Unbreakable

The walk out to wherever Sam wanted to take her, took longer than Andi expected. The garden paths wound up and away from the Main Building, tracing a slow, looping ascent toward the island’s northern cliffs. The sun was still low, hanging somewhere behind the volcano, and the sky had that faint, citrus-misted quality of a day that could go either way—storm or miracle, one never knew.

Sam set the pace. She walked with a kind of loping, animal grace that fit her—half wolf, half border collie, all muscle and intention. Her hands were jammed in the pockets of her cargo shorts. The blue T-shirt, now a little sweat-darkened at the neck, looked more like armor than leisurewear. Andi fell in beside her, letting her lead but close enough to count as “with.” The silence between them was a friendly one: no tension, just the steady percussion of footfalls and the occasional shared glance when the birds did something worth noting.

“God, you’re determined,” Andi said, when they finally hit the steep part of the climb.

Sam snorted. “Not really. I just don’t want you to beat me.”

Andi grinned. She always enjoyed how good it felt to be goaded by Sam, to have her weaknesses measured and then leveraged for maximum comedy. “I’m not racing,” she said. “I’m appreciating.”

“Uh-huh,” said Sam, but she smiled.

“You look peppy today,” Andi said, teasing her. “Queenhood must agree with you.”

Sam chuckled. “That, and I decided to splurge. Didn’t want you to have all the fun, you know?” She flexed her arm meaningfully.

• Titan (Bearing The World Upon Her Shoulders - Upgrade): Sam’s strength increases with the Master’s own, matching the strength of the Master (at two Achievements below him) at any given time.

Sam 6400 BP - 1000 BP = 5400 BP

Andi laughed as the realization set in. "Finally, a worthy arm-wrestling rival!" She grinned, and Sam laughed.

The last stretch was all raw rock and wind, the kind of promontory where legends were supposed to be born. And there, perched right at the edge—maybe ten feet from a drop that would have killed a normal person—stood Sam’s Pavilion.

It looked like nothing Andi had expected, and yet it was exactly right. A wide, round, open-sided shelter, its columns fluted and painted with strips of red and silver, a roof that shingled with something that shimmered like abalone shell. The whole thing caught the morning sun and reflected it out to sea, so that the Pavilion itself seemed to be calling ships home. Between the pillars, lengths of fabric hung in banners, all but one dyed in red and silver, each carrying a sigil Andi knew represented one of the women of the harem. With a certain embarrassment, she realized the green-and-gold banner was hers: a diamond shape with wings rising from either side, a symbol she had never seen before but which instinct told her, without doubt, that it was hers.

A rope railing marked the boundary, and inside, a huge circular table took up most of the space, its surface carved with intertwined hands. Around the table were fifteen sturdy chairs, each slightly different in style, clearly selected for comfort as much as aesthetics. Low bookshelves were stocked with board games and role-playing game manuals, outside of a corner stacked with pillows that was clearly marked for Samson Drei. Outside the rope boundary, a wide terrace overlooked the ocean and provided a stunning view of every angle of the island that wasn’t obscured by the volcano. A massive brazier stood at the point that faced the open ocean, like a beacon, a lighthouse at night. A small dirt path led to a bench built atop the cliff wall, fifteen or twenty steps from the Pavilion, facing the ocean, big enough for two to sit side by side and watch the waves or talk earnestly.

The whole thing was so Sam it hurt. Andi had to stop and just look at it, chest tight.

Sam noticed. She didn’t gloat—she just stood with her hands on her hips and let Andi take it in.

“Wow,” Andi said, after a minute.

Sam shrugged. “I wanted something nobody else was doing,” she said. “Didn’t want to just… make another fancy bedroom or a pool with jets or whatever. So I built this instead.”

“You made a lighthouse,” Andi said, circling the outer railing.

Sam laughed, but it was embarrassed. “You think?”

“I do.” Andi leaned over, peering at the joinery. “This must have taken you days.”

“Just two. I don’t sleep much,” Sam said, with the casualness of someone who’d pulled all-nighters as an Olympic event. “Mostly curating the decor. The rest I bought with BPs. But all the details are mine.” She sounded sheepish about it.

