I stare at the words, reading them again. And again.
And suddenly, it’s real.
She said yes. She’s going to marry me.
For my career? This is everything I need. It’s controlled. Clean.Executable.
I tilt my head back, staring up at the stars. There’s a weight lifting off my shoulders.
I sit down on the edge of a lounge chair by the pool, screen glowing in the dark, thumbs hovering for a beat before I reply.
Ash:
Didn’t expect you to text back tonight.
Her response comes fast.
Olive:
Didn’t expect you to propose marriage, so I guess we’re both full of surprises.
I grin.
Ash:
Touché. So… this is a yes?
Olive:
It’s a “yes, but this is still objectively insane.”
Ash:
Agreed. Entirely unhinged.
Olive:
Glad we’re on the same page.
Ash:
I’ll have the draft contract ready this week. Sound good?
There’s a pause this time. A full minute before her reply comes through.
Olive:
Yeah, who doesn’t love a good fake marriage contract?
She’s quick. Sharp. Warm beneath the sarcasm. And she’s not afraid of me. That’s rare.
Ash:
Speaking of which—we should make this as real as possible. That means moving in together.
Olive:
Like… immediately? Hopefully your place is more spacious than Liam’s.
