The Unhoneymooners

“I’m his wife, Ami.” Ami stretches out her hand. “Which one are you?”

“Which one am I?” the woman repeats, too thunderstruck to return Ami’s handshake. She glances at Dane, and her face pales, too. “I’m Cassie.”

Dane turns, ashen, and stares at my sister. “Babe.”

For once, I see Ami’s jaw twitch at the pet name, and I want to shoot a rocket of joy into the sky because I knew she hated it and just pretended to like it! Twin powers for the win!

“Excuse me, Dane,” Ami says sweetly, “I’m in the middle of introducing myself to one of your girlfriends.”

I can see the panic in his eyes. “Babe, this totally isn’t what you think.”

“What do I think it is, babe?” she asks, eyes wide with faux-curiosity.

Another car pulls into the driveway, and a woman slowly emerges, taking in the scene in front of her. She looks like she just got off work: she’s wearing nurse’s scrubs and her hair is in a bun. It occurs to me that this is not how you dress for someone you’re trying to impress; it’s how you dress for someone you’ve known for a long time and are comfortable around.

I can’t help but glare at Dane. What a complete dirtbag.

Ami looks at me over her shoulder and says to me, “That must be Trinity.”

Oh my God. My sister is currently blowing up Dane’s game, and she doesn’t even need a checklist to do it. This is nuclear-level madness.

Dane pulls Ami aside, leaning down to meet her eyes. “Hey. What are you doing, hon?”

“I thought I should meet them.” Her chin shakes, and it’s painful to watch. “I saw the messages on your phone.”

“I haven’t—” he starts.

“Yeah,” Cassie says quietly. “You have. Last week.” She looks at Ami, then at me. “I didn’t know he was married. I swear I had no idea.”

She turns and makes her way back to her car, passing the other woman, who’s stopped several yards away. I can tell from Trinity’s expression that she’s figured out what’s happening here.

“You’re married,” she says flatly, from a distance.

“He’s married,” Ami confirms.

Trinity looks back at Dane when he sits down on the doorstep and puts his face in his hands. “Dane,” she says. “This is so fucked up.”

He nods. “I’m sorry.”

To her credit, Trinity looks directly at Ami. “We haven’t been together in a while, if that helps.”

“What’s ‘a while’?” Ami asks.

Trinity lifts a shoulder, drops it. “Five months or so.”

Ami nods, breathing deep and fast, struggling to not cry.

“Ami,” I say, “go inside. Lie down. I’ll be in in a second.”

She turns and quickly dodges Dane’s outstretched hand as she passes. A car door slams down at the street and my heart lurches—how many more women are going to show up tonight?

But it isn’t another woman. It’s Ethan. He’s coming from work, wearing fitted gray pants and a blue dress shirt, lookin

g good enough to climb.

I’m shell-shocked by what’s happening and trying to keep my shit together so I can be strong for Ami, but I still feel like I’ve been turned inside out at the sight of him.

“Oh,” Ami says from the door, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I invited Ethan, too, Ollie. I think he owes you an apology.” And then she quietly closes the front door behind her.