The Unhoneymooners

“And it’s clear the self-fulfilling prophecy works in both directions: From the moment I watched myself picking my nose behind a piece of grimy plexiglass on the six o’clock news, my luck never really improved. I’ve never won a coloring contest or an office pool; not even a lottery ticket or a game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey. I have, however, broken a leg when someone fell backward down the stairs and knocked me over (they walked away unscathed), consistently drew bathroom duty during every extended family vacation for a five-year stretch, was peed on by a dog while sunbathing in Florida, have been crapped on by innumerable birds over the years, and when I was sixteen I was struck by lightning—yes, really—and lived to tell the tale (but had to go to summer school because I missed two weeks of classes at the end of the year).”

Olive, with some wryness, connects her childhood mishap to her entire life trajectory. She was once “picking her nose” on the evening news— an image that highlights her awkwardness. Her catalogue of mishaps establishes that,, in her own eyes, she remains ridiculous, doomed by forces outside her control to experience humiliation, pain, and suffering. She sees herself, in a sense, as trapped by her history, not as a person who has power to react to circumstances or shape them. This insistence on the power of fate will come to dominate all of Olive’s relationships, so her monologue here foreshadows this ongoing theme.

“At Thanksgiving, he switched chairs with his dad, Doug, just so he wouldn’t have to sit next to me. And last night at the rehearsal dinner, every time I had a bite of cake, or Jules and Diego made me laugh, Ethan rubbed his temples in the most dramatic show of suffering I’d ever seen. Finally I left my cake behind and got up to sing karaoke with Dad and Tío Omar. Maybe I’m still furious that I gave up three bites of really good cake because of Ethan Thomas. Ami frowns. She’s not the biggest fan of Ethan either, but she’s got to be tired of having this conversation.”

The extensive catalogue of grievances betrays that for all her protests, Olive keeps extensive track of Ethan’s behavior and habits. She assumes his behavior at the rehearsal dinner is a “show of suffering” and that any negative action on his part is rooted in dislike other. She lets this behavior dictate her own. Her level of focus on Ethan reinforces for the reader that this romance is likely to feature the two of them as enemies-turned-lovers.

“‘Beautiful color, don’t you think?’

‘You look like a Skittle.’

‘Aw, Ethan. Stop with the seduction.’

A tiny grin twitches the side of his mouth.

‘So few people can pull off that color, Olivia.’

From his tone, I can tell I am not included in this few.

’It’s Olive.’

It amuses my extended family to no end that my parents named me Olive, not the eternally more lyrical Olivia. Since I can remember, all my uncles on Mom’s side call me Aceituna just to rankle her. But I doubt Ethan knows that; he’s just being a dick.”

This scene is Olive and Ethan’s first conversation in the text, with both of them bantering and insulting one another. Ethan betrays amusement at Olive’s comment that he is trying to seduce her by comparing her to a piece of neon candy. The reader knows Olive herself already hates the color, so the joke seems clever rather than cruel. For all the oppositional rhetoric, the banter here emphasizes that Olive and Ethan are equally matched in a battle of wits. Ethan pretends not even to know her name while insulting the dress color. Her private reflection that her parents’ choice of name is a family joke reflects her heritage: aceituna is Spanish for ‘olive.’ Olive herself, however, doubts that Ethan is in on the joke, assuming he is deliberately trying to prove her.

“With the sound of retching all around us, a heavy awareness settles into our quiet space, and we slowly turn to each other, eyes wide. He carefully scans my face, so I carefully scan his, too. He is notably normal-colored, not even a little green.

‘Are you nauseated?’ he asks me quietly.

‘Beyond at the sight of this? Or you? No.’

‘Impending diarrhea?’ I stare at him.

‘How are you single? Frankly, it’s a mystery.’

And instead of being relieved he’s not sick, he relaxes his expression into the cockiest grin I’ve ever seen.

‘So I was right about buffets and bacteria.’”

