Waking Up to Love (4 page)

Whatever.

She knew that this was the type of thing she'd have to get used to. Sharing chairs. Close contact. It was all for Debra's benefit.

“Oh hey!” Rob shouted. “You remember the time Ramona and Nessa were over and they—”

While his brother started a new story, Scott whispered to Ramona, “I hope this is okay.”

“It's fine,” she said.

But it was more than fine. It felt good to have him so close, side to side. She felt comfortable with him there. She felt comfortable feeling his warmth.

“…you remember that, Nessa?” Rob asked.

Ramona was getting tired again, so it took her a few seconds to realize that Rob was talking to her. “Uh, yeah. Good times.”

They talked and laughed for a few minutes. Scott's arm ended up around her shoulders. Her head ended up leaning against his side. And her eyes ended up closed. She fell asleep.

The next thing she knew, early morning sunlight streamed in through the hospital windows. All night, she had slept in Scott's arms.

• • •

Scott's old truck bounced down the road, and Ramona could feel every pothole and bump. The streets around the hospital were reasonably well paved, or at least well paved by Arizona standards, but the old Chevy made it feel like they were on the cratered surface of the moon.

Ramona wasn't prone to getting carsick, but she felt a little greener nonetheless.

“You still like working at the library?” Scott asked.

“Uh-huh,” Ramona said. She wasn't in the mood for small talk right now, mostly because she kept thinking about all the stuff she'd have to do in the next week, but also because of the general stomach queasiness.

“That was always the perfect place for you,” he said, seemingly unaware of his passenger's slow transition from pink to green. “Quiet, peaceful, relaxed.”

“Uh-huh.”

Finally, they turned onto Highway 95, the main street through town. Thanks to the traffic, the truck slowed down to a crawl. Ramona could relax.

“I'm not saying you're quiet and peaceful,” Scott explained. “But you've always loved your books. And I—”

“Let's just sort through a couple of things first,” Ramona cut him off.

“Definitely not relaxed,” Scott mumbled to himself, even though Ramona could clearly hear him.

“Look, Scott. I'm doing you a favor. A big one. And if I'm going to get through this alive—”

At the word “alive,” Scott rammed his foot onto the brake and Ramona pitched forward. They reached a red light.

“We need to set up some rules,” she continued. “I need to know exactly what you want from me.”

“Okay,” he said. He looked straight ahead. When they were in the midst of small talk, he couldn't keep his eyes off her, but now that things got serious, his eyes were glued to the road. “It's really simple. When Mom's awake and puttering around the house or whatever, I would like you to be there. As my wife.”

“As Nessa,” she corrected him.

“That's what I said.”

It made her mad that he still couldn't tell the difference between those two things.

“I hope you don't expect me to cook,” she said.

“Oh God, no.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means I remember when you were in eighth-grade home ec. I remember the bubbling lab experiments you brought home for me and Rob to try.”

She laughed. “They weren't that bad.”

“Okay. Never mind. Just understand that there will be no cooking involved. You know my mom. As long as there are other humans in the house, she's constantly making sure stomachs are full. It's her thing.”

For a second, Ramona thought she smelled a whiff of McInney chocolate-chip cookies. Then the phantom smell was gone.

“It's going to be hard, you know.”

“What is?” he asked.

“Pretending to be my sister.”

“Well, you already look the part.” He finally looked at her this time. Just for a second. Maybe two. With two fingers, he casually pushed a strand of hair away from her face. It was instinctual. He probably didn't even know that he'd made contact. He certainly didn't realize that he'd caused her skin to tingle and her heart to shake.

“Thanks.” She wasn't amused.

Scott laughed again.

God, that laugh made her remember so much, both good and bad. But right then, all she could think about was freshman year of high school, so many years ago. Puberty had just kicked into high gear for them both, and Ramona was finally starting to grapple with her feelings for Scott. Her complicated, more-than-friends feelings.

She remembered pulling him aside in between their classes. She remembered lockers slamming all around them. That day, she'd asked him why he never asked her out. They were practically joined at the hip back then. Why not take things further?

And his answer? He laughed and said he couldn't handle her. It was his way of making a joke out of something serious. And she never brought it up again.

“So I guess I'll have to start acting more like my sister now,” she said.

“I guess you will.”

“I am not going to get a manicure, if that's what you're thinking.”

“That's not what I was thinking.”

“Good,” Ramona said. “So, um, how do I act more like my sister?”

Scott thought for a second. “Well, you know how to do the Nessa-laugh.”

Ramona dipped her hair back and wheezed.

“That's the one,” Scott said. “Kind of impressive, actually. But more important than that, you just need to act more … proper, I guess.”

“Proper?”

“Yeah. Here's an example. Say you drop something under the refrigerator.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“I don't know. A magnet.”

“An important magnet?”

“Sure,” he said. “A golden magnet. Whatever. So you, Nessa Scapizi, drop a magnet under the fridge. What do you do?”

“I get on my hands and knees and scoop it out,” she said. “If I can't reach it, I'll use … a spatula.”

Scott made a noise like a game show buzzer. “Sorry. Incorrect. You walk into the other room and recruit someone else to get it for you.”

“But that's not right.”

“That's Nessa,” he said. “Think about all the times we played in the mud in elementary school. Did Nessa join us? No, she sat on the nearest rock so her dress wouldn't get dirty. Your sister would never join us when we swam in the river. She didn't help us make stink bombs. And she certainly wouldn't work at a job where she's restocking dusty books onto shelves. She is … proper.”

More like uptight,
Ramona thought, but she didn't say it out loud.

They passed through the center of town, seemingly hitting every red light. The air was still thick and moist from last night's rain. Early summer wind passed through their half-open windows. Since this was Arizona, early summer wind felt more like midsummer wind, like
dog-days-of-summer
wind, but Ramona couldn't complain.

