I frown at him. “Because their proposals are mutually exclusive. What would be the point in one proposing to the other when they’re already engaged after the first proposal?”
“Unless—”
“The only other way,” I say at the same time, “is if we could somehow get them to propose to each other at the exact same time.”
“How would that work?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “It probably wouldn’t.”
“We would have to know what both of them are planning and then convince them both to do it on the same day,” he says.
“I mean, I know exactly what Tina is planning and when,” I remind him. “But that’s only half of the equation.”
“Ryan’s always busy with work. Maybe he would take me up on it if I offered to help out.”
I’m surprised that Oliver is even entertaining my ridiculous idea, but since he is, I decide to keep pushing. “Tell him that you’ll take care of the logistical stuff. Then we can coordinate everything together, and they’ll never know that we’re in cahoots.”
“Cahoots?” he repeats. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone use that word in real life.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re right. It’s a stupid idea and it would never work.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s what you’re thinking.”
“It is a little out there, but…” He leaves that thought hanging in the air between us for what feels like a long time but is probably only a few seconds.
“But?” I prod.
“We need to call a truce,” he says.
“A truce?” I repeat. “Why do we need a truce?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know,” he says. “This thing with you stealing the ring isn’t the first time you and I have butted heads. If we’re going to work together, we need to play nice. Both of us.”
I want to argue with him. I want to blame him for all of the fights we’ve gotten into over the last year, but then I’d just be proving his point. I cross my arms over my chest. “Fine. A truce.”
He reaches his hand out. I look at it, then up at him, before I take his hand and shake it.
“None of this is going to matter if we don’t cancel this jumbotron message in time,” I remind him.
“Right. We better get in there.”
We push through the door at the same time, bumping into each other as we clumsily cross through the doorway. I elbow him out of my way. So much for that truce we just called. A man and a woman, both well-dressed, stand in the office next to a desk. They stop mid-conversation to stare at us.
“Can I help you?” the woman asks. She seems annoyed that we’re here.
“We need to cancel a message on the jumbotron,” Oliver says.
“All deposits are final,” she says.
“I don’t care about the money. I just need the message to not appear.”
She frowns. “What’s the issue?”
“Someone was going to propose, but it can’t happen anymore.”
“Someone?” she asks. “Only the person who reserved the message can cancel it.”