Olive and Ethan are made into an unlikely pair as disaster strikes at the wedding reception. The language here relies on contrast: the sound of catastrophic illness is opposed to their silent communication. Olive takes the opportunity to dig at Ethan sarcastically, implying his very presence disgusts her despite her outward signs of health. She takes his relief as a sign he is egotistical and self-obsessed. Notably, Olive starts the baiting first, as if the authors are suggesting she is far more invested in the rivalry. This will prove significant in later chapters as Olive is forced to reassess her early image of Ethan.

“I stare at him in disbelief, hear the lock disengage, and begin to sarcastically thank him, but he’s already preoccupied with the view of my tan Spanx.

‘Your dress ripped,’ he says helpfully.

‘You have spinach in your teeth.’

He doesn’t, but at least it distracts him enough that I can escape back into the room and close the door in his face. Unfortunately, he knocks.

‘Just a second, I need to get some clothes on.’

His reply is a lazy drawl through the door: ‘Why start now?’”

This scene establishes Olive’s single-minded focus on remaining as irritated with Ethan as possible. She avoids focus on the fact that he is staring at her body, focusing instead on his stating the obvious. His quip that she should be less worried about getting dressed implies he is at least somewhat attracted to her, though she ignores this in favor of maintaining her dislike. Another person might even read his comment as flirtation, but Olive ignores it rather than re-evaluate him.

“Are there any activities available that are a little more rugged and a lot less… naked?’” Cue the awkward pause. She clears her throat. ‘You can find a more comprehensive list in your room. Take a look, and we can schedule anything you like.’”

In this scene, the authors play up the tension inherent in two people who dislike one another planning a honeymoon trip. Olive betrays her discomfort easily, while Ethan remains calm and does his best to keep up the deception. Olive’s inner monologue betrays her tendency to assume the worst of Ethan, as she hyperbolically imagines him plotting her death. But even Ethan balks when confronted with the reality of their circumstances, giving Olive a small triumph at his expense. 

“How have we come this far without discussing the logistics of sleeping arrangements? Did we both truly assume that the honeymoon suite would have two bedrooms? Without a doubt, we both would happily die on the Not Sharing a Bed with You hill, but how do we decide who gets the only bedroom? Obviously, I think I should—but knowing Ethan, he probably thinks he’ll take the bed and I’ll happily build my little troll fort under the dining table.”

In this moment, the authors introduce another minor trope into the fake dating trope, commonly known as “only one bed.” Olive’s tone here is exasperated and highly comical— she knows on some level this should have been obvious to her much sooner. This aspect of the trope highlights that they remain in forced proximity despite their protestations of avoiding one another. Olive is so annoyed that she imagines Ethan thinks of her as the inhabitant of a “troll fort”— a humorous image that underlines her tendency toward hyperbole and drama.

“I know there’s an obvious right choice here, but I do not make it.

‘Oh yeah. Just got married.’

Oh God. Why? Why does my mouth do this? That was honestly the worst choice. Because now, when we return home, I’m going to have to pretend to be married whenever I run into Mr. Hamilton—which could be daily—or fess up to getting fake divorced immediately after the fake wedding. Gah.”

For all that Olive frequently attributes her unfortunate mishaps to fate, in this moment she compounds her problems of her own volition. On some level Olive knows this, as “why does my mouth do this” underlines the impulse and lack of thought involved, as if her speech happens of its own accord. The authors immediately up the stakes of the fake dating trope with this episode, as Olive notes, somewhat comedically, that now she will have to get “fake divorced” upon returning home.

“‘She was wearing a T-shirt that said Particle Collisions Give Me a Hadron, and I thought any woman who understands a physics pun is someone I need to know.’

Mr. Hamilton barks out a laugh and hits the table. Frankly, I can barely keep my jaw from hitting the floor. The story Ethan is telling isn’t the real first time we met, but maybe the third or fourth—in fact, it was the night I decided I was not going to put in a single bit of effort with him because every time I tried to be friendly, he’d weasel away and go into another room. And here he is, rattling off what I was wearing.”

