Chapter 28
On Christmas morning, Ramona wakes up at a quarter to four and can’t get back to sleep. As quietly as she can, not wanting to disturb Nick—because god, does he look precious like this, pillow-mussed hair and long lashes brushing his cheeks—she slips on a sweater and tiptoes downstairs.
And swallows back a yelp when she spots someone on the couch in the living room.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Lexi asks.
Ramona presses a hand to her pounding heart. “You scared me. What does it say about us that we woke up before all the kids?”
Lexi laughs, making room for her on the couch and tossing her a blanket. Her red hair is in a messy ponytail, her laptop open in front of her. Outside there’s a blanket of fresh snowfall.
“You’re really working over the holidays, huh. That’s dedication.”
“Or masochism.” Lexi shuts the laptop with a shake of her head. “I love it, though.”
“Environmental lawyer, right? I took marine biology this quarter, and we learned about all these court cases that threatened various species. As soon as Nick told me about your job, I pictured you marching into the courtroom in a full suit of armor, defending all the whales.”
Lexi just gives her a curious look, like she wasn’t expecting Ramona’s interest. “That’s more or less what it’s like. Minus the armor.”
“Important work,” Ramona says, meaning it.
“Thank you. I try.”
They fall into silence for a while. For all her anxiety, Nick’s family has been lovely, welcoming her more than she imagined they ever would. And Audrey—Ramona would probably die for her.
Yesterday on their snowy walk, Audrey opened up about the girls at school who’d been teasing her, the so-called friends Nick told her about on Halloween. She asked for Ramona’s advice, and while part of her wanted to say fuck ’em, she knew that was not appropriate for a thirteen-year-old.
“You have so much time to have adult friends,” Ramona said. “The whole rest of your life, it’s only adult friends. I’m not saying you need to make nice with these girls specifically—frankly, you deserve better—but it’s not the worst thing, being thirteen, is it?”
“Sometimes it feels that way,” Audrey said, and Ramona’s heart ached.
“If there’s one thing I regret,” Ramona continued, “it’s that I didn’t make close friends when I was your age. I was too busy trying to make all the adults happy. And I really, truly wish that I’d been able to just…be a kid. For a little bit longer.”
And even though when I was your age sounds so cliché, it must be because of who she is that Audrey seems to take it seriously.
Then Audrey mentioned a new girl at school—“We both have the same Arlie J pin on our backpacks!”—with the kind of optimism that convinced Ramona everything would be okay, especially after they spent the rest of the walk doing a deep dive through Arlie’s whole catalog.
Now Ramona’s eager to impress Audrey’s mother.
“Amazing that you have all this,” Ramona says, and she hopes Lexi understands that she doesn’t just mean the cabin.
“We feel really lucky.” Lexi crosses her legs, takes a deep breath.
“Look, you seem great, and I see the way Nick looks at you—he clearly adores you. My daughter idolizes you. There’s no tactful way to ask this, but you have to know this is weird for all of us.
Well, our parents don’t fully get it, but that’s to be expected.
And I just need to know, with you and my brother…
it’s real, right? Or is there something I’m not getting? ”
There’s no cruelty in Lexi’s words, just a genuine curiosity.
He clearly adores you.
Ramona tries not to let her discomfort show.
“What, you don’t think a psychology professor would ever go for someone like me?
” Lexi cracks a smile, but waits for a real answer.
“I care about him. A lot.” Even that feels like an understatement.
“I get wanting to be protective, but I swear, I don’t have bad intentions here.
And with Audrey…I don’t want to overstep there, either. That’s super new for me, to be honest.”
“You’ve been wonderful with her,” Lexi says. “I just…I don’t want her to get too attached if you’re not going to be around next month.”
This protectiveness—it’s natural, Ramona knows, for a parent-child relationship. And that’s why it yanks at something deep inside her chest, a yearning for that thing she never had.
“I wouldn’t want that either,” Ramona says in a small voice.
She’s uneasy all throughout gift opening, even as Nick cozies up on the couch next to her. They’re the sweetest family, and yet she’s suddenly unable to relax. Unable to let herself feel like she really belongs.
Maybe after last night, Nick sits a little closer, always makes sure he has his hand on her leg or his arm around her shoulder. Like he wants her to know how much it meant to him.
Ramona doesn’t regret telling him, but what she can’t understand is why she excavated herself like that after they agreed this relationship wasn’t serious.
