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 themerry 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 therest 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 thoseokays 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?