Sam 5400 BP - 2500 BP = 2900 BP

Andi ran a hand over the nearest column. “What’s this?” she asked, tracing a carved design of a tiny dragon which somehow succeeded at being both fierce and absolutely adorable at the same time.

Sam grinned. “Corporal Nat Twenty. Nat for short. He's the party mascot.” She waited, then added: “You want to see the best part?”

Andi followed her into the pavilion. There was something about the way the roof filtered the sunlight—made it cool, almost underwater, despite the fact that the “walls” were just open air. The wind hummed the chimes above the table, and the shell decorations rattled in a friendly, non-annoying way.

Sam led Andi straight to the map-table. She pressed a hand to its surface, and with a little shift, a design changed, transforming itself into a three-dimensional scale model of the entire island.

Andi whistled. “That’s amazing!”

Sam nodded, proud and awkward at the same time. “It’s not just the island, either. It makes a map of any place I can imagine, so… When we play, we’ll always have the battlemat.”

“It’s incredible,” Andi said, and meant it.

“I wanted something for everyone,” Sam said, after a long moment. “Not just for me. A place people could come and game, or eat, or just hang out and not feel like they were on the clock.” She looked up at Andi. “But also, I guess, because I wanted a home base. Something that was ours.”

Andi swallowed. She felt the words building in her chest, heavy and necessary. “I’m glad you showed me,” she said.

Sam didn’t say anything, but the way her shoulders relaxed said plenty.

For a few minutes they just stood there, looking out at the ocean. The wind tugged at Sam’s curls, and Andi watched the way the sunlight picked out the blue in her hair. It was peaceful, and even though Andi had spent most of her adult life chasing the next thrill, she realized she wanted this kind of quiet, too.

Finally, Sam said, “You want to sit?”

There was no official meal service at the Pavilion, but Sam had planned ahead. She produced a battered thermos and two travel mugs from the mini-fridge under the map-table, then set out a plate of sandwich halves and salted macadamia nuts. It was very Sam: no frills, all function, but done with a level of care that bordered on the obsessive. The sandwiches were cut on the bias. The nuts were poured into a ceramic bowl, not left in their bag. There were slices of cucumber and carrot on the side, because “you need a vegetable if it’s lunch.” Sam winced at that and admitted Dawn may have gotten to her on that one.

They ate in companionable quiet for a minute, both of them shoveling in food like they’d just hiked the actual volcano. Andi tried the macadamias first, then the sandwich, then the tea, working methodically. Sam was less elegant, but more efficient; she devoured a sandwich half, chased it with tea, then pointed at the bowl of nuts and said, “You’re eating at least half of these. Dawn says too much sodium is bad for your heart, and I want to see you live long enough to beat me at chess again.”

“I’m just going to engineer a heart attack so I can have an out when you start gloating,” said Andi. She shot Sam a look over the rim of her mug. “Speaking of gloating. How does it feel? Queen of the harem. Can you even believe it?”

Sam grimaced. “No, actually. I thought if there was going to be a Queen, it would be someone—” she waved her hand in a vague arc, indicating half a dozen other women— “you know. Someone who actually likes-likes you.”

“I thought you’d be more excited,” said Andi, watching her. “You used to joke you were going to stage a coup.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, well. That was before I realized the main job is making sure no one burns down the kitchen or gets murdered by a jellyfish. It’s mostly logistics and emotional first aid. And I already do that. Except now I have a title.” She rolled her eyes. “You sure you didn’t rig the points so it would be me?”

Andi shook her head, smiling. “No rigging. You earned it. For what it’s worth—if I had to trust anyone to keep the harem from melting down if I wasn’t around, I’d trust you. I mean that.”

Sam froze with a nut halfway to her mouth. She put it back in the bowl, her ears flushing slightly above the mess of blue hair. “You’re just saying that because you want me to take it easy on you the next time we game.”

Andi said nothing, just watched her. Waited.

After a moment, Sam relented. “Fine. Thank you,” she said, voice quiet. “That means a lot.” She glanced away, then added, “Still not sure what the ‘strategic advantage’ is. Arabella mentioned it, but didn’t say more. You think it’s going to be something wild?”

