The glass smeared under my weight.

“Vanessa picked up my wedding rings?” I asked.

“She had the receipt number,” the clerk said.

“She said she was running errands for the bridal party.”

“I didn’t give her the receipt number,” I said.

The clerk tapped his finger on the glass display case.

“She had a photo of the receipt on her phone,” he said.

I thought about the wedding binder sitting on my kitchen counter.