The Unhoneymooners(84)

There are two responses in me. One is a joyful Okay then, let’s do this! and the other is a fearful Oh hell no. The first feels breezy and light, the second feels comforting and familiar and safe. As good as it feels to be careful, and to risk boredom and loneliness over heartache, I don’t particularly want comfortable and safe anymore.

“I guess you deserve another chance,” I tell him, only inches away from his kiss. “You do give a great massage.”

His smile comes to rest on mine and the entire restaurant erupts. All around us, people stand from their chairs and I look up, realizing that men in the corner were Dad and Diego in wigs, and the table of women in the back was Mom, Tía María, Ximena, Jules, and Natalia. The woman in the hallway to the bathroom really was Ami, and the restaurant is filled with my family, who are all standing and clapping like I’m the luckiest woman alive. And maybe I am.

Looking over, I see the Hamiltons near the window, standing and clapping, too. I suspect that they didn’t just show up here tonight—that Ami got them here so they could see that what they endured with us in Maui resulted in something enduring between me and Ethan here tonight—but in the end it doesn’t matter.

I don’t think I’ve ever imagined happiness like this.

Luck, fate, determination—whatever it is, I’ll take it. I pull Ethan down to me, feeling the slippery slide of his tank top under my hands and my laugh echoing into our kiss.





epilogue


Two years later


Ethan

“Man, he is out.”

“Is he drooling?”

“He’s a cute sleeper. But deep, wow. I bet people drew on his face in college.”

“Not usually this deep.” A pause. I try to open my eyes but the fog of sleep is still too heavy. “I’m tempted to lick his face to wake him up. Would that be mean?”

“Yes.”

Many have said that my girlfriend and her sister are so similar that even their voices sound the same, but after two years with her, I can distinguish Olive’s easily. Both voices are soft, with an almost imperceptible accent, but Olive’s is huskier, slightly scratchy around the edges, like she doesn’t use it much. Always the listener with most people; the observer.

“Lucas?” It’s Ami’s voice again, wavy and slow, as if coming through water. “Can you carry him off the plane if we need to?”

“Doubtful.”

I am jostled. A hand comes up to my shoulder, sliding up my neck to my cheek. “Ethannnnn. This is your faaaaather. We are laaaaanding.”

It isn’t my father, in fact; it’s Olive, speaking through her fist directly into my ear. I drag myself out of sleep with intense effort, blinking. The seat in front of me comes into blurry focus; the surface of my eyes feel syrupy.

“He lives!” Olive leans over into my field of vision, and grins. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I lift a heavy hand and rub my face, trying to clear the fog.

“We’re almost on the ground,” she says.

“I swear I just fell asleep.”

“Eight hours ago,” she tells me. “Whatever Dr. Lucas gave you worked well.”

I lean forward, looking past Olive in the middle seat and Ami on the aisle to where Ami’s new boyfriend—and my longtime friend and physician, Lucas Khalif—sits on the other aisle seat. “I think you gave me a dose for a horse.”

He lifts his chin. “You’re a lightweight.”

I fall back against the seat, preparing to close my eyes again, but Olive reaches for me, turning my face to the window so I’ll look. The view sucks the breath out of my throat; the intensity of color is like a slap. I missed this the first time we came to Maui, spending the entire flight pretending to not look at Olive’s boobs through my anxiety haze, but below us, the Pacific Ocean is a sapphire, resting on the horizon. The sky is so blue it’s nearly neon; only a handful of wispy clouds are brave enough to block the view.

“Holy shit,” I say.

“Told you.” She leans in, kissing my cheek. “You okay?”

“Groggy.”

Olive reaches up and tweaks my ear. “Perfect, because first up is a dip in the ocean. That’ll wake you up.”

Ami dances in her seat, and I glance at my girlfriend as she takes in her sister’s reaction. Ami’s excitement is infectious, but Olive’s is nearly blinding. Things were hard for her for a long time after losing her job, but it also gave her a clarity she’d never had before. She realized that, while she loved science, she didn’t particularly love her job. While waiting tables at Camelia, she served a woman who ran a nonprofit health advocacy center. After a long meal peppered with intense, enthusiastic conversations while Olive worked a busy dinner shift, Ruth hired Olive as her community education coordinator, in charge of speaking at schools, church groups, retirement communities, and businesses about the science behind vaccines. She gets to geek out all over the Midwest about the flu vaccine now.

When she found out where the National Community Health Awareness winter conference would be this year—Maui—we knew it was fate: We owed Ami a trip to the island.

The landing gear lowers; the plane crosses the coastline and then sweeps over the lush landscape of the island. I glance down my row to where Ami has reached across the aisle to hold Lucas’s hand. It’s fitting that her first time in Maui should be with someone who adores her with as much devotion as he does.