Page 18 of Honey, I'm Home

I yelp and try to run because the way he’s stalking me is incredibly intense, and a little frightening, but Hawthorne rolls out fromunder my damn carand pulls me against him. Damnit. Why is he always naked?

Arbor pins me between him and Hawthorne while my brother flips all of us off and pisses off to our parents’ house, adamant that he’s not going to witness whatever happens next because, and I quote, “Fucking nasty.”

“You know what you did,” Arbor says in this super intense and not at all shiver-inducing tone.

“And so does everyone that was just shopping at Grant’s Groceries. What’s your point?”

Hawthorne snickers behind me, not even asking for the story.

“My point is, you gave in to us. My point, is that we’ve caught you, our little queen bee.”

“Woah. I slept with Dev once, last night. It’s not like I signed some big contract that says you own me forever now.”

Something sails through the air and Hawthorne catches it before passing it to Arbor. It looks like an old school piece of parchment, until he unrolls it. The side facing me is an advertisement for car insurance written in fake handwriting, and I know exactly what’s on the other side.

It’s covered in pink glitter, unicorn stickers and unfortunately, my 10-year-old signature written in purple crayon.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That isnota legally binding document.”

Arbor clears his throat and begins to read aloud: “I, Aster Pepperling, do hereby promise that if I ever decide that boys aren’t absolutely disgusting and allow one of the undersigned to kiss me: Hawthorne Stinkypants, Arbor Bedwetter, and Dev The Mostly Okay, then may I be struck down and forced to marry them. I promise to never complain again and give them incredible blowjobs on their birthdays.”

“Woah. I definitely didn’t add that last part. That’s document altering; definitely won’t hold up in court now.”

Hawthorne grabs a hold of my hips and pulls them into him, breathing hot air along my neck and somehow turning me to putty. “You got our names wrong anyway; it was never going tohold up anywhere. Except for our hearts,” he says with mock ardor.

“You plan on taking us to court over this, Aster?” Arbor asks, clearly already knowing the answer.

I just don’t even know what to say to Arbor when he looks so damn earnest. “What do you want? I was fucking ten years old! Why the hell do you even have that still? You guys really are stalkers, aren’t you?”

“Now you’re catching on,” Hawthorne says into my ear as he starts kissing right underneath it.

“What do we want?” Arbor asks, dropping down onto one knee.

A soft, romantic violin solo begins playing from a speaker nearby, and when I remember to breathe again, Arbor is pulling a small black box out of his pocket. And opening it.

I’m almost expecting it to be something absolutely random, just to freak me out and get me riled up, but no.

It’s exactly what you think it is.

“Aster Pepperling. We let you go when we were too young to be the partners you needed out of us, and we know you’ve lived a life completely separate from us for the last ten years, but we don’t need those ten years back to know that we belong together.”

“We don’t?” I ask stupidly.

He shakes his head. “We don’t. If you’re here, and you’re ready to try this, for real, and let us love you, we’ll do our absolute best to take care of you and keep you happy. Your happiness is all we’ve ever wanted, and we’re finally at a point in our lives where we can freely offer that to you.

“Aster Pepperling, would you make us the happiest little bees on the block, and agree to become our wife?”

The weight behind me disappears, and then Dev comes from who knows where carrying an enormous bouquet of flowers, and Hawthorne is rolling out of bushes…random… still without pants. Hey, two out of three ain’t bad.

They both take a knee next to Arbor, and all I can do is stare at them, at a complete loss for words.

“Are you serious right now? This isn’t a mortifyingly embarrassing joke, is it?” Oh look, I found them.

“I told you last night Aster, you’re ours. This is a formality. Say no if you want, but we’re still going to tell everyone you’re our fiancée. Your brother ruined the surprise a bit, but we definitely already have engraved invitations ready to mail,” Dev informs me.

I rub my forehead and hold out my hand, silently asking them to put the ring on my hand.

I make the mistake of closing my eyes while I do this, because I’m overwhelmed, and if I can’t see them, then that’s less stimuli telling me to panic and run.