Andi shrugged. “Knowing Arabella, it’ll be something useful, but with a twist. Maybe you get to design a transformation or something.”

Sam leaned back in her chair, balancing on two legs. “I’d use it to make you less insufferable and easier on the eyes. J-cup Andi, every day, all day.”

Andi grinned, shrugged, and sipped her tea. “That’s not even a penalty. It’s a lifestyle.” She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder for effect.

Sam laughed, almost choked, and then went quiet for a bit. She popped a few macadamias, chewed thoughtfully, and then said, “I’m glad Erin tied with me.”

“Yeah?” said Andi. She watched Sam’s face; the honesty was obvious, but there was something deeper under it.

“She had it rough at the start,” Sam said. “That first week, she wouldn’t even talk about her feelings. She was always… trying to out-tough everyone. I think being on the show broke her open a little. In a good way.” Sam paused, fidgeted with a stray thread on her shorts. “Alright, broke her open a lot. She came farther than anyone, maybe. I’m glad she gets to share the title.”

Andi considered, then said, “She wouldn’t have taken it well if she had to be a harem Queen solo. Or if she had to fake it for the cameras.” She cut a sandwich triangle in half, more for something to do with her hands than out of hunger. “At least this way, she can hand it off if she needs space.”

Sam snorted, nearly spraying her tea. “Space? Erin doesn’t want space from you.” She set her mug down, tapping it for emphasis. “If she could, she’d weld herself to you. She’d be like one of those marine barnacles, except cuter and way more horny.”

Andi grinned, remembering the previous date—Erin’s aggressive cuddling, the way she had gone full koala and refused to let go all night. “Point taken,” Andi said. “But it’s good she has the option.”

“Sure,” said Sam, “but don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

Andi looked up, met Sam’s eyes, and for once didn’t deflect with a joke. “I do,” she admitted. “I like her a lot, Sam.”

Sam nodded, a slow, satisfied gesture. “Yeah. I know.” She popped another macadamia nut, then said, “Hey. You doing okay with all of this? I mean, this morning—” She gestured vaguely toward the horizon, as if the whole day was a single, unbroken memory. “The baby news, getting married by a goddess yesterday, and Laura moving in, and now you’re going to be a dad times two. I know you’re used to running the show, but… this is big. Even for you.”

Andi toyed with the edge of her cup, watching the shadows of the chimes flicker on the table. “Erin’s carrying twins,” she said, the words sounding unreal even now. “She’s still not convinced it’s possible, but it is.”

Sam’s face split into a delighted, slightly evil smile. “Oh, she told me. Yesterday. Made me and Liesa promise not to tell anyone until she’d figured out how she felt about it. She was so serious. You know I’m pretty sure she almost started crying with joy?”

Andi laughed, soft and real. “Yeah. The last month she’d been freaking out that maybe her being a plant meant she couldn’t have children anymore. She brought it up the night of our date, last round, and again this round. But I think she’s excited now. When we go home, I expect she’ll start reading all those parenting blogs like she’s prepping for a dissertation.”

“That’s how she does everything,” Sam said, picking up the thread. “She loves the homework almost as much as the thing itself.” She drained her mug and refilled it, then went on, “But are you ready? For the whole dad thing?” The question came out gentle, not teasing.

Andi’s smile faded a little. “Honestly? I don’t know. Maybe nobody ever is. But I think I’ll do okay.” She hesitated, then added, “I’m not going to be like Laura’s dad.”

Sam considered that for a beat. “You won’t,” she said. “I know you. Those kids will wrap you around their little fingers.”

They ate quietly for a few minutes. Andi watched the sea, the endless churn of waves, and felt the odd gravity of the moment. This wasn’t just a life update over sandwiches; it was a checkpoint, the kind she used to share with Sam every week back in Chicago, in her tiny apartment with the sticky cabinets and the weird-smelling hallway. She missed that version of Sam—a little. But she liked this one way more.

Sam broke the silence first. “So, if Erin’s having twins, and Claire’s pregnant too—” she let the words hang, raised her eyebrows, “—what are you going to do if they both have girls?”

Andi didn’t miss a beat. “Laura asked the same thing. Hope for the best, and start prepping for the inevitable.”

