The Unhoneymooners

Diego standing on the other side. Twenty-eight, gay, and better groomed than I could ever manage,

I’m so used to seeing our faces together, so used to how she fits against my shoulder. I love her eyes and her skin and her smile. 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

It’s right then that I hold my phone up, snapping a selfie of Olive and me on the beach. The sky is a calming purple-blue. Her hair is blowing across her face, we’re both a little tipsy. Our feet are bare, toes digging in the warm sand, and the happiness in our expressions is palpable. It’s a great fucking photo.

I stare down at it, spinning a little inside

That really is a terrible color,” I say.

He laughs, giddy. “I know.”

“Like, it says a lot that even someone as cute as you can’t pull it off.”

I watch his smile turn into something heated and seductive. “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,”

Of course I am. The only thing better than you in that dress was you out of it.” Ethan stands, and now everyone is really looking at him.

I did,” he says. “And I miss you, so much. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

“Here?” I ask.

“Here.”

“While I’m working?”

“While you’re working.”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

He tries to wrestle his smile under control but I can see how much this exchange lights him up inside.

You fell in love with me?” I whisper

You fell in love with me?” I whisper

“Did we just decide something?” he asks.

I squeeze my eyes closed, grinning. “I think so.”

“Good. Because I’m sort of crazy about you.”

Holding my breath, I quietly admit, “I’m crazy about you, too.”

“We didn’t even like each other a week ago,” I remind him.

His mouth comes to a gentle landing on the side of my neck. “I think we should chalk all that up to a silly misunderstanding. Would it help if I treated you to cheese curds when we got home?”

“Yes.”

“You’d promise to share them with me?” He kisses me again.

“Only if you ask very nicely.”