I’ll be with you.”

The sigh of relief Parker lets out is so soft I nearly miss it.

“You didn’t tell me. What’s the bad news?”

I grimace, looking at the coffee table. “Oh. I was hoping you’d be so excited to see me you’d forget all of that.”

“Fitz. You’re making me more nervous.”

“Can we go back to you ordering me around?” I ask. “I think we both liked that better.” When she doesn’t answer, I continue, begrudgingly, “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not before we get married,” Parker jokes. “Come on, tell me.”

I shift my jaw back and forth. “I kind of lost a piece to the puzzle we started before you left.”