Crazy Thing Called Love

by Molly O'Keefe

  If a rock had fallen from the sky he wouldn’t have been any more shocked. He could only gape at her while she talked about their neighborhood. His ears were buzzing, his heart pounding.

  What the hell was she doing?

  “You …” He cleared his throat and tried again. “You were the one who handled all the bullies,” he said. “You were like the playground enforcer. Anyone so much as looked at another kid’s lunch money, and you’d go over there and take out their knees.”

  “Well,” she laughed, tossing that hair over her shoulder, “it was easier to do that when I knew you’d come charging down like a madman if anyone tried to hurt me.”

  “I would have,” he said, and the words came out raw. Honest.

  The crowd gasped, some people clapped.

  “We’ll be right back with more from Billy Wilkins,” she said and the lights on the cameras flicked off.

  “Is this for show?” he whispered, unable to play her game. He wanted to rip off his mic, but he’d done that before. And he was supposed to be cleaning up his mess, not making it worse.

  “I called Dom,” she said, “before the show. I told him I wanted to talk to him about you. About us. I’m sorry I was scared. I’m so sorry I pushed you away.” Now she wasn’t sweating … she was crying. And her words were dangerous. Falling down around him like fire. “And if you don’t want to talk about us, about growing up or our history, I understand. I can go back to the script. But I just want you to know, I’m not … I’m not scared anymore. I’m not ashamed. I believe in you.” She glanced backstage. “With those kids, you’re … you’re amazing. I want the world to know. I want people to look at me and think of us. I would be really proud of that.”

  “Maddy,” he sighed, scared to believe it. Worried that in his desire to believe it he was being fooled.

  “It’s okay,” she said, wiping her eyes. “This is crazy. I totally understand. I have no idea what I was thinking. We’ll go back to the script. I understand. I do. It’s got to be hard to trust me. I just wanted you to know that I have faith. In you.”

  Gina came running out, and slapped powder on Maddy as fast as she could. “You’ve got to stop this nonsense. Those kids are freaking out and you’re gonna look like a raccoon in front of a million viewers.”

  Gina vanished and Peter was there with the hand count and the lights were on and Maddy was smiling, calming down the buzzing audience before talking about the New School.

  The studio darkened and on the screen behind them they showed the promotional video that Luc and Tara Jean had made. It was slick and emotional and Billy sat there, cold to all of it. His eyes on Maddy.

  Faith.

  The lights came back on and Maddy turned to him. “What gave you the idea for this school?” she asked.

  “You.”

  She blinked. Sat back, a tentative, hopeful smile flickering across her face.

  Faith, he thought, and decided to talk about something he never spoke of.

  “Remember the night I got my scar?” He touched it, the familiar thick ridge, the curl at his lip where the blade had bit deep.

  She nodded.

  “My dad did this to me,” he said to the audience, to every person he’d lied to about it. To every guy he’d hit on the ice because he was angry. Because he was remembering that night. “I was twelve years old and he held a hockey skate up to my face. He was a bully, my dad. A mean drunk. And he was just trying to be tough, but my mom got involved and there was a fight … an accident, and the blade sliced through my lip, across my face. My sisters were gone, and my dad ran away. I’m not sure where my mom went.”

  “To the neighbors.”

  “Of course. But you were there,” he said and turned to the audience. “Maddy was ten years old and she called the cops and sat beside me holding my hand. I’ve loved her ever since.”

  He turned his hand over, palm up.

  Past, present, and future, it was all right here. Right now. Without hesitating she put her hand in his.

  The crowd went crazy.

  His heart went crazy.

  “But Billy,” she said, smiling, tears in her eyes, her hand in his, “that doesn’t explain the origins of the New School.”

  Man, she was good, he thought, and squeezed her hand. The rest of the thirty-eight minutes flew by. They talked about the school, his career, and his possible future in the minor league.

