The Unhoneymooners

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off. It’s a testament to Ami’s inebriation that she doesn’t even

around, like he needs a witness to corroborate

I look up at him. “I mean it: that was an impressive apology. We can go back to being rude to each other for fun now.”

“What if I feel like being nice to each other for fun now?”

Gently, I kiss the corner of her mouth. “Wil you marry me, Oscar Olivia Torres?”
Her eyes close and a tear breaks loose. “Yes.”
Smiling, I kiss the other side of her mouth and then slide the ring on her finger.
We both look down at it. “Do you like it?”
Her voice shakes. “Um. Yeah. ”
“Are you usual y better at making conversation than you are with me?”
She laughs, tackling me. The sand is stil warm at my back, and this little bundle of fire is hot al along my front and I burst out laughing, too. What a ridiculous, sil y, mistake-ridden proposal that was.
It was absolutely perfect.

She squeals, rising to her knees to take the box. “For me?”
“I mean, only if you want it. I can go ask someone else if you—”
Olive shoves me, laughing. If I’m not mistaken, her eyes are a little misty. She opens the box and slides her hand over her mouth when she sees the delicate band lined with a halo of diamonds, the emerald-cut stone cradled in the center. I’l admit, I’m proud of myself—it is a pretty great ring.

I love our wild moments and our quiet ones. Love fighting and fucking and laughing with her. I love how easy we look side by side.

But then she turns and meets Olive’s gaze across the platform. I don’t need to understand secret twin telepathy to know that Ami isn’t just happy for her sister, she’s elated. Ami isn’t the only one who believes Olive deserves every bit of bliss this world has to offer. Seeing that tiny, salty woman crack up or melt or light up like a constel ation gives me life.
Now I just have to get her to agree to marry me

I knew she was Dane’s girlfriend’s twin—
but I wasn’t prepared for the freckles and how they moved with her smile, or the way adrenaline dumped into my veins when she pointed that smile at me and introduced herself.

“You think I’m cute?”
“In a gross way.”
He laughs at this, and it honestly sends a sharp pang through my chest how much I love that smile, on this face. “Cute in a gross way. Okay.”
“You’re the worst,” I growl, but I’m grinning and don’t pul away when he slides his hand to my hip.