The Unhoneymooners

“This is so weird,” I say. “It would be so much easier to be snarky with each other.”

He nods, poking at his food. “I don’t have the energy to be snarky.”

“Me either.” I really just want to crawl across the floor and into his lap and have him tease me about my bra being too small or how I couldn’t stay away from him long enough to finish my dinner, but it’s like Dane and his fratty face are just parked here in between us, keeping us from being normal.

“I talked to Dane last night,” he says right then, adding, “late. I went over there late.”

Ami didn’t mention this. Did she even know that Ethan stopped by last night?

“And?” I say quietly. I have no appetite and basically just push a piece of beef around the plate.

“He was really surprised that that’s how you took what he said,” Ethan says.

Acid fills my stomach. “What a shock.”

Ethan drops his fork and leans back on both hands, staring at me. “Look, what am I supposed to do? My girlfriend thinks my brother hit on her, and he says he didn’t. Does it matter who is right here? You’re both offended.”

At this, I am incredulous. “You’re supposed to believe me. And it absolutely matters who’s right here.”

“Olive, we’ve been together for like two weeks,” he says helplessly.

It takes a few seconds for me to be able to unscramble the pile of words that falls into my thoughts. “I’m lying because our relationship is new?”

Sighing, he reaches up, wiping one hand over his face.

“Ethan,” I say quietly, “I know what I heard. He propositioned me. I can’t just pretend like he didn’t.”

“I just don’t think he meant what you thought he did. I think you’re primed to think the worst of him.”

I blink back down to my plate. It would be so easy to choose to make peace with Ethan and Ami and just say, “You know what? You’re probably right,” and just let it be, because after all this, of course I’m primed to think the worst of Dane, and I could easily give him a wide berth for the rest of time. But I can’t do that. There are too many red flags—why am I the only one who can see them? It’s not because I am a pessimist or look for the worst in people; I know that isn’t true about me, not anymore. I fell for Ethan on that island, after all. I’m excited about a job at Camelia so that I have time to really think about what I want my life to look like. I’m trying to fix all the parts of me that aren’t working because I know I have a choice in how my life goes—that it isn’t all luck—but as soon as I try to be proactive, it’s like no one wants to let me.

And why isn’t Dane here with Ethan, trying to make things right with me? Actually, I know why: He is so sure that no one will believe me, that everyone will think, Oh, Olive is just being Olive. Just believing the worst about everyone. My opinions are so inconsequential because in their eyes I’m always going to be the pessimist.

“Have you talked to Ami?” he asks.

I feel the way heat crawls up my neck and across my face. The fact that my twin is on Ethan and Dane’s side here is truly killing me. I can’t even admit it out loud, so I just nod.

“You told her about him dating other people before they were exclusive?” he asks. I nod again. “And about yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you weren’t going to say anything to her,” he says, exasperated.

I gape at him. “And I thought Dane wouldn’t hit on his wife’s sister. I guess we’ve both disappointed you.”

He stares at me for a long beat. “How did Ami take it?”

My silence clues him in that Ami didn’t believe me, either. “She didn’t know about the other women, Ethan. She thinks Dane has been committed since day one.”

Ethan looks at me pityingly and it makes me want to scream. “So you’re not going to be able to move past this?” he asks.

My jaw actually drops. “Which part? My sister’s husband cheating on her before they were married, your brother hitting on me, or my boyfriend not believing me about any of it?”

His gaze turns back to me, and he looks apologetic but unwavering. “Again: I don’t believe his intent was what you think it was. I don’t think he’d hit on you.”

I let him hear the shock in my voice. “Then you’re right,” I say. “I’ll have a hard time moving past this.”

When he leans forward, I think he’s going to dig into his plate, but instead he pushes to stand. “I really like you,” he says quietly. He closes his eyes and drags a hand through his hair. “I am crazy about you, actually.”