Does that instantly make it serious? And perhaps even scarier, what if that’s something she wants?
Because even Lexi had to ask—in what universe do the two of them make sense?
Maybe she was testing herself to see whether she could truly get that honest with a partner, show him all the pieces she fears aren’t shiny enough for someone to love. And he responded better than she could have imagined.
She’s not quite sure what to do with that.
Audrey loses her mind over Ramona’s gift, a rare signed vinyl of her first album, and Ramona’s thrilled something from her past can still spark that kind of joy.
She knew her gift for Nick unfortunately needed to be family friendly, which eliminated her first few ideas.
So she found a retro Clippers jersey online, because she assumed (correctly) that Nick could never have too much Clippers merch.
Then she opens Nick’s gift, a book of Southern California’s best hikes, alongside a pair of custom-made socks with her cat’s face patterned all over them. Specifically: the very first photo Ramona sent him, the one with Janet lounging on her bed and looking completely unburdened.
“So you can wear Janet on your hikes,” he says.
She absolutely loves them.
When her phone buzzes with a message from Betty, she expects it to be a response to the merry christmas! she sent earlier this morning.
Betty: not sure if this is the time to tell you I have a google news alert for your name
(I’m sorry, you know I’m not a creep, it’s just to make sure I spot any bad shit before you do, just looking out for you, babe)
Ramona’s throat goes dry, her fingers numb. There’s a link to a social media post, one of those accounts where followers can submit anonymous photos.
Except this time, it’s not just a photo.
It’s a video of Ramona and Nick at the antique shop, browsing records and saltshakers.
And it’s very, very clear that they’re a couple.
—
Ramona makes it through the rest of the morning without having a breakdown.
In the video, Nick comes up behind her as she flips through records, resting his chin on her shoulder. Dropping a kiss to her neck. A sweet, intimate moment, and yet the way it’s captured makes it feel cheap.
And on Christmas? Do these lowlifes really have nothing better to do with their time?
She should have been more careful. Should have known they weren’t safe, even in a place that remote.
Once the family disperses, the kids playing and the adults cleaning up wrapping paper, she retreats into the kitchen, trying to stave off a panic attack.
The dark part of her brain wonders if maybe this is a blessing in disguise.
Nick will see the video, realize there’s no future for him that doesn’t involve a massive invasion of his privacy.
This whole time, she’s just been looking for an excuse like this, hasn’t she? A reason the two of them won’t work, to back up all her years of heartbreak?
Because here it is, served up in 1080p.
But if it’s supposedly such a good thing, why does the idea of never seeing him again make her want to walk barefoot out into the snow?
When Nick appears next to her, he places a hand on her shoulder that makes her jolt. “Hey,” he says in his low, concerned voice. “Everything okay?”
It’s the voice he used when he rescued her from the mall bathroom. When he comforted her after her mother showed up.
She’s not sure she deserves it this time.
With a shaking hand, she holds out her phone to him. “Nick,” she says. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t realize—I shouldn’t have—”
Terrified, she watches his face while he processes the video.
“Okay,” he says, like he doesn’t know quite what to do with it.
The professor who suddenly doesn’t have all the answers.
“Okay. It’s going to be okay. Let’s go for a walk?
” She wishes at least one of those okays made her feel halfway there.
Then he seems to remember something, brows creasing with concern. “Only if your feet can handle it.”
And really. He’s too kind, thinking about her feet during a time like this.
“Yeah. Fine,” she manages, because even if she has to put those boots on again, she doesn’t want to have this conversation with his family in the next room.
They’re quiet as they head outside, waving hello to the neighbors walking their fluffy white dogs.
It’s almost too peaceful out here, Ramona decides.
Too relaxing, and Nick looks too good in his knitted beanie and olive green puffer jacket.
She wants to be on edge. Stressed. Uncomfortable. That’s what she deserves, isn’t it?
“I’m so sorry,” she says again, once they fall into step on an empty path.
“Did you take the video?” When she gives him a questioning look, he continues: “Then you have nothing to be sorry for.”
She waits for him to start panicking. For him to berate her for being so careless.
“Is your phone blowing up?” she asks. Surely, once he sees the impact of this post, he’ll realize the gravity of the situation. “Maybe the holiday slowed things down, but it’s probably only a matter of time…”