  “I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” he said. Maddy’s hand in his, he looked backstage at the kids, his heart overrun with emotion. The kids were staring at him, wide-eyed. Probably freaking out.

  “I’m trying to make things better. For everyone.”

  “I’d say you’re off to a good start.” Maddy stood, her hand still in his. “I’d like to thank you all for coming,” she said. “For watching, for sharing this hour with us.” She glanced at Billy, who winked at her.

  Everyone started clapping, coming to their feet. Stomping and whistling.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice catching on tears. He tugged her against his side, his arm holding her close. “See you tomorrow,” she cried over the noise and the cameras went dark.

  “We’re clear,” Peter yelled and before Billy could do anything, Maddy turned, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

  Closemouthed and hard. A promise. A stamp. Mine, that kiss said. Mine.

  He chuckled and kissed her back. Claiming her—this magnificent, surprising woman, this queen of her kingdom—as his.

  There was a tug on his jacket and he turned to find Becky and Charlie. Becky glared at Maddy.

  “Is this a trick?” she asked. “Like that thing with us? Did you do this for ratings, or whatever?”

  Maddy shook her head. “No. No trick.”

  “Then why’d you do it?”

  “Because I love him and I want everyone in the world to know.”

  Billy stepped backward, making a bit of a show of being blown away by her words.

  “Do you love her?” Becky asked him.

  “I have my whole life. Every minute.”

  Becky rolled her eyes, clearly he’d gone a bit too far, but he didn’t care.

  “So,” Becky looked at them, “what do we do now?”

  “Chuck E. Cheese,” Charlie cried, lifting his hands to be picked up.

  Billy groaned and Charlie clapped his hands over Billy’s face. “You promised! You said if I peed in the potty every time, you’d take me to Chuck E. Cheese.”

  “I did.” He looked over at Maddy. “Want to come?”

  “Absolutely,” she said without hesitation. Probably because she didn’t know that Chuck E. Cheese was the seventh circle of hell. “Let me change.” She walked away a few steps and then turned. “Want to come?” she asked Becky, but the girl hung back. Burned a few too many times.

  “Go,” he whispered, and it took another moment of hesitation but then Becky quickly joined her.

  His eyes burned, happiness making a mess of him. There were some tough hurdles ahead of them. The foster parent interviews, the adoption process, his possible career in the minors, the change in Maddy’s show.

  But right now he had no doubt that they could handle it, together. The stuff that had ruined them before didn’t stand a chance against all the things they could do right.

  Love was the least of their strengths.

  This moment, watching Becky and Maddy walk down the hall, away from him, their heads bent together, Charlie’s perfect weight in his arms, this was the happiest he’d ever been. This moment couldn’t be improved upon.

  He was a man complete.

  Charlie wiggled in his arms.

  “I need to pee,” he said.

  Oh, how wrong he’d been. Now it was perfect.

  “Let’s go, buddy.” Billy headed for the bathroom, tears unchecked on his face.

  Two years later

  “Can you fit in there?” Billy asked as Charlie climbed inside the sparkling silver perfection that was the Stanley Cup. “Can
you get your head down?”

  Charlie tried, but the best he could do was stand inside of it.

  “Good enough,” Billy said and took a picture of his five-year-old, newly adopted son, who was grinning like a mad man, standing in the Stanley Cup.

  It was Billy’s day with the cup. Every player on the winning team got a day with it and Billy had chosen today—the finalization of the adoption process.

  The kids’ Gotcha Day.

  Perfect.

  “You know,” Maddy said, sweeping out into the backyard with a case of beer in her arms. She was still wearing her running clothes from her workout this morning. Sometimes he thought she did that on purpose—to mess with his head. He could barely look away from her ass as she tumbled the bottles into a tub filled with ice, which was next to a tub filled with pop. “People are going to be here in an hour.”

  Becky, fifteen going on twenty-five, more beautiful than there were words to describe, came out with bowls of chips and set them down on the other table. She was already dressed for the party, had been since dawn. A green skirt, a purple top with little spaghetti straps. She reached up a hand to pick at her lips, but then stopped herself.

