Crazy Good

by Rachel Robinson

  “I always want to hang out with you, but I have no idea. Only that I needed to thwart you for a little while so he could perform another step of his master plan.” She walks me to the door and down the hall. I ask her if she knows what the last step of his grand plan is, but she just smiles. I’d shake her if I didn’t feel so sorry for.

  I remind her of the time her college ex-boyfriend wanted to take her to a farm for a date. It was her worst date ever. That was a surprise. She isn’t budging, though—insisting I need to go along for the ride. Phillipe is waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs. He’s holding out the pair of Morg’s shoes.

  “Clean up your mess, you hag. My boyfriend will be here in ten minutes. So, you may want to put on some pants,” he says, eyes roving her nearly naked body. “And maybe a bra while your at it.” Morganna laughs, snatching her shoes.

  “I’ll just put these on and call myself proper,” she jokes, dangling the designer heels off her fingertips. Phillipe shakes his head. That exchange just took place. What. The. Hell. I look wide-eyed to my friend. She throws her arms out to the side. “What? He’s off the clock at five. The rest of the time he’s just my friend. I hate being here alone.”

  I would, too. It’s big. But the Morganna transformation just took on a new, unexpected facet. She’s changing more than I can comprehend. I throw on my own shoes and walk to the door.

  “Don’t be scared, Windsor,” Morganna says—standing in the middle of the marble foyer, in her underwear. The shoes she’s clutching are the only remnants of the old Morganna—her old life. “Let him love you. It’s worth it every time. No matter what happens. They never make the same mistake twice.” Her tone is pleading. Like her life hangs in the balance. My heart pounds out at a frenetic pace for Morganna…and her loss.

  I tell her I won’t be scared and that I’ll do everything she says. Not because I’ll actually do it, but because the sight of her right now, holding those shoes, is enough to spike the air with loss…and I don’t want any part of it. I’d say anything to get away.

  When I slide behind my steering wheel, I just sit there a couple of minutes calculating everything that could go wrong…or right if I do this. I slip my hand into the side of my briefcase and pull out the envelope. Clicking on the overhead light, I flip the smooth paper over a few times and watch my name written in tiny block letters appear and disappear. I tear it open because I just want to get it over with. I can do this. I want to read this. The only thing that’s kept me from it before is fear. I unfold the top flap and then the bottom. My throat constricts when my gaze lands on certain words. I read it.

  Windsor,

  From the very second I looked at you, I knew you were different. Not just because you were the hottest fucking woman on the planet, but because of what you made me feel without even trying. I never thought to ask for more out of life other than what I was already given. Asking for the perfect woman was out of the question. I mean how much luck can one man have? But there you were, like a freight train with a heart of gold and a body made for speed. I wanted you. There was a difference between you and every other woman I’ve been attracted to. I wanted you to want me back.

  Initially I thought you’d be this unobtainable goal, but then I realized you weren’t unobtainable…not really. My brain just labeled you that way because it saw the fucking DANGER signs posted around you. “Slippery slope. Will fall into fucking oblivion.” Or something like that. I never listen to fucking warnings. Maybe I should have and perhaps you wouldn’t be reading a grave letter right now. I don’t regret going after you, Windsor. You’re the best detour my life has ever taken. You are merely the best thing. That’s an all-encompassing statement.

  I can’t write you this letter like I’m already gone, because I’m not. I’m still thinking of you and picturing you in my mind and living my life one day at a time to get back to you. To hold you. To kiss you. To love you. So while I may be dead as a doornail when you read this, I sure as shit wasn’t when I wrote it. I can still feel your lips on mine. I know what my name coming out of your mouth does to me. I’m aware that I’ve left the likes of the Hope Diamond out for the taking. Maybe it’s naïve to think because I love you so much no one else will touch you. Maybe not. You give me hope in a fucked up world.