Sam’s face was blank. “Inevitable what?”

“Them teaming up to destroy me,” Andi said. “It’s simple math. Thirteen women in the harem, at least three daughters… Can you imagine the chaos?”

Sam laughed, a single bark. “Oh, you’re doomed. We’ll run you ragged.” She sobered, just a little. “But you’ll love it.”

Andi smiled, because she knew it was true. She wondered, briefly, how she’d gotten so lucky. Then she remembered how many times she’d almost quit, or given up, or disappeared entirely. “What about you, Sam?” she asked, changing the subject. “You ever think about it?”

Sam shrugged. “Not really. I always thought if I had a kid around, it’d be because I’d be the weird aunt who teaches them to swear and buy them a puppy without asking first.” She glanced sideways at Andi. “Never figured I’d have a girlfriend who actually wants kids. Or, you know, a magical harem family where it could happen.”

Andi said, “You and Liesa would be awesome moms.” She meant it, and Sam could tell.

Sam shot her a look, half flattered and half embarrassed. “Yeah. Maybe. It’s still weird, though, right? Weirder than magic, even.” She made a face. “And speaking of weird—Are you sure those two are the only ones who are pregnant?”

Andi paused, chewing her lower lip. She could have lied, but Sam would see right through it. “There is another one,” she said, quietly. “But she hasn’t told anyone yet. I want her to do it when she’s ready.”

Sam’s eyes got wide. “Are you going to make me guess?”

Andi shook her head, then caught the glimmer in Sam’s eye and realized there was no stopping her. “Go ahead,” she said. “But I won’t confirm unless you get it.”

Sam tapped her chin, thinking. “Dawn’s not pregnant—she’d have told everyone already. Love that girl, but she’s the worst at keeping secrets she’s excited about.” She ticked off on her fingers, “It could be Emi, but you would have blushed at the mention. And she’d be beet-red permanently by this point. So not Emi.” She paused. “Marissa?”

Andi grinned. “She’d never forgive herself if it happened outside a meticulously planned window. She’s got a five-year plan for everything.”

Sam nodded. “Myra?”

Andi raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, not Myra.” Sam leaned in, her voice low and theatrical. “Is it Riley?”

Andi quickly said, “No. I don’t think she’s ready for that. I don’t know if she ever will be.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. She glanced at the Pavilion’s entrance, as if expecting someone to burst in and reveal themselves. Then her face split into a sly grin. “Is it Chloe?”

Andi choked, caught mid-sip of her tea. It took a moment to recover. Sam pumped both fists in the air, victorious. “It’s totally Chloe. I knew it!”

“Don’t say anything,” Andi said, voice low, “she doesn’t want to go public yet.”

Sam nodded, all mock solemnity. “Of course. I’m just glad it’s happening for her. She wants it so bad she gets teary at every baby mention.” She leaned back, looked up at the banners overhead, then back at Andi. “You’re going to be so outnumbered. I hope you’re ready.”

Andi laughed, but it was softer than usual. “I’m just glad she’s happy. She deserves it.”

They sat quietly for a while, letting the wind and the hush of ocean fill the space between. After a while, Andi reached for the bowl of nuts and scooted it between them. She let the gesture hang there as an invitation. “So,” she said, “how are things really going with Liesa?”

Sam didn’t answer right away. She grabbed a macadamia, rolled it between her fingers, then set it back in the bowl. “We’re good,” she said, “I mean, it’s wild. I thought when we first came here, I’d last a week tops, then flame out or go home. But I’m… really happy here. With her.” Sam looked up, her smile a little shaky. “Sometimes I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? Like, maybe she’ll wake up and realize I’m not worth the jet lag.”

Andi snorted, “She’d take three flights just to see you smile.” She meant it, and Sam seemed to know it, because she ducked her head and let the words land.

“She says she wants me to go to Antwerp with her,” Sam said. “Like, stay the whole summer, see the museums and the beaches and her weird Belgian night markets. I told her she should come with me to the U.S. and do a road trip, but she thinks driving across America is basically a **** wish. She says we’d be murdered by a trucker in the first week.”

Andi smiled, “You’d be the trucker.”

