More than a Maid (33 page)

"That's ridiculous," Ramon said, snorting.

"I know." Armando nodded. "But I was still disappointed." He wiped a tear from his eye. "I guess I hoped Henry was lying about everything. It would've been pretty cool to have my father alive instead of…" he trailed off, his voice a little shaky when he spoke again. "You know what else? It sounds like Henry treated Mama a whole lot better than Papa ever did."

"Yes," Victor said. "Henry was good to
all
of us." He peered deep into Ramon's eyes. "He gave us better lives."

Armando added, "And paid his own money to send me
and
Victor to college. I'll always be grateful for that." He flashed Ramon a knowing smirk. "Some of us didn't have the privilege of turning down three different scholarships, you know?"

Ramon folded his arms across his chest and casually replied, "Yeah, yeah."

Victor said, "We're not saying Henry's perfect. This entire situation is beyond fucked up and none of us'll ever be the same. But we could've had it much worse. Best thing we can do is just move forward from this and not let it break us."

Groaning, Ramon placed his hands on his desk, his eyes weary. Their words were starting to sink in, but he was desperate to end this emotional discussion. "I take after Henry in
so
many ways. Shoulda figured it out a long time ago."

Armando shook his head. "No. You don't look like him, to me."

"Where do you think I got this height?" Ramon lifted his hands and looked down at his body. "But you guys are short."

Victor and Armando both snorted in protest at the same time. Then Victor said, "You're not
that
much taller than us."

"Yes I am." Ramon nodded. "I'm six-foot-three, like Henry. You guys are both, like, five-ten on a good day."

Armando rolled his eyes and said, "No, no…"

Victor said, "No, we're both exactly six feet tall. We can prove it."

Ramon chuckled as he wiped lingering tears of sadness from his eyes, thankful to find a way to distract himself from the pain and amuse himself. "Nah. Everyone knows Mexicans are short. But I'm only half Mexican and half whatever Henry is. So I'm tall."

Armando's jaw dropped as he let out a tiny chuckle. "You racist asshole!"

Ramon's hand hit the desk and he laughed so hard, they could barely understand him saying, "Remember how
pissed you were when I outgrew you?"

Victor shook his head. "You may be taller but we can
still
kick your ass. Don't you forget it."

Laughing even harder, Ramon choked out, "Yeah right. You gonna send your limo drivers after me?"

Sighing, Victor looked at Armando, and they both grinned. Instinctively, they both knew it wasn't the right time to take offense. It was easier for him to laugh about it than cry. Their brother obviously needed this.

Two months passed. Marcy bounced between temporary office assignments, working as a receptionist. Her most recent assignment was to fill in for an employee who was out on sick leave. It had ended the prior week, and Marcy didn't have anything else lined up yet.

Ramon, of course, regularly tried to talk her into moving back to Turnbrook, but she wasn't ready.

It was Tuesday. Ramon had just returned that morning from a long weekend with Marcy, and he already missed her. He called her from his office the second he came home.

"
Hello?
" she answered.

"Hey. I miss you."

Marcy sighed, happily. "
I miss you too
." Then she inhaled a sharp breath. "
And I have news!
"

"What?"

"
I got a job!
"

Ramon's heart sank. If she had permanent employment, it would decrease the chances of her moving to Turnbrook. He muttered a deliberately unenthused, "Great. Where?"

"
Luciana's. It's a boutique
."

"A boutique? You mean, a retail shop?"

"
Uh-huh
."

Ramon paused, hoping she'd understand why he was about to be upset with her. "Retail. That means you'll have to work weekends. We'll never see each other."

"
That's not true. They said I could take a weekend off here or there
."

"I doubt it. Stores like that usually do most of their business on the weekend."

She groaned. "
You don't know that. And it's the only permanent job I've found in… forever. Could you at least pretend like you're happy for me?
"

"No. Do you wanna stop seeing me? Is that the real issue here?"

"
No! You know better than that. I just want a permanent job
."

"You have a permanent job
here
anytime you want it."

Marcy was silent.

"What's wrong?" Ramon asked. chuckling nervously. "You're that scared to be with me? You'd rather take some retail job and stay there than move back down here?"

Softly, Marcy said, "
I didn't really think it through, I guess. I was just excited to get a job offer
.
It's been a while
."

