He disappears behind the fridge door, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Ash leans in, voice low in my ear. “He’s not wrong, though.”
“About what?”
He smiles. “The vibe.”
My cheeks flush. And I don’t even try to deny it.
***
The next few hours we do everything humanly possible to act normal. Not just normal—painfully, obviously platonic. Like we’ve never so much as thought about touching each other.
Ash sits on one end of the couch. I sit on the other. A decorative pillow the size of a small country rests between us.
Liam sprawls across the armchair, legs slung over the side, beer in hand, grinning like an idiot. He’s three drinks past tipsy and he's crossed into his affectionate phase. The phase where he turns intoa human golden retriever with a beer in his hand and zero volume control.
We’re camped out in the living room, the TV playing some action movie no one’s watching. I’ve kicked off my shoes and tucked my feet beneath me. Ash is nursing a sparkling water, pretending not to laugh every time Liam opens his mouth.
Which is often.
“I just love you guys,” Liam slurs, pointing between us with exaggerated sincerity. “You’re, like… my two favorite people in the entire goddamn world.”
I smile. “We love you too.”
“No, like,reallylove you,” he insists, slamming his hand over his heart like he’s reciting a pledge. “I mean, look at you, Olive. My baby sister. Grown up. All smart and pretty and—what’s the word—competent. You’re so competent.”
Ash chuckles. “High praise.”
“I’m serious!” Liam nods at me. “You used to cry when your glitter pens ran out. Now you’ve got a real job and a fake husband. It’s wild.”
I snort. “Thanks, I think?”
“And Ash.” Liam turns, dramatically placing a hand on Ash’s shoulder. “My brother from another mother. You’re the best, man. You’ve always been the best. You stuck by me when I puked in that cab in Berlin. You bailed me out of jail in Austin. You even let me borrow your hair gel that one time I thought I had a date with a Victoria’s Secret model who turned out to be a guy named Brad.”
Ash raises a brow. “Still not over that, huh?”
Liam ignores him and barrels on. “And now you’re fake-marrying my sister. That’s commitment. Honestly, it’s beautiful. If you two weren’t fake, I’d be suspicious, but you are, so I’m not, and that’s why I trust you.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“You two,” Liam says, voice wobbling with emotion, “you just… fit. Like… puzzle pieces. Like PB and J. Like guitars and eyeliner.”
Ash raises an eyebrow. “That last one was a stretch.”
Liam throws his arms around us both in a clumsy group hug. “I’m just so happy we’re all together. This is the golden age of Hart-Ryder friendship.”
I pat his back, laughing into his shoulder. “Okay, Shakespeare. Time for water.”
Liam sighs dramatically and leans into me like a sleepy toddler. “Fine. But only if someone tucks me in.”
“I vote Ash,” I say.
“I vote Ash too,” Liam mumbles, already half-asleep on my shoulder. “He’s got the better arms.”
Ash smirks but doesn’t argue. It doesn’t take long before Liam is out cold—curled up on the couch, one sock missing, mouth slightly open, snoring like he’s trying to start a lawn mower.
An empty glass of water sits on the coffee table, a throw blanket half-slid off his legs. I gently tug it back into place and brush his messy hair from his forehead.