Sam’s face cracked into a grin. “You get it,” she said. “I mean, I want to do both. I want to go everywhere with her. But—”

“But you can,” Andi cut in, her eyes lighting up. “You’re the Harem Queen now. You can anchor Liesa’s bond if I’m not around. You could go to Belgium, or New York, or the Moon. The bond will hold.”

Sam hesitated. “Yeah, but…” She looked away, picking at the hem of her shorts. “I’d still need my daily hug. I’d probably go into withdrawal without it.”

Andi looked at her, suddenly serious. “You could always upgrade the transformation. You know that, right? It’s not locked.”

Sam made a face. “I know. I just…” She shook her head. “Never wanted to mess with it. It was the only thing that worked, when I first got here. I didn’t want to lose it.”

Andi got it in a flash—the loneliness, the old story, the way Sam’s world had cracked in half when her parents cut her off. She’d spent so long patching up other people’s wounds that she’d never really let herself heal her own. And the daily hug was more than just a transformation—it was the one sure thing she could count on.

Without thinking, Andi reached across the table and squeezed Sam’s hand. “You’ll always have a family with me,” she said, soft but strong. “Even if you go to Belgium. Or Mars. Or wherever. I promise.”

Sam blinked, and for a second it looked like she might actually tear up, but she just grinned instead. “That’s a lot of mush, Cooper,” she said, her voice steady. “Who knew being in a straight guy’s harem would be the best thing that ever happened to me?”

Andi rolled her eyes, but didn’t let go of Sam’s hand. “You’re such a dork.”

Sam squeezed back, hard. “You’re my favorite dork,” she said, then laughed, a big, open sound that bounced off the Pavilion roof and out to sea.

After a moment, Andi let go and brushed a crumb from the corner of her mouth. “Do you remember when we first met?”

Sam didn’t miss a beat. “I do. You spilled coffee all over my brand new phone, then tried to fix it with a hairdryer in the dorm bathroom. You made it worse.”

Andi grinned, “But I paid for the replacement. And you got a best friend out of that, too.”

Sam nodded. “It was the best deal of my life.” She took a breath, then looked at Andi, serious. “Was that really the day for you?”

Andi nodded, slow. “It was. I was so lost back then. Still trying to figure out who I wanted to be. Still broken, and I hadn’t met Erin or Liesa yet. But you made me feel… safe. Like it was okay to be weird, or scared, or even sad. It was like finding I had a long-lost sister.”

Sam went quiet, her face softening. Then, with a sudden move, she wrapped Andi in a hug from across the table. It was awkward, and a little too tight, and it knocked over a few cucumber slices, but neither of them cared. After a long, comfortable silence, Sam pulled back. “So,” she said, “do you want to know what happened this morning?”

Andi cocked her head. “What?”

Sam looked at her hands, then at Andi, then back at her hands. “I proposed to Liesa.”

For a second, Andi just stared, blank. Then, suddenly, she lit up. “You did? Sam! What did she say?”

Sam grinned. “She said yes. And then she cried, and then I cried, and then we did the thing you’re supposed to do when you’re engaged, and then we played Mario Kart in the rec room until we stopped shaking and had to come to the meeting.”

Andi laughed, then reached over and hugged Sam again, this time with both arms. “I’m so happy for you,” she said. “You and Liesa are perfect together.”

Sam pulled back, searching Andi’s face. “You’re really okay with it?”

Andi gave her a mock glare. “Sam. What Liesa and I have is ours. But what you and Liesa have is beautiful, and it’s not the same. Maybe someday she’ll want to marry me, too, but right now? This is about you two. And I’m honored to be part of it.” She grinned. “But if I’m not the best man, you can forget being my best woman at my wedding.”

Sam let out a long, shaky breath. “You got it. You know, it’s weird. I spent my whole life thinking there was only one way to be happy. One way to do love. And now…” She shrugged, at a loss. “Now it feels like anything is possible.”

Andi smiled. “It is. Even for dorks like us.”

They shared a look, then both burst into giggles, the kind that left their stomachs aching and their faces wet with tears they’d never admit to.