This scene underlines that Olive and Ethan’s adversarial relationship may be one-sided in some respects. In Ethan’s memory, Olive is humorous and cerebral, even likeable. Olive’s shock suggests she is struggling to reconcile this image of her with her dislike. Ethan’s anecdote suggests that just as Olive notices things about him, he is equally as aware of her. Later events will reveal just how sincere his admiration of her sense of humor is. His remark underlines that Olive’s impressions may not always be accurate where Ethan is concerned.

“Even when we were staring at each other in horror, he still looked nice that close up. Maybe even nicer than he does from a distance. His eyes are so insanely blue, his lashes are long to the point of absurdity. And he’s warm. So war—My brain is short-circuiting. Shut up, Olive. Oh my God. Pretending we’re married means we might have to do that again.”

Olive’s reflections on her brief kiss with Ethan establish that while she has yet to entirely reassess him, she cannot deny her attraction. She repeats that he looks “nice” and his eyes are “insanely blue”—as if to suggest he is in a class by himself, aesthetically. She tries to deny the attraction, but soon realizes that their circumstances pose a new challenge: Sophie’s presence means that physical affection may be unavoidable. This ratchets up the romantic tension and assures the reader Ethan and Olive will become a couple.

“I take a final watery sip of my drink and then exhale directly into his face so that he winces from the fumes of cheap vodka. Squinting, he says, ‘You’re a real seductress.’

‘I hear that a lot.’

He coughs, and I swear I see Ethan Thomas battling a genuine smile. And I get it. As much as I hate him… I think I’m starting to like us.”

Olive’s antagonism in this scene is more playful, allowing the authors to showcase that forced proximity to Ethan is changing her. She remains her usual witty self, meeting his sarcasm with sarcasm, but inwardly, admits to herself, “I’m starting to like us.” She is enjoying time with him despite herself and is brave enough to confront the awkwardness between them. His admission that he is usually more socially adept may strike the reader as an admission of attraction.

“A true nemesis doesn’t show weakness, and for sure, when I reach out to rub his back, a true nemesis wouldn’t lean into it, moaning in quiet relief. He wouldn’t shift so that I could reach him more easily, and he certainly wouldn’t scoot down the bench and rest his head in my lap, staring up at me in gratitude when I gently rake my fingers through his hair, soothing. Ethan and I are starting to build more of these good moments than bad; it sends the balance swinging into an unfamiliar direction. And I think I really like it. Which makes me incredibly uneasy.”

Ethan’s seasickness brings out another side of him, contrasting him both to Olive’s early perceptions and to his brother Dane. Rather than perform crude or tough masculinity, Ethan is unafraid to be vulnerable and accept tax he needs support. Olive admits she is “uneasy” at this—letting go of opposition makes it harder to deny her attraction. Ethan seems to accept this. The thaw in their relationship is not yet complete, but it is clear to the reader that Olive is smitten.

“‘Oh, Olivia. I just had my hands all over you, and you’re so relaxed you can barely speak.’ He steps away, and then his voice comes from a distance, like he’s walked to the door: ‘You’d better believe I will be smug as hell.’”

In this scene, Olive is fighting her attraction to Ethan, calling his laugh “maddening” and “amazing in the same moment. Ethan is clearly reveling in his effect on her, emphasizing that their attraction is mutual. For all that, Ethan keeps up their banter, calling her by the wrong name. Ethan’s retort about his smugness emphasizes that Olive’s resistance is crumbling, and that he has, for the moment, bested her in their competition.

“I reach out, carefully sweeping the hair across his forehead, and he looks up at me with such intensity that I freeze with my fingers near his temple. ‘What do you mean, then?’ I ask quietly. He doesn’t break eye contact. Not even for a breath.

‘It’s so exhausting pretending to hate you.’