  “You think we have enough food?” she asked, worrying, always worrying. She went to a counselor once a week for help with some compulsive behaviors. It seemed to be helping. But still his heart bled for her, just bled.

  “It’s five teenagers and a couple of adults,” Billy said. He grabbed Maddy’s hand and pulled her into his arms. She didn’t resist, despite the fact that guests would be arriving in an hour.

  During the week, she was the queen of morning television. Her show was more popular than AM Dallas had ever been.

  But in their home, with the kids and their friends, she was Maddy Baumgarten—a different kind of queen.

  “Marry me,” he whispered against her lips. “The adoption process is over, we can elope and you can file to adopt and then it’s done. We’re a family.”

  “We already are a family,” she said, kissing him back, holding his cheeks, brushing his hair away from his eyes. A thousand touches, a million little pats a day—after two years she still seemed to be making sure he was there. “And I’m not eloping again.”

  “Okay. Marry me in a church with a thousand people. We can televise it.”

  “Hey!” Luc Baker stepped into the backyard from the kitchen. “I need some help with the gifts.”

  “Gifts!” Charlie said as he tried to climb out of the Stanley Cup. He tripped and fell and Billy leaned over and swept him up.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” Maddy said and vanished as Luc walked into the yard.

  “Wow,” Luc said, coming over to look at the Cup where it sat unceremoniously on the ground. Charlie lifted the toy car he’d been playing with out of it. “Treating it with the respect it deserves, I see.”

  “Later we can drink beer out of it.”

  Luc smiled, but it was bittersweet, and his hands were reverent as they touched the silver, the names of the hockey greats etched in its side.

  “You did good,” Luc said.

  “It was the team,” Billy answered, uncomfortable.

  “No, man, I watched that game. Everyone watched that game. It was you.” Luc stared at him. “You lead the shit out of those kids.”

  Billy laughed. “That was beautiful, man.” Uncomfortable and proud and happy, he hurried to change the subject. “Beer?”

  “Sure.”

  Billy grabbed two icy cold bottles from the tub and handed one to Luc. “So, you getting any sleep?” he asked.

  “No. None at all.”

  Tara Jean stepped out onto the lawn, holding a little girl in a serious ruffly pink and white dress. “Chloe!” Becky cried and ran over to take the baby.

  “Thanks, Becky,” TJ said. “I need to go help Maddy.”

  “What does Maddy need help with?” Billy asked, already stepping forward. This was supposed to be a party, he didn’t want her working so hard she didn’t have any fun.

  “I got it!” TJ said and waved over her shoulder as she went back into the house. “You guys discuss hockey … or potty training.”

  “Is this stupid?” Maddy’s hands were shaking as she pulled up the zipper on her dress. In the mirror she didn’t look like a bride, despite the white eyelet lace. She looked like a thirty-six-year-old woman in a sundress.

  “This is stupid,” she answered her own question.

  But Ruth shoved her down into a chair and Gina was suddenly there with her magic toolbox. Tara Jean was in the kitchen handling the caterers.

  “Nothing about this is stupid,” Ruth said. “It’s romantic and awesome. He’s going to be blown away.”

  That was what she thought, but trying to plan a surprise wedding on their kids’ Gotcha Day felt a little like overkill. Too much happiness. Too much joy.

  Silly, kind of.

  “Honey,” Gina said. “You’ve got to stop crying or we’re never going to get this mascara on.”

  The bedroom door creaked open and Becky slipped in, Chloe in her arms, looking red-faced and crabby.

  “I think she might be hungry,” Becky said. “Have you seen Tara Jean?”

  “Here I am,” Tara Jean came in behind her. “Come here, baby.” She took Chloe and sat on the corner of the bed to nurse her eight-month-old. “The caterers are all set up, and the guests are starting to arrive.”

  “I’ll go help distract the groom,” Ruth said and vanished out the door.

