I looked at the ring again.
Tried to pull it off.
It didn’t budge.
Of course it didn’t budge. That would be too easy. The universe, her universe, the one that apparently had a personal vendetta against me, wouldn’t allow something that simple.
I pulled harder.
Still nothing.
It’s stuck. The ring is stuck. I’m stuck. I’m married, and the ring is stuck, and I can’t breathe and—“You know,” a sleepy voice said from behind me, “if you pull any harder, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
I froze.
Every muscle in my body locked up simultaneously.
She was awake.
I turned around very, very slowly.
She was sitting up in bed, the sheet pooled around her waist, completely and utterly naked from the waist up.
And she wassmiling.
Not a small smile. Not a sheepish “oops, this is awkward,” smile. A full, radiant, absolutely delighted smile, as if she’d justwoken up on Christmas morning to find that Santa had brought her everything she’d ever wanted.
“Good morning!” she said brightly. “How are you feeling? You drank alotlast night. I tried to tell you to slow down, but you were very determined. It was actually kind of impressive. I didn’t know someone could drink that much whiskey and still walk. Well, walk is maybe generous. You were more... ambulatory. With assistance.”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
She stretched—a full, unselfconscious stretch that involved her arms going over her head and her back arching—and then climbed out of bed.
Still naked.
Completely, entirely, absolutely naked.
And she just... walked across the room like this was perfectly normal. Like she woke up naked in strange hotel rooms every day and it was no big deal.
She picked up what I assumed was her dress from the floor—a flowy, colorful thing that looked like it had been designed by someone on hallucinogens—and held it up, examining it critically.
“This got a little wrinkled,” she said. “But that’s okay. Wrinkles add character. My sister Phoebe says wrinkles are just the universe’s way of showing that something has been lived in. Used. Loved. Which I think is beautiful, don’t you?”
I stared at her.
My brain had officially given up. It had filed for early retirement and moved to a beach somewhere where naked women didn’t parade around hotel rooms talking about the philosophical implications of wrinkled fabric. She draped the dress over a chair and padded, still naked, toward the bathroom.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she announced. “Do you want to join me? I know some people think showering together is just for romance, but I think it’s also very practical. Saves water. The universe appreciates conservation.”
“No,” I croaked.
It was the first word I’d managed to say since she’d woken up.
“Okay!” She disappeared into the bathroom, completely unbothered.
I heard the shower turn on.