This pulls me up short, and—even though I know it now, the truth of it still blows through me—I ask, ‘So you don’t hate me?’

‘Nope.’ He shakes his head dramatically.

‘Never did.’”

Significantly, it takes inebriation for Ethan to tell Olive the truth about their rivalry. He has only kept it up because of her, not because of real animosity. This intimate revelation comes when they are also close to each other, emphasizing that proximity is what has changed their relationship. Ethan emphasizes that he has “never” hated her, forcing her to reevaluate their entire history. This constant reassessment of herself and her judgments is a major part of Olive’s growth in the work, and this confession from Ethan is part of what spurs this change in her.

“So does that mean he’s right about me? Did I misinterpret everything in that first interaction, and carry it with me for the past two and a half years? Was a single ambiguous look from Ethan enough to send me into this place of no return, where I decide we’re bitter enemies? Am I really that angry?”

At this moment, everything familiar about Olive is falling away: her sarcasm is gone, as is her formerly ironclad sense of moral superiority toward Ethan. She is able to admit that Ethan’s gaze at her was “ambiguous” and that she may be part of the problem. Now Olive looks back at her past with self-reproach rather than moral triumph, emphasizing that she is capable of change.

“‘I had my penny the night we ran into Sophie. Logically, if everything was about luck, that wouldn’t have happened.’

‘Unless my bad luck countered your good luck.’

His arms come around my waist, and he pulls me into the heat of his chest. I’m still so unaccustomed to the ease of his affection that thrill passes in a shiver down my spine.

‘You’re a menace,’ he says into the top of my head.

‘It’s just how I’m built,’ I tell him.

‘Ami and I are like photo negatives.’

‘It’s not a bad thing.’

He tilts my chin, kissing me once, slowly.

‘We’re not supposed to be carbon copies of our siblings… even when we are outwardly identical.’”

Both in Hawaii and after her return, Olive ponders the nature of luck, especially in contrast to her own capabilities. Ethan sees his lucky penny merely as a reminder, not a force in its own right. Olive, on the other hand, insists that luck has power over them both. He accepts her pessimism, rejecting her attempt to cast herself as an inferior version of Ami. In this moment, he draws her close to him, emphasizing that they can disagree without falling back on their old adversarial patterns.

“I think it’s easier for you to believe that when things don’t go your way, it’s not because of something you did, it’s because you’re a pawn in some cosmic game of chance. But, news flash, Olive: you end up unemployed and alone because of the choices you make. You’ve always been this way.”

Ami’s angry speech underlines that Ethan is not the only person Olive can sometimes alienate with her negative outlook. Ami emphasizes “the choices you make” painting Olive as a free agent rather than a victim. Though Ami speaks in anger here, her words echo Olive’s own fears about why she has been so quick to misjudge Ethan, and Ethan’s urgings for Olive to reconsider her views on luck.

“I fell for Ethan on that island, after all. I’m excited about a job at Camelia so that I have time to really think about what I want my life to look like. I’m trying to fix all the parts of me that aren’t working because I know I have a choice in how my life goes—that it isn’t all luck—but as soon as I try to be proactive, it’s like no one wants to let me. And why isn’t Dane here with Ethan, trying to make things right with me? Actually, I know why: He is so sure that no one will believe me, that everyone will think, Oh, Olive is just being Olive. Just believing the worst about everyone. My opinions are so inconsequential because in their eyes I’m always going to be the pessimist.”

Olive decides that her family may have been right about who she once was, but she sees that the Hawaii trip has been key to her next steps. She has been open to love and new career paths, and she knows she has agency in her own life. But Dane uses her past against her, using it to protect himself from judgement. Olive is fatalistic in this moment, afraid no one around her will see who she wants to become.

“I feel like I can look up for the first time in a decade. I can breathe. There’s a reason Ethan didn’t know much about my job: I never talked about it. It was what I did, not who I was. And even though many of my breaths ache—because I miss Ethan, I do, I miss him so much it hurts—not having the weight of a corporate job on my shoulders is an unbelievable relief. I never knew I was this person. I feel more myself than I’ve ever been.”