Besides, Scott's A/C had died a hero's death a couple of summers ago, back when anything below triple digits was basically impossible.

“Hey, look where we are,” Scott said. He pointed toward the old library building up ahead. Ramona had been working there for five years now, but even before that, she'd spent hours upon hours there reading through the new releases. Sometimes, Scott had joined her. Well, before they started high school. Before bookworms were officially uncool.

“That's my spot,” Ramona said. She was proud of her little library and all the stuff it did for their community. Scott was definitely a local hero, with his various ranger adventures, but Ramona did her part, too.

She smiled.

A few seconds later, the library was nothing more than a shrinking reflection in the rearview mirror.

When they were kids, Ramona would always gravitate toward the romances first. Anything with a happy ending. Life was so complicated and nothing ever ended up the way she wanted, so it was a relief to read about characters who found their happy endings, who got what they deserved.

Scott, meanwhile, only read adventure stories. The bloodier, the better. If there was a bazooka on the cover, or a grappling hook, or a bomb, that was all he cared about.

That was probably why he'd grown up to be such an adventurer himself—

Which made Ramona think that perhaps this whole charade was just another adventure for him. Sure, he was doing it for the right reason—his mother—but surely he could've thought of something less complicated than a fake wife and a twin-swap. It was almost like he had cast her as the busty blond sidekick on the cover of one of his action novels, even though she was neither busty nor blond.

No,
she thought. He wouldn't. He couldn't. He loved his mother too much for that. He respected Ramona too much for that.

The warm wind whipped through the truck. She pulled her hair back behind her ears.

Life wasn't like those novels. It was messier, more complicated. Besides, she couldn't get inside Scott's head. She'd have to assume that he was doing this for the right reasons. But no matter the reasons, she needed to set up the ground rules. Whatever type of book they were in—romance, adventure, or something in between—she had to make sure they were on the same page.

“And where exactly am I supposed to stay during this whole situation?” Ramona asked.

“At your apartment,” he answered. “And I'll stay at the house.”

“But your mom doesn't know that you moved back in after the wedding. How are you going to explain—?”

“I'll say that I'm staying at the house while she gets better. She doesn't have to know anything about the other house, the one that I lost.” The “other house,” as he described it, was the one that he and Nessa had picked out together. The little blue house with the white trim. Ramona knew that it meant a lot to him; it was his first real place outside of his childhood home. But after Nessa left—

It was just a rental anyway.

“She doesn't need to know,” Scott repeated. A shadow crossed his face.

“So I'll stay at my place?” Ramona clarified.

“Unless you wanna share a room at McInney Manor,” he offered.

She wouldn't dare. Talk about an unnecessary temptation. Sure, it would make more sense for their story, but she wouldn't put herself through that kind of heartache. It would be like flying too close to the sun.

“I think I'll pass,” she said.

“Understandable.”

“And, um, what about … public appearances?” she asked.

“What? Like parades?”

“No. I mean—”

“You won't have to make any speeches or attend any cocktail parties, if that's what you mean.”

“That is not what I mean, Scott McInney. I'm talking about … we're not going to pretend to be married when your mom isn't around.”

“Of course not.”

Ramona breathed a sigh of relief, even if there were definitely other feelings mixed in there, too.

“This is just for Mom's benefit. When she's not around, you can do whatever you want to do. She's not going to get a lot of visitors, and the ones who do show up will be thoroughly prepped beforehand. You don't have to worry about keeping up appearances.”

“Good to know.”

They both smiled at each other, and for a second, it felt like old times, like the sort of comfortable silence that you only experience with someone you've known for decades.

Suddenly, Ramona realized that Scott's old, rusted Chevy had pulled into her apartment complex. The ride was over. That was it.

More importantly, the last few minutes had been on a twisting dirt road. Potholes and lumps and tree branches. She should've felt it; she should've been as sick and green as she was at the beginning of the ride. Instead—

She felt okay.

Better than okay. She felt good.

She popped the door open and unbuckled herself. “So you sure you're ready for this?” she asked.

Scott smiled at her. It was the same smile he had as a kid. The same dimples. “I'm as ready as you are.”

• • •

Ramona re-fluffed the couch pillows. Rob re-stacked the coasters. Any second now, Scott and Debra would walk through that door.

“Why can't this be a surprise party?” Jeffrey said.

Rob knelt down so that he was eye-level with his son. “Because we don't want to scare Grandma's heart. We do a lot of stuff to make sure her heart is okay.” With that last sentence, he made a quick side glance to Ramona.

“Also,” she joined in, “surprise parties are horrible.”

Ramona had less than fond memories of the surprise party Debra threw for Ramona and her sister twenty years ago. They both ran screaming from the house before anyone could tell them it was a party. Ramona would've called 9-1-1 if Scott hadn't chased after her and explained the situation.

Click.

Someone was at the front door.

“They're coming,” Jeffrey proclaimed. “They're coming.”

In unison, Rob, Jeffrey, and Ramona sat down on the big couch. They smiled and tried to look casual.

Scott walked in first, looking around to see if the coast was clear. Then he ushered Debra inside.

Ramona and Scott yelled, “Hello!”

Jeffrey said, “Surprise!” Actually, he whispered “surprise.” Maybe that was his way of making sure his grandma was surprised, but not too surprised.

“A surprise party?” Debra said. “Thank you.”

“It was my idea,” Jeffrey said proudly.

Debra looked all around the living room, and she clearly liked what she saw. Good thing, too, because Ramona, Scott, and Rob had spent all morning sprucing things up and buying extra supplies for her big return.

Jeffrey ran over and tugged on Debra's dress. “Grandma. Can I give you a tour?”