Ramon rolled his eyes, thinking about the customer who slapped Marcy for giving her the wrong hair color. "You can't do a job like that, baby doll. You'll have to sell clothes to old rich ladies who'll slap you because you tried to get 'em to buy the wrong dress."

She laughed.

He said, "You know I'm right. If you couldn't handle being a hairdresser, you probably can't handle working in a boutique, either."

"
Don't tell me what I can't handle
."

Smirking, Ramon said, "Let's not argue. It ain't nearly as much fun when you're so far away."

She paused, then said, "
You are
so
frustrating sometimes
."

Ramon took a deep breath. "Come on. What the hell are you waiting for? I need you. Cara needs you. It's been two months. And as much as I enjoy seeing you every weekend, I'd rather see you every day."

"
Apologize for saying I can't handle working in a boutique
."

Ramon snorted. "No, it's the truth. You're too opinionated for that kinda work. 'The customer's always right.' Remember? You hate that. Hell, we both hate that."

She waited a while, then mumbled, "
Yeah… I don't know…
"

"Seriously, what's the problem. What'll I have to do to get you to move back here?"

"
Are you in love with me yet?
"

"Uh…" Ramon stammered, startled by the question. He tapped his fingers against his desk. "Uh… you know, people say they love each other all the time and don't mean it. Love's an action, not a feeling. You don't need to say it, you just do it. It's just an empty word to most people, and—"

"
I love you, Ramon
."

"Oh." He sank down in his chair. Those words sure as hell didn't sound empty coming from Marcy. He closed his eyes, letting them echo through his mind, his thoughts spinning.

"
I can't move if you don't love me back
."

"So, all I have to do is say it? And you'll move? It's that easy?"

She breathed into the phone for a moment. "
Is that the only reason you'd say it?
"

"Shit. I didn't mean it that way. I meant—."

"
Yeah. You
never
mean it that way. How many times have I heard that?
" Marcy let out a growl. "
Well, I said it. It's out there
."

"Marcy—"

And the phone went silent. She ended the call.

He couldn't take it anymore. He needed her to move, so he had to prove his love to her. And that meant a whole lot more than a silly little, "I love you."

* * *

The next day came, and Marcy hadn't heard from Ramon since their conversation.

She kept her phone by her side constantly, hoping he'd call. Losing sleep because the phone wasn't ringing.

Maybe it was over.

Just like that… it was over. Ramon didn't love her.

Marcy stayed in her apartment, crying. Unable to get out of bed.

The pain of losing him was a million times worse than she'd imagined. It was a soul-sucking, stomach-twisting nightmare.

She looked at the clock: 11:58.

Two more minutes till she'd pour herself a big glass of wine. As horrible as she felt, she wasn't pathetic enough to drink before noon. Had to draw the line somewhere.

Today, she was glad she didn't have a job. She could stay in that bed all day, drinking wine, watching TV. No one would see her cry.

Hopefully Patty wouldn't come to the door. Hopefully she didn't know yet. Had Ramon told anyone they were through? Shit. Did Cara already know?

Knock, knock, knock
.

Marcy jolted to a sitting position. Someone was at the door.

Damn it! It had to be Patty. Probably asking about Ramon. Probably knew she'd confessed her love and he just stopped calling…

Knock, knock, knock
.

She stayed in bed, waiting for the person to leave. No one could see her like this. Messy, red-faced from crying. Wearing nothing but the comfortable, old Backstreet Boys T-shirt she'd owned since junior high.

Besides… it was almost wine o'clock: the highlight of her miserable day.

Marcy pulled the sheet to her eyes, sobbing. Wine at noon was the highlight of her day?

And then her phone rang its familiar, personalized ring.

The Ramon ring.

She sniffled and let go of the sheet, her arm flinging to the nightstand to retrieve the phone. She let it ring three times before answering.

"Hello?" she said, hoping her voice didn't sound too groggy.

"
You in there? I'm out here knockin'
."

"What? That's you?" Marcy swung her feet to the floor. He'd only left a day earlier, and he was already back here to see her again? Did he want to break up with her in person?

"
Yeah. Answer the door
."

"Oh no." Marcy stood, checking out her reflection in the mirror over her dresser. It was worse than she'd imagined. Hair disheveled, eyes puffy and red, T-shirt nearly threadbare. If she saw herself on the street she'd wonder if she was homeless. "No. It's not a good time."