In this inner monologue, Olive makes clear that her journey in the narrative is both romantic and individual: she can see her work and hopes for the future more clearly, and she can “breathe’ as if the journey to Hawaii has liberated her in every possible way. This journey is linked to Ethan— their conversations about work helped her realize she needed a change— but she emphasizes that this growth was because she deserves it, not because he pushed her.

“‘Why would I regret missing it now? We would have had even more good memories ruined. I should have known it was a bad omen when literally everyone but you and Ethan got sick at the wedding.’

She turns her glassy eyes up to me.

‘It was a sign from the universe—’

‘Dios,’ Mom interjects.

Diego holds up a finger. ‘Beyoncé.’

‘—that you and Ethan are the ones who should be together,’ Ami slurs. ‘Not me and Dane.’

‘I agree,’ Mom says.

‘So do I,’ Tío Omar calls from the kitchen.”

In this scene, the Torres family returns to the theme of luck and fate, but Olive and Ami have reconciled, no longer at odds over it. Ami says that missing the trip has saved her more pain, and attributes this to fate. Their family agrees, telling Olive she and Ethan are destined to be together. This scene of family togetherness is a gentle contrast to Ami’s disastrous wedding, and showcases that for all Olive’s sense of isolation, she is deeply cared for.

“‘He didn’t hurt me.’ Ami stands to refill her glass of water.

‘He hurt you, and I’m sure he wants to own that, too, but that’s between the two of you, and you have to answer his calls first.’

‘I don’t have to do anything where Ethan Thomas is concerned.’

Ami’s silence leaves my words to echo back to me, and I realize how they sound. So unforgiving but… familiar. I haven’t felt like that version of myself in so long, and I don’t like it.”

Because Olive has spent so much of the novel conflicted about her sister’s marriage, and how to help, Ami’s words here carry particular emotional resonance. Just as Ami’s marriage was hers to resolve in the end, Olive has to accept her own agency vis-a-vis Ethan. Ami does not argue when Olive falls back on her previous bitterness, letting Olive hear her own voice and assess for herself whether forgiveness or bitterness is her path forward.

“He tries to wrestle his smile under control but I can see how much this exchange lights him up inside. I try to pretend it doesn’t do the same to me. Ethan is here. Ethan Thomas is grand-gesturing in an ugly shirt, with a fake mai tai glass. It’s taking my brain a little time to catch up to my heart, which is currently jackhammering away beneath my breastbone.”

As they reconcile, Olive and Ethan return to their usual verbal banter. Olive knows that this unique energy belongs to both of them, and she is filled with emotion. Ethan is willing to look absurd, to recall their past together, in order to urge Olive toward a shared future. Olive’s use of the phrase “grand gesture” recalls Ethan’s failed proposal to Sophie. But even now they understand one another, underscoring that this time his public demonstration will yield a different result.

“‘You really hurt me. We had this rare, awesome honesty, and so when you thought I was lying, it was really hard.’

‘I know.’

He bends so that his lips are right near my ear.

‘I should have listened to you. I should have listened to my own instincts. I’m going to feel shitty about that for a long time.’

There are two responses in me. One is a joyful Okay then, let’s do this! and the other is a fearful Oh hell no. The first feels breezy and light, the second feels comforting and familiar and safe. As good as it feels to be careful, and to risk boredom and loneliness over heartache, I don’t particularly want comfortable and safe anymore.”

Olive does not hesitate to tell Ethan the truth of what harm he has done, in contrast to her earlier caution. Ethan reciprocates by telling her he understands exactly how much betrayed his best self, the honesty she brings out in him. Olive decides to look forward, to become a less anxious and cautious version of herself— though she has left Hawaii behind, these terms of reconciliation emphasize that she carries that journey with her.