As we continue moving forward, I catch movement ahead. All I can see is a pair of blue jean clad legs moving around, and I assume that it’s his roommate who’s taken to cooking us breakfast—a meal I have decided not to stick around for.
Something is up with Ransom, and I know I told myself that I wouldn’t run at the first bump in the road, but he’s acting strange. Well, stranger than usual. I don’t know if he suffers from a split personality disorder, if he’s bipolar, or if he really did take a nasty fall in the shower this morning, but I’m not comfortable with the current situation. I need to go home, collect my thoughts, and ruminate over them a while.
“I found this wandering around in the hall,” Ransom growls, jerking me in front of him as we enter the circle of cabinets that define the kitchen. “Care to explain to me what she’s doing here?”
I frown, my mouth parting on a protest that sticks in my throat the moment the roommate turns from the stove.
“Holy…shit. There are two of you.”
I’ve just stepped into the Twilight Zone. An exact replica of Ransom stands before me, only this one is dressed exactly the way the Ransom who left the bedroom this morning looked. A quick appraisal tells me that those are indeed the same low-slung jeans I saw him leave the room in.
Looking up at Ransom Number Two, I see all the same details from the curve of his lips to the slope of his jaw, to the high, round cheekbones. All of it is the same.
“Damn,” Ransom Number One says. “I’m sorry. I meant to tell you earlier.”
“Meant to tell me what exactly?” My body feels like it’s been stuck in one of those paint mixing machines at Home Depot. I’m trembling and I can’t seem to stop. Stepping to the side, Ransom Number Two’s hand falls away, and I wrap my arms around myself.
Ransom Number One wears this goofy smile, like he thinks all of this is one giant joke. Well, I don’t find any of this funny.
He walks over and puts his arm around my shoulder, tucking me against his chest and kissing the top of my head. The gesture would be soothing if I wasn’t so damn confused. And then he says, “Joe, this is my brother, Rebel. We’re identical twins.”
TWENTY-THREE
The puzzle pieces finally click into place. The scene they create makes total sense now. Ransom has a brother. An identical brother. As we stand in the kitchen looking at one another, it dawns on me just how embarrassing this situation is.
“God,” I say, hiding my face behind my hands. “I totally walked in on you in the bathroom.”
Rebel maintains that stern frown, and I think he must be a real ass if he can’t forgive an honest mistake. If he didn’t want anyone to walk in on him, then he should have closed the damn door.
“Don’t worry about it, babe,” Ransom said cheerily. “Rebel’s not exactly the shy type.”
Rebel’s hateful stare hasn’t left me for a second, and when Ransom leaves my side to tend to the bacon, I scoot a little closer to him and farther away from his brother. Supposedly, everyone has an evil twin out there somewhere. Rebel must be Ransom’s, I decide. Even his name seems to suggest it.
“Don’t worry,” Rebel says, his voice a deep, dark rasp. “It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before. Right…Joe?”
The way he says my name, like he’s testing out the feel of it on his tongue, is disturbing. Oddly, I feel my body responding to the low timber of it as if his voice is calling to me on a deeper, more intimate level. It must be the resemblance. Or, rather, the effect of looking at the exact same image of the man who drives me crazy.
Ransom shoots his brother a condemning look over his shoulder and turns off the stove. “Stop trying to make my girlfriend feel uncomfortable, Rebel. I’m sure it’s a pretty big shock to find out I have a doppelganger before she’s had her morning cup of coffee.”
“Imagine what a shock it must be for me, then, to see the woman I’ve been screwing these last few weeks dressed in my brother’s shirt this morning.”
Everything just stops. Time, breath, heartbeats. My head snaps up at the same time as Ransom’s. He looks at me and then at his brother as if he’s insane. Which he is because there is no way in hell I’ve slept with this man.
No way.
Is there?
I study both men again. They’re exactly the same, every single detail. But, as they begin to argue, I start to realize that there are some differences. For instance, Ransom’s voice is smoother, even when he’s angry. Whereas Rebel’s is a husky growl, no matter his mood.
That’s the deciding factor. I’d thought the puzzle had finally clicked together? I was wrong. So very wrong.