The Unhoneymooners

Trinity meets my eyes and gives me a dry smile. “Good luck with this.” Looking down at Dane, she says, “I thought it was weird that you texted me to come over after disappearing months ago.” She gnaws her lip, looking more disgusted than upset. “I hope she leaves you.” With that, she climbs into her car and pulls out of the driveway.

Ethan has stopped a few feet away to watch this interaction, his brows furrowed in recognition. He turns his attention to me. “Olive? What’s going on here?”

“I think you know what’s going on here.”

Dane looks up, eyes red and swollen. Apparently he’d been crying behind that hand. “Ami invited them here, I guess.” He lifts his hands, defeated. “Holy shit, I can’t believe what just happened.”

Ethan looks at me again and then back to his brother. “But you weren’t still . . . ? ”

“Only a couple times with Cassie,” Dane says.

“And Trinity about five months ago,” I add helpfully. This moment is in no way about me and Ethan, but I can’t help giving him my best I told you so face.

Dane groans. “I’m such an idiot.”

I can see when Ethan realizes what he’s hearing. It’s like an invisible fist punches him in the chest, and he takes a step back before looking up at me with the clarity he should have had two weeks ago.

God, it should be satisfying, but it isn’t. Nothing about this feels good.

“Olive,” he says quietly, voice thick with apology.

“Don’t,” I say. I have a sister inside who needs me and have zero time for him or his worthless brother. “Take Dane with you when you go.”

Turning, I walk back into the house and don’t even look back at Ethan as I close the door behind me.

chapter twenty

It’s a few hours before I get—and ignore—a call from Ethan. I can only assume he’s been busy dealing with Dane, but I am also dealing with Dane, just less directly: I am packing up all of his clothes. And I can feel the intensity of Ami’s desire to get him out of the house because for maybe the first time in her life, it doesn’t even occur to her to look for a coupon before she sends me off to buy a giant stack of boxes at Menards.

I didn’t want to leave her alone while I ran out, so I called Mom, who brought Natalia, Jules, Diego, and Stephanie, who apparently texted Tío Omar and his daughter Tina to bring more wine. Tina and Tío Omar also brought cookies—along with a whole carload of cousins—so, faster than you can say Good riddance, dirtbag, there are twenty-two of us working on packing up every personal trace of Dane Thomas and putting each box in the garage.

Exhausted but accomplished, we all land on whatever empty, flat surface we can find in the living room, and it already feels like we have jobs: mine is to cuddle Ami, Natalia’s is to keep her wineglass full, Mom’s is to rub her feet, Tío Omar’s is to refresh the plate of cookies every now and then, Jules and Diego are handling the music, Tina is pacing the room, detailing precisely how she’s going to castrate Dane, and everyone else is cooking enough food for the next month.

“Are you going to divorce him?” Steph asks, carefully, and everyone waits for Mom to gasp . . . but she doesn’t.

Ami nods, her face in her wineglass, and Mom pipes up, “Of course she’s going to divorce him.”

We all stare at her, stunned, and finally she sighs in exasperation. “Ya basta! You think my daughter is dumb enough to get tangled up in the same stupid game her parents have been playing for two decades?”

Ami and I look at each other, and then burst out laughing. After a heavy beat of incredulous silence, the entire room follows suit, and finally even Mom is laughing, too.

In my pocket, my phone rings again. I peek but don’t get it hidden again fast enough because Ami catches a peek at my contact photo for Ethan on the screen before I can decline the call.

Tipsy now, she leans into me. “Aw, that was a good picture. Where did you take that?”

It’s honestly a little painful to recall that day, when Ethan and I rented the hideous lime-green Mustang and drove along the Maui coastline, becoming friends for the first time. He kissed me that night. “That was at the Nakalele blowhole,” I tell her.

“Was it pretty?”

“It was,” I say quietly. “Unbelievable, really. The entire trip was. Thank you, by the way.”

Ami squeezes her eyes closed. “I am so glad Dane and I didn’t go.”

Staring at her, I ask, “Seriously?”

“Why would I regret missing it now? We would have had even more good memories ruined. I should have known it was a bad omen when literally everyone but you and Ethan got sick at the wedding.” She turns her glassy eyes up to me. “It was a sign from the universe—”

“Dios,” Mom interjects.