At last, Sam wiped her eyes and said, “You know what’s really wild? It took a magical island, a bunch of physical and mental transformations, and the resurrection of your lost love before you decided you wanted to get married.”

Andi nodded. “Yeah. But I wouldn’t change it.”

They bumped fists, then poured the rest of the tea and sat in the sunlight, watching the ocean and talking about all the weird places they’d go when the Game was over.

At some point, when the ocean had blurred to a line between blue and gold and most of the food was gone, Sam went quiet. Not in the way she did when she was lost in thought, but the way she did when she was winding up for a new topic.

Andi noticed. “Okay. Hit me,” she said.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so thirsty.”

Andi grinned, but she waited, letting Sam set her own pace.

After a long sip of cold tea, Sam asked, “Are you happy? Like, really?” Her tone was casual but not unserious. “I know you have Laura back, and that’s supposed to be the endgame, right? But I also know you. Sometimes, you get what you want, and then you spend the next six months wondering if you deserved it.”

Andi let out a slow breath. “Yeah. It’s a lot. Having her back, I mean. Sometimes I still wake up and think she’s a dream, or a glitch in the system, and I don’t want to touch her because maybe she’ll vanish.” She glanced up at the wind-chime moving lazily above the table. “But she’s real. And she’s happy. Even when it’s weird. So, yeah. I’m happy.”

Sam nodded, not smiling, just holding the answer for a beat. “I’m proud of you, Andy,” she said. “For sticking it out, and for not breaking. You always said you didn’t know if there was anything left in you that could love another woman. But you did.” She grinned, the edge coming back. “And you didn’t even have to go full evil overlord. Impressive restraint.”

Andi made a show of bowing. “Thanks, Sam. Your approval means everything to me.”

Sam flicked a nut at her. “Idiot.” Then, after a beat: “I’ll stand with you at the wedding. That’s not negotiable.”

That threw Andi off, and she almost teared up, except Sam was already moving on.

“Okay,” Sam said, shaking her hands out. “Let’s get scientific. Aside from the ones who already signed on—Laura, Erin, Claire, Dawn, and Emi—who do you think actually wants to marry you?”

Andi blinked. “You’re not even going to wait for the open bar?”

Sam laughed, a single bark. “Nope. Gotta set the over-under for Liesa. She’s got a betting pool.”

Andi blinked, then burst out laughing. “Wait, you and Liesa have a betting pool?”

Sam smirked. “Why not? It’s the only real sport left on the island. That, and spikeball, and I keep destroying everyone at spikeball.” She leaned in, elbows on the map-table. “Okay. Let’s start with Norah. What are the odds that she’ll want to get hitched before the ceremony?”

Andi pictured Norah: fierce, prickly, always a little too aware of herself, as if every moment were a test of composure and reputation. “I’d say… slim to none. She thinks the whole thing is hilarious, and I’m pretty sure she sees the harem as a rebellion against her mom’s ideas about marriage, not a stepping stone to it.”

Sam nodded, ticking an invisible box. “Agreed. But. She’s also the type who’ll do a grand, dramatic reversal if something shakes her up hard enough. My guess: if someone she cares about gets hurt, or she thinks she’s about to lose you, she’ll go all in, just to prove she’s not a coward.”

Andi made a face. “That would track.” She considered, “But I don’t think she sees me as someone she could lose. If anything, she likes being the odd number at the table, no contracts.”

“Unless the contract is to never stop being a pain in your ass,” said Sam. “That she’d sign in blood.” They both grinned.

Andi continued: “She does like Dawn, though. And Emi, and Claire. Sometimes I think the only reason she doesn’t go full villainess is she wants to impress them.”

Sam’s face went still for a second, then she said, “She and Dawn have been going for runs together. Did you know that?”

Andi shook her head. “No. I didn’t even know Norah ran.”

“She didn’t, until a week ago. She almost died the first time, but now she’s up just after dawn every day, just so she can keep up.” Sam snickered. “Apparenly she runs in heels, because her transformation makes it easy for her to do so. Bet you five bucks she’s just trying to keep up with Dawn’s boobs.”

Andi grinned, but then said, “She is a bit of a boob girl.”

They both burst into laughter, and for a second, the only sound was the wind and the crash of the sea below.

