I had almost forgotten the original reason Luka tricked him into that pool bet. The whole catalyst for this insane arrangement—Scottie needing a date to dodge his mother’s matchmaking schemes.
Me:Yes. I agreed to go.
Scottie:Cool. So I booked us a hotel room.
My fingers freeze.
Me:A room? As in singular?
Scottie:Yeah. It’ll look weird if we get separate rooms. Newlyweds, remember? The place is booked up for the wedding, anyway. It was all they had left and based on the number of people staying with my parents, we’d most likely be pitching up a tent in the backyard.
He’s right. Logically, he’s right. Emotionally, my heart does a strange swoop.
Me:That makes sense.
Scottie:It’s a nice place, too. King bed, big tub, mountain view. It’s their honeymoon suite, which feels fitting.
Honeymoon suite.
The words sit there, buzzing in my skull.
Me:You don’t owe me a honeymoon suite. This isn’t a real marriage.
Though that last sentence feels more like a lie every time I tell it, because this doesn’t feel fake either.Scottie:I know. But we can still have a good time, yeah? Make it fun? My hockey schedule is about to get crazy, and once you get the callback from PNB, we’re going to be ships passing in the night at the penthouse.
The reminder of the fact that I still haven’t heard anything from the callback, which means my visa renewal is still up in the air, is a heavy reminder of what’s still at stake. The fact that I haven’t gotten any more text threats from my father also has me worried that he has a plan up his sleeve. All I can do is take my next step and hope it all works out.
Me:I still don’t know if PNB is going to call me back.
Scottie:They will. In the meantime, we’ll spend a couple of days with good food and good friends.
Me:And your family thinking I’m a Russian robot and wishing their son had married the girl next door.
Scottie:My mom’s going to adore you. My sisters will too once they’re done grilling you. They’re harmless, I promise. Mostly.
This is… not the reassurance he thinks it is.
Me:You’re not helping.
Scottie:Trust me, KitKat. It’ll be good. You’ll get to see where I grew up. Small-town Montana. Big sky, lots of stars. Might even be romantic if you squint.
My throat goes tight.
Me:Romantic?
Scottie:Not all of us have the luxury of being Russian robots. Some of us have feelings, and I know you do. We’re going to dig those out this trip. Open up your horizons.
Me:You can’t help yourself, can you?
Scottie:Can’t help myself, what?
Me:Being… you.
There’s a pause on his side. No bubbles going back and forth. I didn’t mean that to be offensive, and I hope he didn’t take it thatway. I’ve never met anyone like Scottie, and I like that even when I make it seem like I’m pulling away, he doesn’t give in. Instead, he’s right there reeling me back in to him.
Scottie:Nope. Romance is my natural state. Maybe I’ll even take you fly-fishing and teach you how to gut a fish. Your romantic weekend with your stranger husband awaits.
I drop the phone onto the bed and press the heels of my hands into my eyes.