  I want to give you everything in life. Everything and more because that’s what you deserve, Win. Not just material possessions either. I know that shit doesn’t mean anything to you. I want to give you laughter that never ends, understanding, acceptance, gratitude for taking a chance on the wild card, love…oh, boy do I want to give you that. I’m not sure that I know how to love you properly. All I know is that you have all of my love and somehow it grows each and every day. It fills me up until only you consume me. Things have consumed me before….my career and the rush of a fast-paced lifestyle, the glory of being a SEAL, but Windsor consumption can’t be compared to anything else.

  It’s not going to be me to give you those things, because I’m gone. My chest aches thinking about it. Heartache beyond death is possible. It’s right here—In these words. Fall in love and don’t be afraid of anything. Life is too short to calculate everything. Don’t settle for anything less than perfect love. The person might lack certain things, or be some crazy asshole, but if the love is perfect that’s what matters. Everything else is just white noise in the background, lulling along the emotions. Sometimes you just have to leap without looking first. Take a chance, Win. Always. Always. Always take the fucking chance.

  I will love you forever and then some. It’s your hand over my heart, not mine. I won’t break rules and say goodbye. I’ll say live like goodbyes don’t even exist.

  T.H.

  Chapter Thirty

  Maverick

  I’m sorry. Those two words are never enough. I learned that the hard way growing up in the Hart residence. You show your remorse through doing better and proving your apology is sincere by actions. That’s what I’m doing now. I could apologize a million times for the fucking awful lies I told Windsor. But they’d be just words from a person who doesn’t deserve trust. I barely trust myself right now. I haven’t had a sip of alcohol since the night Windsor came to me. She could have stayed with Nash that night, but she came. It was the only show of confidence I needed. It’s strange how some small act creates so much forward momentum.

  “She’s been wanting that new couch for like a year. Windsor is going to flip out,” Gretchen says excitedly. I asked what Windsor wanted if price wasn’t an object, and she told me a couch. It’s not the most romantic gift in the world by any stretch, but if it will make her happy that’s all that matters. It’s similar to the leather couch in my own home. “All the flowers were a little unnecessary, but I get the over-the-top apology you’re going for. I appreciate the lack of goldenrod in these bouquets. Your love sent my allergies into a fucking tail spin the last time you went on a flower gifting rampage.”

  “Roses tend to be less of a trigger if you have allergies,” I explain, looking around at every single table covered with glittering flowers. “I just want it to look like the last time…except better.” I want to pick up at a place when everything was perfect. Before Stone blew himself up and before I pushed her away. This is the only way I know how. Goose prances, yes, the fucking dog prances over and hops up to his designated blanket on the new couch. I smile. He’s easy to train. Windsor’s just a softie.

  Gretchen clears her throat. “Your kitchen timers are going off, oh skilled-at-everything-Navy-SEAL.” I made dinner for all of us, but Gretchen explained that if she had to play third fiddle on one more date in Windsor’s life, her head would explode. Exploding heads aren’t conducive for what I need to happen tonight. She’s going to leave us alone. I’m nervous Windsor won’t agree to be alone with me and she’ll be here any second. Morganna sent me a text a few minutes ago. A sheen of sweat breaks across my forehead.

  I meet Gretchen’s calculating gaze and say, “I’m not skilled at everything. I wouldn’t have to
grovel like a pig if I did things perfectly the first time. I’m sorry, Gretchen. You’re the person who has to deal with the aftermath of…everything. Thank you for helping me pull this off.”

  Tightening her ponytail, she slings her hands on her hips. “Nash doesn’t deserve her. You fucked up less. What he did to her, in my eyes, is unforgivable. But Windsor being Windsor feels like everyone needs the benefit of the doubt. She’s big into second chances, if you didn’t notice. She was destroyed after you pushed her away, but you know she never let on? I’d hear her cry all night long, and poor little Goose had a wet, tear soaked head constantly, but she didn’t want to affect anyone else with her pain. That’s how she dealt this time. So, you know I didn’t deal with the aftermath directly. She’s thoughtful to a fault. Thank you for making this right. She deserves this and so much more. Just don’t fuck up again,” she says, eyes narrowed.

  I’m already shaking my head. “If I can make this work. If I can get her back, I’ll never let her go again,” I say. Punishing myself by denying Windsor wasn’t going to work for very long. In my short sober stints in between drunken blackouts, I surmised that much. Now I’ve wasted four months. I want the rest of her months to be mine.