“Okay,” Sam said, “next: Marissa.”

Andi sobered, thinking about the statuesque psychologist with the movie-star hair and the deep well of patience. “She’d be the most into the idea of marriage, except for one thing: she still feels like she’s late to the story. You know how sometimes, even when you’re already inside the house, you still think you’re at the doorstep?”

Sam considered. “Yeah. She hangs back. But I think it’s more than that. She… respects the institution. Like, it’s not a game to her. She’d only do it if she was sure she could give it her whole heart. And maybe she doesn’t think you’re ready for that.”

Andi looked up, surprised. “Me, or herself?”

Sam shrugged. “Both, maybe. But you know she loves you, right?”

Andi hesitated, then nodded. “I do. She tells me things—private stuff, stuff she doesn’t share with anyone else. But she’s never once said the actual words. Like she’s waiting for permission.”

Sam prodded. “You could ask her. If you really wanted to.”

“I might,” Andi admitted. “But not until she’s ready.”

Sam considered, then nodded. “I’ll put her at forty percent. Final answer.”

Andi snorted. “You realize you’re the only one who cares about the percentages.”

Sam pointed at herself. “It’s called being a project manager. Even in paradise, somebody’s got to keep the flowchart going.” She turned the page in her invisible ledger. “Alright, Chloe.”

Andi smiled. “She’d faint if I even hinted at proposing. She’s so shy about it that if you so much as mention the word ‘wedding,’ she gets milk everywhere.”

Sam nearly spit out her tea. “Gross.”

“You know it’s true.”

Sam wiped her mouth, giggling. “Yeah, she’s a mess.” She thought for a second. “But you don’t think she wants it?”

Andi shook her head. “No, I think she wants it more than anyone. I think she just doesn’t think she’s allowed to have it. She’s been telling herself her whole life that she’d mess it up, or she doesn’t deserve it. But, you should have seen her yesterday, when Laura told her she forgave her, and that they’d always be friends. She’s been walking around like she’s ten pounds lighter since then.”

Sam’s face softened. “That’s sweet. I always figured Chloe and marriage went together like a comforter and a soft blanket: one is better with the other, but both can stand alone if they have to.”

Andi shrugged. “I think she will. Not today, maybe not even next week. But I bet you it’ll happen before the game is over.”

Sam tapped her lip, as if adding up a tip. “Seventy percent, then. Maybe ninety if you get her and Riley together on a night when they’re both in their feelings.”

“Is that your prediction for Riley?” Andi asked, teasing.

Sam thought about it. “Riley’s the real wild card. She’s had it all—love, loss, marriage, ****. She doesn’t trust happy endings, and she doesn’t want to make a promise she can’t keep.” Sam’s voice dropped a little. “But she’s also lonely as hell, and she’s been looking at you like you’re the last page of a good book, lately.”

Andi said, “She told me once that she doesn’t want to be anyone’s afterthought. If she asked, it’d be because she knew I’d pick her, every day. Not just once, but forever.”

Sam’s expression was wistful. “It’s the trauma talking. She just wants proof she won’t be left behind.” She sighed. “So what do you think? Does she go for it?”

Andi shrugged. “She’ll need to see it work for someone else, first. Maybe she’ll wait until after the ceremony, or maybe she’ll try it at the very end, when there’s nothing left to lose.”

Sam snorted. “Drama queen to the last.”

“She’d hate to be called that,” said Andi.

“She loves it,” Sam countered.

They both laughed again, then fell quiet.

After a while, Sam said, “Let’s do Emily next. I love Emily.”

“Me too,” said Andi. “I think she would have said yes, a hundred times, if I’d asked in the first week. But lately, I think she wants to be a real person first. A girlfriend, not just a toy.”

Sam nodded. “You noticed that too?”

Andi smiled, warm. “She’s been putting up boundaries. Vetoed those two transformations, when she thought they would turn her into ‘communal property.’ I was proud of her.”

“Yeah,” said Sam, “she’s stronger than she looks. I think she’ll ask someday. Just not now. She wants to believe she’s really loved, not just programmed to be used.”

Andi said, “So what’s your percentage?”

