It balloons inside me. Like I’m floating in the air, sun shining down on us.
We kiss in a soulful force, cementing this marriage together.
Everyone claps around us, even if they’re probably confused as hell. I didn’t tell them we were already married, but I did invite them to the afternoon performance of Romeo & Juliet under the pretense of proposing.
Oscar pulls away and whispers to me, “Now I’m gonna need the details on how you made this happen.”
I’m looking forward to the two-hour ride back to Philly where I can tell him all about it. It is hard to surprise the guy who’s rarely surprised, but not impossible.
“I’m still holding your ring, Os.” He’s not letting me slip it on his finger.
“That one’s yours.”
“I didn’t have yours to propose with…”
He’s digging in his slack’s pocket. He pulls out his ring, identical to mine. White gold. Three tiny diamonds.
I.
Love.
You.
My nose flares, more feelings balled up in me. “You’ve been carrying that around?”
“It hasn’t left my side, Highland.” He passes me his ring. I pass him mine.
Emotion tumbles between us. Knelt on the ground still, I slide his silver ring onto his finger. When he pushes the cold band along mine—it feels real finally.
Married.
Jack Arizona Highland-Oliveira.
It feels like this is the life I wrote myself. The one I wanted. The one I was too scared to chase, but thank everything in me that I did.
We kiss again, and as we climb to our feet together. Families swarm us. Congratulations sweep around us, along with the questions of when, where, how?
Oscar’s parents speak in Portuguese, but with their smiles and uplifting tones, I’m pretty sure it’s more of the same congratulatory sentiments.
I bring my Lola’s hand to my forehead in respect and say, “Mano po, Lola.” And then I wrap my arm around Jesse.
Farrow hugs Oscar and says with a grin, “You sneaky fucker. How the hell did you already marry him?” Donnelly shakes Oscar’s shoulders, and the rest of SFO congregate around my husband. His brother and sister bound closer to him with their own grins and praises.
Maximoff, Jane, and Sulli come up and hug me. Smiling from ear-to-ear, and I receive top-marks from the Cobalts on my delivery and speech.
“Flawless,” Audrey says.
I love, love, love people. I film them because I love them. We’re all human.
Oscar raises a hand. “Alright, alright! We’ll tell you all how Highland and I got hitched once we’re back at the penthouse.” He glances to Farrow. “You are throwing us a post-elopement engagement party, right?”
Farrow grins. “I’d ask you how you know but—”
“I’m always ten steps ahead,” Oscar finishes. Everyone starts slowly making their way out of the building, gearing up for the penthouse.
I stop Jesse before he leaves. “Can we talk for a sec?”
“Yeah.” Jesse can’t hold shit in. He starts talking. “Can’t believe you didn’t tell Mama you got married. You’re a bigger rebel than I thought, Kuya.”
I laugh.
“They’re not mad or anything,” he continues. “I think this solidifies you as their favorite child because I’d never be able to pull this one off without landing major heat.”
I elbow his side. “I’ll use my power as favorite child for good.”
“That’s all I ask,” Jesse smiles.
I hate that I took up his summer for not much of anything. He can’t put Born into Fame on his resume since it doesn’t exist. Jesse has told me ten times that he was just glad for the experience. The time spent with me.
But I want to give my brother a better opportunity.
“How busy do you think you’ll be on the weekends, for the rest of your senior year?” I ask him.
Jesse shrugs, but a hopeful light reaches his eyes. “Not busy at all. Zero percent. Unless…something comes up?”
“Sulli wants to start free-soloing all her dad’s old routes,” I tell him.
Sulli announced this plan to her family yesterday at her dad’s birthday party. The reaction was heavily mixed, not everyone in full support of her new goal. She’s free-soloed before but conquering every mountain that Ryke Meadows has scaled (with no harness, no rope) is lofty and dangerous. It even freaks the fuck out of me.
I continue, “I’m going to need to film her for We Are Calloway, and I could use a PA that I trust a hundred-and-ten percent.” Because filming her climbing is going to be a nail-biting, nerve-inducing ordeal.
“That’s me right?” he asks, hopeful still.
I smile. “That’s you, Utoy.”
“We Are Calloway?” he asks in disbelief. “You’re going to let me on a WAC production?”
“Only on the weekends,” I say. “And Mama and I agreed that if it interferes with your school, it ends immediatl—”
He hugs me.
I wrap my arms around my little brother.
“Thank you,” he mutters into my shirt.
We split apart. Everyone begins to go, and I end up in the passenger seat of the Black Widow. Oscar at the wheel.
Before we drive off, Oscar asks, “You were good with telling everyone we’re married back there? No hesitations about what Oslie supporters might say about the marriage?”
“No hesitations.” I smile. “All I want is to shout that you’re my husband. Literally, I could fucking scream it out the window for two hours. Why hold anything in?”
We share a bigger smile.
“Yeah, I can definitely live with that answer.” Oscar switches on the music. “Let’s keep moving, Highland.”
We drive and jam out to my favorite band. Singing smoothly at the top of our lungs, our hands clasped between our seats. He clutches the steering wheel with the other, and mine taps the car to the rhythm. Our gazes latch affectionately, powerfully in every other beat.
His love carries me through the barrel of every wave. I’m already up on the board.
I’m coasting on these feelings. Riding them to shore.
44
OSCAR OLIVEIRA
The sun sets on the penthouse rooftop. Oranges bleed through the sky, and rays soak down on the most gorgeous guy.
That’s right, my husband.
Our post-elopement engagement
