Page 51 of Crown of Ash

His phone buzzed against the weathered porch railing, disrupting the tranquility. Then again. A third buzz followed in quick succession, an unmistakable signal that only meant one thing.

Jude: does ANYONE know how to get sand out of a ring setting because I think I just permanently damaged my own engagement ring and I've only had it four weeks

Seth: put it in rice

Seth: the ring not your hand

Jude: SETH

Nate: babe he means like phones. don't put your hand in rice

Ghost: Rice doesn't actually work for moisture extraction, it's a myth. Silica gel packets work. I have several if anyone needs them.

Ghost: I keep them for exactly this reason

Elijah: why do you HAVE silica gel packets on standby that feels like a red flag

Ghost: It's not a red flag. It's preparedness.

Trip: He alphabetizes the emergency kit. Let the man have his silica.

Andre smiled down at the screen despite himself. Six weeks of relative peace and the group chat had lost none of its ability to derail in four messages flat. This was a new one, with all of them in it, and a constant source of chaos. And… love.

Jack: meanwhile in a normal chat, Eli is making me watch him try on his old uniform pants to see if they still fit

Elijah: THEY FIT

Jack: they do not fit babe

Elijah: I refuse to discuss this further

Nate: anyway ANDRE where are the honeymoon pictures we were promised

Andre glanced over at Marcus, still dead asleep, sun-warmed and unbothered by the entire chaos unfolding six hundred miles away in his pocket.

Andre: it's not a honeymoon

Zain: you've been gone a month with a ring-shaped tan line already starting on your left hand, Jefferson.

Andre looked down at his own hand. Zain wasn't wrong. He hadn't even noticed himself doing it, the way his thumb had started finding the bare spot on his ring finger like it was already used to something being there.

Andre: we'll talk about that when we talk about it

Seth: couples code for "already engaged, hasn't told anyone yet"

Jude: WAIT

Nate: ANDRE

Elijah: THE PANTS CONVERSATION IS OFFICIALLY TABLED WE HAVE BIGGER NEWS

Andre's laughter echoed out loud, a rich, hearty sound that danced over the porch and into the warm, tropical air. The sound nudged Marcus from his slumber, his eyes fluttering open, sleepy and questioning.

"Everything okay?" His voice was a low rumble, still heavy with sleep.

"The chat's spiraling." Andre held up his phone, the screen ablaze with the glow of what was rapidly becoming forty unread messages. "Apparently, I've developed a tan line."

Marcus's gaze slid down to Andre's left hand, slow and deliberate. His expression softened, a hint of smug satisfaction creeping into his features.