Sam’s answer was immediate. “Ninety-nine. She just wants to believe she’s worth it. Give her time and attention, and she’ll melt in your arms, not because you tell her to but because she will realize that’s what she always wanted.”

Andi agreed. “She’s worth it.”

Sam looked up, then said, “Myra.”

Andi hesitated. “Myra’s the hardest to predict. Sometimes I think she’d marry me tomorrow if she thought it would fix everything she ever did wrong. But sometimes I think she’d run a mile in the other direction, because she’s still not sure she’s earned the right to be forgiven.”

Sam’s eyes were sharp. “You think she wants it?”

“I think she wants to be included. To be part of a family. But she’s so used to being the fixer, the caretaker, she doesn’t know how to just ask for something for herself.”

Sam tapped the table, thinking. “I don’t know. I think she’ll surprise you. She’s got more backbone than she lets on.”

Andi considered this, then nodded. “Maybe. She’s changed a lot since the start. Maybe she’ll surprise herself, too.”

Sam made a show of writing in her invisible notebook. “I’ll put her down as a dark horse. Sixty percent, with a bonus if you do something dramatic for her.”

Andi grinned. “You want me to make a grand gesture?”

Sam’s look was serious. “Sometimes people need it. Especially the ones who think they don’t deserve one.”

They let that sit for a bit.

Then Sam said, “Okay, Liesa.”

Andi laughed. “Isn’t she already engaged to you?”

Sam smiled, abashed. “Yeah. But she said she would say yes, if you asked her to marry you. Maybe we can all get matching rings and do a band tour of Europe.”

“I’d go to Antwerp,” Andi said. “But only if I can sleep on the roof of your camper van and eat waffles for breakfast.”

Sam burst out laughing. “Deal.” She set the metaphorical notebook aside, then leaned back in her chair, arms folded behind her head.

They looked out at the ocean together, letting the breeze do the talking for a while.

“You know,” Sam said, after a long moment, “there’s something kind of beautiful about all this. Like, none of us ever thought we’d end up here. But now we have a chance to just… choose each other. Without any of the old bullshit getting in the way.”

Andi nodded, her throat a little tight. “Yeah,” she said. “I never thought I’d have any of this. Not after Laura.”

Sam reached over, squeezed her hand. “You earned it. Don’t forget that.”

For a while, they just sat together in silence, letting the world be simple. No drama, no point-scoring, just the clean, honest air of two friends figuring out how to build a life from scratch.

Sam stood up after a bit, stretched, then said, “You know what this means, right?”

“What?” said Andi.

“You’re going to have to come up with vows for a whole bunch of women,” Sam said, deadpan. “Better start now, or you’ll be reciting them until the volcano erupts.”

Andi laughed, but the sound was part delight, part terror. “I’ll just plagiarize from Shakespeare.”

Sam snorted, then looked out at the ocean again. “So. What do you want to do next? We’ve got the whole island and at least an hour before the next big thing.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of low-stakes adventure. They pulled out Twilight Struggle, debated rules with the intensity of Supreme Court justices. For a while, it was just Andi, Sam, and the board—no harem, no transformations, no impossible expectations. Just a game, shared together, between two friends who had found each other and never let go.

But after an hour or so, Andi could tell something was up. It was the little things: the way Sam kept glancing at the entrance every time the wind rattled the Pavilion’s fabric, the way her hands worked through the snacks on autopilot without tasting them.

“You waiting for someone?” Andi said, eyeing the suspiciously even stack of character sheets sitting on the low bookshelf by the railing.

Sam grinned. “Just making sure my best player’s ready. Could be a big turnout.”

Andi rolled her eyes. “Is that why you have three full sets of dice out? Or is this another Sam specialty—where you kill us all with a surprise encounter in the first session?”

Sam sniffed, affronted. “First, I never kill the party unless they really deserve it. Second, these dice are for luck. I like to see which color feels most murderous. Third, I heard a rumor someone else might be coming, so I wanted to be prepared.”

“A rumor?” Andi raised an eyebrow. “From who?”

Sam shrugged, her mouth twisting in a way that meant she wasn’t saying. “Word travels. You know how it is.”

Andi sipped her tea, watching her friend with amused suspicion.