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“I’m listening.” Charlie moves his queen and it’s staring down my king. “Checkmate,” he says. I’m not even that mad about it. Honestly, I love playing chess against Charlie. He’s the only person who’s ever been able to beat me.
“I didn’t burn all of it,” I whisper, being truthful. “I kept some of the footage where Charlie wasn’t present.” I smile at him. He understands. “You kept the footage of us.” “Yeah.”
I can’t stop visualizing how we ended up here. How I fell in love with Oscar Highland-Oliveira. Like someone hit play on the video of our lives.
There is no future where I’m not married to this man.
then quietly he pops an orange tin on his lap. One that Audrey Cobalt gave him when we arrived at the theatre. He tries to contain a laugh.
Do I use that as a reason to lean closer? Of course I fucking do. I lean into Oscar, my lips rising when I see the cookies inside the tin. “How sweet of her,” I smile brighter. He contains another laugh. “She outdid herself this time.”
I pick up a glazed sugar cookie. Orange icing is piped to resemble a glass of orange juice, and she scrawled the words, High...
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Mama even wears Highveira T-shirts to work. She’s shown me proudly on FaceTime.
Paparazzi caught footage of Oscar spinning around my baseball cap and kissing me. We were grinning, and I might’ve slapped his ass. People decided that one was “authentic”.
“We have fans,” I tell him into a bite of cookie. While his eyes sweep the theatre, he whispers, “Just don’t forget I’m still your number one fan, Highland.” “Don’t forget I’m yours, Os.”
My parents are also here. And my brother. Along with Oscar’s family. They’re shadowed in the darkened theatre. All in their own boxes, watching the ballet. Waiting for the end. Yet, it’s not really the end for me.
and I realize he’s dropped the legs of his chair he’d been leaning back on. He’s bowed forward.
Charlie careens back to whisper to us, “Who is that?”
To free my hands, I bite onto the cookie I’m eating and flip through the program. Oscar is checking NDAs for her name on his cellphone. Since Beckett works here, the dancers have had background security checks. Oscar finds her first. He leans forward and whispers, “Roxanne Ruiz. She’s eighteen.”
Charlie just turns forward, but I cat...
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I hear whistling from the audience, and I’m almost positive it’s Jane Cobalt and Daisy Calloway. The lobby.
“Love that shirt,” Oscar says, motioning to the white button-down I wear. His button-down. Everyone is in formal attire. “How many more are you going to steal from me, Long Beach?”
I pull the sucker out of my mouth, and Oscar takes it. He slips the sucker between his lips. I smile more. That was hot. Nerves start to subside.
I add, “They’re just half-mine now.” Oscar laughs.
Farrow, Maximoff, Ripley, and Jane and Thatcher have stopped talking, programs in their hands as they face us.
Even the Calloway sisters and their husbands watch.
And when his confused eyes land on me, I tell him, “Oscar.” “Jack?” The sucker is still in his mouth.
“I was never rewriting my life when I met you. There was no rewrite, Oscar, because this is how it was always supposed to be written. I am supposed to be with you. You are supposed to be with me. Nothing else makes sense.”
I continue on, “I love you. I love run-around-the-world Oscar. I love flirty Oscar, tactical bodyguard Oscar, snack monster Oscar”—everyone laughs, but I hold onto his laughter, his joyful tears that stream like mine—“my number one fan Oscar, sexy Oscar, intelligent as a motherfucker Oscar, a ride-or-die friend Oscar, a good brother Oscar, kiss me when the sun rises Oscar, my one and only Oscar…the love of my life Oscar.” He’s nodding, overwhelmed, our cheeks wet with emotion. “You’re my everything Oscar.”
“Fuck, Highland.” He takes out the sucker, about to bring me closer, but I drop to my knee. I hear sniffli...
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“Oscar Felipe Highland-Oliveira. I love every part of who you are.” I take his hand in mine and pull out a ring from my pocket. “Will you do ...
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“Yes,” he says. “You’re my everything Jack.”
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.
Married. Jack Arizona Highland-Oliveira.
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 lov...
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“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.
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.
“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?”
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.
and rays soak down on the most gorgeous guy. That’s right, my husband.
I’ve watched the sun set and rise in different cities, different countries, different continents with Jack. And each time, I feel like we’ve been chasing the day, catching up to the night. But right now, the world feels like ours. Like one enormous celebration of love.
Happiness. We hear the laughter of our families and friends, and our eyes return to each other. Rays brighten our joy as we lean in and kiss.
“This is about showing the real us. Plus, I have the best sound equipment that money can buy.” “Legitimately impressed that I married a billionaire.” He touches his chest. I slip him a smile.
My smile hurts my face. It’s not just that Oscar knows me, but it’s the certainty behind it. Like there’s no doubt in his head that he could be wrong.
“Arizona, if you don’t get your ass over here.” I break into a bigger grin. No lie, whenever he calls me Arizona, it feels like he’s packaging the state and giving me a gift.
I’m grateful for the camera as it captures the light in Oscar’s eyes in this second, this perfect frame of time.