  Keys jingle as the front door closes. Windsor’s heels click down the hall, and she peeks into the living room, her eyes darting to me immediately. She can’t hide her smile. It’s in her eyes and on her beautiful mouth. She looks a little sad, like maybe she’s been crying, but her smile distracts me from everything else. The ache in my chest encompasses my whole body, relief washing over me. I felt close to her while visiting Kathy in Georgia because I was in her space, with her mother, but seeing her in the flesh right now is better than my wildest fantasies. I missed her more than I can quantify. Gretchen slips quietly past Windsor and out the front door. We’re alone.

  Flowers are everywhere, but her gaze is all mine, she doesn’t look away. I swallow down the fear. “I’m a stupid man, Windsor Forbes. I’ve said things I can’t take back, I’ve done things that are even worse. I let alcohol step into my shoes and run my life for me. I let it take away the only good thing in my life. I let it take away the one thing that makes me feel alive. I’m so, so sorry.” I pause because I see her blue eyes glassing over. She merely nods. I’m just getting started though.

  I close the distance between us and grab her small hands in mine. She doesn’t pull away. If anything she leans toward me, wanting me closer.

  Time to play the honesty game. “I'm not honest. I'm trustworthy though. It sounds like fuck-all bullshit, but that's it. That's me. It's all I can offer, Win. The dark places stay dark places. You'll never have all of me. I don't expect you to be happy about that fact. I just want you to love what's in front of you. Because what you see, this person I am when I'm with you? It's the best version of me and it's all because you didn't run from the other me. I love you. I love all of you. Now, I'm asking you to love me back, but only the part that deserves your love. This guy. Right here and right now. I’m offering you what’s left of me. It’s not much, but it’s all I have to give. Look at me. Look at my life. I'm fucking crazy, and maybe I’m a little bit deranged and over-the-top. But you? You're good. You make me good.” I pull her to my chest, because the inches between our bodies feel like oceans. Her arms wrap around me and her face finds that place on my chest that only she can fit into—like a puzzle piece.

  “I love all of you, Maverick,” she sighs against me. The feeling buzzing around inside me right now is why I drank myself into oblivion. It was absent. “You’re not deranged either. Maybe just a little compulsive and set in your ways, but not deranged. I’ll take what’s left of you. It’s more than I could have hoped for. I have to admit though, I’m afraid.” She shivers.

  I pull back to read her eyes. “Of what?” I’ll crush any fear she has.

  “Of loss,” she says. With one word she’s explained everything that’s wrong with my life. It’s undeniable. It’s the one thing I can’t promise her. It’s part of me. My loss. Her loss. The whole damned world’s loss. I can’t protect her from that. “I see what loss has done to you and Morganna, and I’m not that strong.”

  I tip her chin up and will her to see everything inside my mind. How I think she’s the strongest person in this world…in this universe. Silent strength. Passionate strength. The strength to forgive. The strength to move on in the midst of her darkest hours. She’s stronger than me. Fearing loss is the worst way to live. It’s worse than actually dealing with it.

  “You just have to live, Windsor. Worrying accomplishes nothing. Tomorrow isn’t promised. All we have is today. Right now. This moment is what’s left. Loss only exists because you had something worth losing in the first place. Do you know how stupid I feel for wasting four months of tomorrows?” Her blue eyes look fierce as indecision lights her face. A moment later Windsor leans up and presses her lips against mine, twining her arms around my shoulders, her body against mine. I’ve had a lot of great moments in my life. This one tops the list. I deepen the kiss, running my hands down her sides to rest on her small hips. If lips could heal, Windsor’s would be my type of treatment. I forget about everything. It’s just her and I and our blistering, fucking amazing, crazy love lighting the entire world on fire. That’s what it feels like, anyway.

  I bring a hand up to grab her chin. She automatically opens further, letting my tongue dip inside to meet hers. “Miss you,” she says against my teeth. Her body is so warm against mine, her tits pressing on my stomach. She has morphine-laced lips. Her kiss numbs all the bad. Delirious happiness rages inside me. I want her. How did I stay away from her for so long? I was a fucking drunken idiot. I want to punish myself for punishing myself.