"
Oh, come on. I came all the way here. I'm sure Patty'll use her key to let me in
." He chuckled.

Marcy groaned. "Give me two minutes. Please."

"
All right. Two minutes. Then I'm gettin' Patty
." He hung up.

Marcy rushed around her apartment. The dresser, the closet, the bathroom. If he was really there to break up in person, she wanted to get it over with.

But maybe that wasn't why he was there.

Regardless, she couldn't let him see her like this. Couldn't let him know the depths of despair she'd experienced at the thought of losing him.

Approximately two minutes later, Marcy was ready. It wasn't the best she'd ever looked, but at least she wore decent clothes and her hair was brushed.

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Ramon stood there in his tight T-shirt and blue jeans, extending a bouquet of red roses to her. With a sheepish grin, he said, "I'm sorry."

Marcy let out an enormous sigh of relief, feeling like she could cry again but for a whole new reason. She took the flowers and said, "Thank you." Then reached up to give him a kiss.

He grabbed her waist and kissed her back. When he pulled away he said, "I mean it. I'm sorry." His eyes narrowed at her. "Are you all right? You look sick."

"No, I'm not sick."
I've only been crying my guts out for hours
, she thought. "I need to finish getting ready. Come in, have a seat. Just give me a few minutes, please."

He nodded and closed the door behind him as she rushed off to the bathroom to put on her makeup.

When she returned, Ramon rose from his chair in the living room.

The look on his face was calm, but in a strange way. Like he was uncomfortable or… something. Marcy had no idea. She asked, "Are
you
all right?"

Eyes wide, Ramon nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine. Get your purse. Let's go somewhere."

"Okay. You're acting funny."

He smiled. "Just get it. Come on. I wanna take you somewhere."

A few minutes later, they were in Ramon's rented car, destination unknown to Marcy.

"Uh… you gonna tell me where we're going?" she asked as he turned toward downtown.

"No."

Ramon stared straight ahead, barely looking at her. He checked his phone once in a while as if he was looking at directions.

Marcy reached for the car's GPS in the center of the dashboard. "Here. Use this. It works, doesn't it?"

"No!" Ramon said, sharply. "I'll get us there."

"Get us where?"

"Shh!" His eyes went between his phone and the road as he pulled up to a stop light.

Marcy slumped against the back of the seat. Was he trying to surprise her? It was the weirdest trip she'd ever taken with him. And with his odd behavior, she was still worried he was going to break up with her.

A few tense minutes later, Ramon pulled into a parking lot and stopped the car. He turned off the engine and sat there, staring straight ahead.

Eyebrows furrowed, Marcy said, "I'm worried."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Don't worry." Eyes opened, he stared at the wall of the brick building in front of them as he rubbed the back of his neck. In a quiet, sheepish voice, he said, "City hall's right over there, right?" He nodded to his side.

"Yeah…?"

He swallowed, hard, still looking at the brick wall. "I was thinkin', maybe we should just go in there today and get a marriage license."

Marcy's mouth fell open. For a moment, she wondered if her heart stopped beating, out of pure shock. She'd spent most of the last twenty-four hours sobbing uncontrollably, afraid they were breaking up. And now she sat in a rented car outside city hall, on the receiving end of the worst marriage proposal in history?

She turned in her seat to face him, waiting for him to look at her, but he averted her gaze. She watched his eyes repeat a pattern from the windshield to the steering wheel, to the rearview mirror, then back to the windshield.

After a long silence, Ramon shrugged and weakly said, "So?"

"So?" Marcy reached across the seat and grabbed his arm, digging in with her fingernails. "Is that supposed to be a marriage proposal?"

Ramon's face scrunched up as he let out a groan. "Damn it, woman! Why you gotta ruin everything?"

Marcy stammered a little then choked out, "Ruin what? Your big romantic gesture?" She huffed as she let go of his arm. "Trust me, there's nothing to ruin."

His eyes rolled and he hit the steering wheel with his palm then looked at her for the first time since they parked. "You know I ain't into all that flowery bullshit. Come on, let's just walk over there and apply for a license. We'll come back again in a few days after the waiting period and make it legal. No big deal."

"Have you lost your mind?" Her eyes widened, blinking at him like he was unreal. "Seriously? I don't get a marriage proposal? What about an engagement ring? Did you buy me one?"