  Becky blushed at the first sight of nipple and came over to stand beside Maddy.

  “You look beautiful,” she said.

  “So do you. You were right about the green.” Maddy touched the sequined edge of the girl’s skirt. It was simple and sturdy, that skirt, cotton, with just a little bit of flash and glamour. Not unlike Becky.

  “Oh, I forgot—the minister is here,” Tara Jean said, stroking Chloe’s head. “Luc is trying to keep the guy busy while Victor entertains Billy in the backyard.”

  “Do you think Billy guesses?”

  “He’s wondering why the whole team showed up for our party.”

  Maddy smiled.

  “If he goes into the kitchen, he’ll know something’s up. The caterers have totally taken over,” Becky said. “They’ve got lots of shrimp.” Her eyes glowed. She was a shrimp hound, this girl.

  “Good,” Maddy said, hugging Becky close. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered into her shiny hair.

  “I love you,” Becky whispered and Maddy closed her eyes against the sting of tears. The words were still rare, and more precious because of it. Not like Charlie, who declared his love every ten minutes. His love for Billy, for Becky, for Maddy, for toaster waffles, for his new skates. You name it, Charlie loved it.

  Becky was more reserved in her affections, but deeply, deeply loyal.

  She was so much like Billy.

  The door creaked open and Ruth stuck her head in. “I can’t keep the smoke and mirrors going much longer,” she said. “He’s starting to suspect something’s up.”

  “We’re coming.” Maddy got to her feet, the white lace falling down around her knees.

  Tara Jean, her matron of honor, had a little spit-up on the front of her pale blue dress. Which, really, when you thought about it, was kind of perfect. On this love-filled, imperfect wedding day, what was a little spit-up?

  Ruth, her bridesmaid, was wearing a red and yellow sari-type dress. Like she was making up for all her years without color.

  “I’ll go get the minister and Billy in place,” TJ said and slipped out the door, her baby cuddled up on her shoulder.

  “You ready?” Ruth asked.

  How did this happen? she wondered. How did I get here? A house full of friends. Two kids. A man who has loved me since we were children. Who am I to have this?

  “Come on,” Ruth said, tugging her into motion. “Don’t get cold feet now.”

  “It’s not cold feet,” she said at the door. “I just want
to savor it all.”

  Ruth smiled, this friend who’d come into her life when she’d needed one most. When she’d needed to vent or rejoice or cry or laugh or drink too much vodka in a seedy bar.

  Maddy smiled back at her, her teammate, and no words needed to be spoken.

  “Let’s go.” Maddy threw open the door and walked down the hallway. When the guests saw her, they headed outdoors, and soon the backyard was flooded with everyone they loved.

  Becky and Charlie were standing beside Billy, holding his hand while he talked to Coach Hornsby. Behind Billy stood a man in a suit. The minister.

  Ruth walked outside, leaving her alone in the doorway, looking at her life.

  The backyard fell silent and Hornsby tapped Billy on the shoulder and pointed over to her.

  She watched him, this man she loved so much, she watched him stumble through emotions. A lot of confusion at all of the people who were suddenly in his yard, and then he caught sight of her and his face had that what have I done to deserve you? look that marked him as hers.

  And then she saw the moment when he realized what was happening.

  He gasped, his eyes flooded.

  “Ouch, Billy,” Charlie said. “You’re squeezing my hand.”

  “Sorry, buddy.” His voice was thick. Rough, full of every emotion that echoed in her heart. He leaned down to kiss Charlie’s hand and then he kissed the top of Becky’s head.

  “Surprised?” Becky asked.

  “Always,” Billy said.

  Blake, who had an angelic voice to match his devilish slapshot, started to sing and Maddy, more happy than she knew was possible, went to join her family.

  For Adam, for everything

  BANTAM BOOKS BY MOLLY O’KEEFE

  Can’t Buy Me Love

  Can’t Hurry Love

  Crazy Thing Called Love