  “I missed you too,” I say, not breaking our mouths apart. It’s more than mere miss, though. I want to stay attached to her forever. I don’t want this to end. I thought it did end. I thought it was fucked forever. I should have known better.

  Love doesn’t die. No matter how many bullets you put in it. It breathes on its own without oxygen, without need for anything else. It exists, swirling in its own form of gravity, ready whenever you are, to be consumed by it.

  I hold her gorgeous face in my hands and with a great effort I tear my wet lips from hers. I only stop because if I let this kiss go on I know I’ll have her naked on the floor in minutes, and that’s not what this is about. Well, it kind of is, because I want her…and I haven’t had sex since her, but that’s not part of my great plan. I wasn’t even expecting her to surrender her lips to me tonight.

  “I made dinner,” I explain. Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated, and the soft pink of her cheeks are the telltale sign—she’s ready right now. That fact flips a switch. I want her in all fucking ways. Which means I’ll need enough restraint for both of us. I focus on controlling my uneven breathing. Looking around the room, Windsor sees the flowers for the first time, and eventually the couch. Her jaw drops.

  “This is what you were doing? You bought me a couch?” she asks, her voice loud. I can’t determine whether it’s a happy or a what-the-fuck question.

  “If you don’t like it we can switch it for something you do like,” I say, thinking the couch was a horrible idea. She shakes her head, her hair swinging across her back.

  “No, I love it. Thank you. Gretchen must have told you I’ve wanted this one for a while. It’s too much,” she says, sitting down on it next to Goose. She picks him up and cuddles him against her chest, rubbing the leather with her free hand. She makes a few exclamations about how much she likes the sofa and then follows me into the kitchen. The couch isn’t nearly enough. She doesn’t know that yet, though.

  “You didn’t have to do all of this Maverick. You had me at I’m a stupid man, Windsor Forbes. It’s a version of I’m sorry I haven’t heard yet. You get beaucoup points for creativity.”

  I exhale. Easy. Being with Windsor is easy. I think any other woman wouldn’t forgive this easily. But then again, if they aren’t Windsor, I don’t
need or want their forgiveness in the first place.

  We eat dinner in a sexually charged atmosphere, eyes fucking when our bodies can’t. I can taste it in the air. The need to be close to her in any capacity is stronger than anything else. The conversation is light and flows effortlessly. When you have months and months to catch up on, I guess that happens.

  She’s also relentlessly curious about my time spent with her mother. There really isn’t much to say about that. I wanted to get to know the woman who raised Windsor. They are polar opposites, something I’m sure Windsor is grateful for. I know I am. Behind every single insult Kathy slings her way, behind it all, is undying love. It’s just her weird, fucked up way of showing it. Knowing that fact comforts me. It gives me hope for my own parents. I called them and we talked. It was minimal and just the basics, but the lines of communication are open. If I was going to take Stone’s advice about Windsor, I want to take all of his advice. Sober Maverick is going to attempt to fix everything.

  Her eyes are downcast as she whispers. “I’m glad you feel better, but you can’t be magically cured, Mav. I saw what drinking made you do. Even if I didn’t see it, Morganna gave me first hand accounts of the situations she dealt with. You know, when you didn’t want me in your life. My love for you isn’t some magic pill. I saw exactly how intoxicating being intoxicated was for Kathy. Is it the same for you? Should you get more help?”

  Heavy words—heavy, but so true. I don’t feel like drinking right now. When I have to go home to my empty house tonight, I’m not so sure what I’ll feel like. I know I can control myself. The problem is wanting to. What happens when I can’t fall asleep because I can’t stop the memories? “It’s a work in progress, Win. You give me a reason to stay sober. When Stone died, a lot of fucked up shit crossed my mind. Drinking got it off my mind. I told you I have addiction problems. I need you to trust me. I can do this. We can do this. Tell me I can’t and watch what happens,” I say, smiling big and wide. Windsor laughs, exposing her perfect white teeth.