Happy Crazy Love Boxed Set

by Melanie Harlow

  This book and the character of Sebastian were inspired by several things: the heartbreakingly raw and moving performance of “OCD” by poet/writer Neil Hilborn (please look him up, watch the live performance, like him on Facebook…I’m in awe of him), the song “Creep” by Radiohead (listen to the original and the cover by Hailey Reinhart of Scott Bradlee’s Postmodern Jukebox), and my own life experience loving someone who struggles with anxiety. But how does a writer of romantic comedy take on something like Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, especially in the male love interest, do justice to its sufferers, and yet still write a lighthearted romance? I tried very hard to be true to the harsh realities of OCD, which is nothing like what I thought it was, and still write a compelling, sexy character, who is so much more than his anxiety. My heart goes out to anyone who suffers from OCD. Love cannot cure you, but I hope you find it with someone wonderful, and it brings you peace, hope, and happiness—you deserve it.

  For more information on OCD, visit https://iocdf.org/

  Some Sort of Crazy

  A Happy Crazy Love Novel

  Tell me, what is it you plan to do

  with your one wild and precious life?

  Mary Oliver

  One

  Natalie

  I blame the vodka.

  My sisters and I were out celebrating—oldest sister Jillian had finished her pediatric residency and gotten a job, middle sister Skylar was recently engaged and planning a fall wedding, and I’d just moved into my adorable dream house. It was only about eight o’clock but we’d consumed three dirty martinis apiece in the last hour and a half. Since we’d eaten nothing but the stuffed olives in our cocktails, we were functioning somewhere between Shhhh Don’t Tell Anyone I’m Drunk and Oops I Missed the Barstool.

  We managed to get out the door on our feet, sideways with arms linked, and I’m pretty sure everyone in the place was glad to see us go, since everything was hilarious to us and our laughter had grown increasingly loud and obnoxious.

  “We need Uber,” announced Jillian, breathless from giggling. Her hair was a mess—when she’d arrived at the bar it had been tucked into a pretty chignon but several rounds of arm wrestling had shaken it loose. She had spilled something on the front of her peach blouse too, right on her left nipple. It looked like she was leaking. “No way can any of us drive.”

  “We need food,” I said. “Let’s walk down to O’Malley’s for a burger.”

  “Good idea.” Skylar hiccuped. “Then I’ll call Sebastian to pick ush up.”

  “Ush?” I elbowed her as we started walking down the sidewalk three abreast. But my tongue felt a little numb too.

  “Hey, look!” Jillian stopped walking, but since we were still all connected we yanked her forward a few more steps and she stumbled. “Is that for real?” Detangling her arm from mine she pointed up to the second story of an old Victorian brick building.

  I looked up and squinted at the hand-painted block-lettered sign in the window.

  PSYCHIC MEDIUM

  FREE READING!

  OPEN LATE TONIGHT!

  Skylar gasped. “Let’s do it! Let’s get a psychic reading!”

  “No, I’m starving.” And my bladder was suddenly at max capacity. How had I not noticed it three minutes ago? Vodka was insidious.

  “Well, I want to.” She looked around for a way into the building and took off for a narrow wooden door between two storefronts.

  “Sky, you’re already engaged! You don’t need to know your future. It’s Happily Ever After, The End.” I hopped from one foot to the other and tried not to think about lakes and rivers and gushing waterfalls, which were of course all I could think about.

  Skylar pulled the door open and looked over her shoulder at me. “So you get the free reading. Maybe she’ll tell you whether Dan’s going to shit or get off the pot.”

  “Dan and I already planned to get engaged this year. I don’t need a psychic for that.”

  “You did?” Rolling her eyes, she went on, “God, you guys are so boring. OK, maybe she’ll see a tall, dark, handsome stranger on the horizon for Jillian!”

  “I’m in.” Jillian made a beeline for the door and slipped through it.

  Groaning, I gave up and followed her. If two of us wanted something, the third always ended up giving in. I hadn’t meant to let that slip about getting engaged. It did make things a little anti-climactic if everyone knew it was coming…nothing like Sebastian’s impromptu airplane proposal to Skylar. But then, Skylar was an impromptu kind of girl. I was more of a planner, and I sort of liked the knowing-but-not-knowing…the added anticipation of each date we went on this summer. Every time I got dressed, I’d think, Will this be what I’m wearing when I say yes?

  Because of course I’d say yes—that’s how a love story ends. We’d been together for ten years with only one bad rocky patch last summer when I’d discovered a dick pic on his phone. I wasn’t snooping—it was an accident. I was looking for a shot he’d snapped at my birthday dinner, innocently scrolling through his photos, and there it was. It was definitely his junk, and I knew he hadn’t sent it to me, so I felt justified in glancing at his texts after that. Why take a picture of your dick unless you’re going to send it to someone, right? Dan is a bit self-indulgent and egotistical sometimes, but I didn’t think he’d take that photo just for kicks.

