Well now. The end again. Imagine that.
Oliver moved in for real, and I had to admit I liked having him in my space. He looked great on Egyptian cotton and even better in my shower...
Ahem.
I had to admit, though, I kind of lived in constant worry he'd make the massive mistake of asking me to marry him at some point. Not that it would be a disaster, but... yeah. Disaster. Two husbands were enough, thanks. I was rather enjoying this whole soulmate bonding thing without needed some kind of outside indicator we were meant to be.
We were. I had no doubt whatsoever of that. And, thankfully, my guilt over my previous two loves hadn't surfaced. Because I guess finally finding him made the past just part of the process.
Awesome.
Besides, he seemed to know better than to bring up the whole holy matrimony thing. Maybe Order soldiers didn't get married? Knowing his mother killed his father to protect him, it was likely Oliver equated wedded bliss with murder and mayhem.