  Sure enough, he’d sent it to a girl at work, amidst a whole flurry of flirty activity. When confronted with it, he’d admitted to some “minor indiscretions,” the details of which I hadn’t wanted to know. He said they didn’t sleep together, begged forgiveness, and promised to try harder, and after some thought, I forgave him and we moved on.

  After all, ten years was a long time, and I hated to think we’d wasted it on each other if we weren’t going to make things work for the long haul. All relationships take work. Plus, I loved him and he loved me. We knew each other inside and out. We were comfortable together, had the same dreams for the future, had the same taste in music, sports, and takeout food. Those were important things, right? People had probably gotten married for worse reasons. Dan and I were compatible. Comfortable. Certainly not as passionate as we once were, and way less hot for each other than Skylar and Sebastian, but after ten years together, is it even possible to sustain that?

  I asked myself that question a lot.

  A lot.

  “Come on, Nat. It’ll be fun!” Skylar thumped me on the back as I passed her. “Live a little, why don’t you! You’re always so fucking sensible.”

  “I’m not being sensible, I’m being hungry. But fine, whatever. I hope the psychic has a bathroom otherwise I see wet pants in my future.” Marching through the door, I followed Jillian up the narrow staircase beyond it. “It smells like cat pee in here,” I whispered. At least I tried to whisper, but I was still inebriated so it came out a little louder than intended, and Jillian shushed me.

  At the top of the stairs were two doors. The one on the right said 2B, but the one on the left had a sign on it:

  MADAM PSUKA: Psychic, Medium, Clairvoyant, Intuitive

  Palm Readings, Dream Analysis, Spiritual Channeling, & Numerology

  FIRST READING FREE*

  *does not include Spiritual Channeling

  Jillian sighed. “Fucking spirits. So expensive all the time.”

  I laughed, crossing my legs at the ankle and squeezing my thighs together. “That’s it. No one make any jokes until I find a bathroom.”

  “Do you think you pronounce that P in her name?” Skylar wondered. “Like, is it Madam Puh-suka?”

  “No.” Jillian looked back at Skylar with what we call her You’re Dumb and I’m a Doctor face. “You don’t say puh-sychic, do you?” Suddenly she looked down at the big wet spot on her boob. “Shit. When did that happen?”

  Moaning in agony even as I laughed, I bent my knees and cupped my crotch as Jillian knocked. “I’m going to wet myself. I’m totally puh-serious.”

  Immediately the door opened and an acrid, smoky smell
drifted into the hallway. The woman who’d opened the door looked nothing like what I’d imagined a psychic medium would look like—no purple turban or chunky gold jewelry or flouncy ruffled skirt. In fact, she looked more like an evening newscaster: blond helmet hair, too much makeup, horn-rimmed glasses. She was barefoot and wore jeans and a flowy black top.

  “Velcome,” she said in a thick accent. At least she sounded like a medium. She looked at each of our faces as we tried to stop snickering and appear presentable, which wasn’t that easy since I was still holding my crotch, Jillian was trying to cover her left nipple, and Skylar hiccuped. “Hm. Three sisters.”

  Skylar poked me in the back, as if she were impressed, but I thought we looked enough alike that anyone could tell we were related, even though Jillian was dark-haired and built more like our dad, tall and thin, while Skylar and I were blonde and curvy like our mom.

  “I am Madam Psuka,” she said grandly, pronouncing the P. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Skylar poke Jillian in the shoulder. “Vould you like reading tonight?” Madam Psuka’s eyes narrowed. “I am getting verrrry strong energy from you.”

  “Yes.” Skylar clapped her hands.

  “Vonderful. Please to come in.” The woman stepped aside and we entered a small, dimly lit front room. I was about to ask vhere the bathroom vas when color and texture and warmth bombarded me. The walls were covered in tapestries, rugs, and blankets in every imaginable hue and pattern. The windows overlooking the street were covered in dozens of sheer jewel-toned scarves, several of which billowed in the early summer breeze. In front of them was a round table covered with a Moroccan print cloth with a chair on each side. The floor was covered by faded Persian rugs in tones of ruby and gold and coral, and large square pillows in royal blue, hot pink, lime green, and leopard print lined the walls. On every available surface not covered with books, and sometimes even on top of the books, candles glowed—most inside lanterns, but some in glass holders or simply set on a plate. From the ceiling hung swooping strands of beads and charms and other trinkets, criss crossing the room clothesline style, and in the two front corners were huge green plants. My eyeballs hurt.

  “Wow,” said Skylar, turning in a slow circle. “This is amazing.”

  “Thank you,” replied Madam Psuka, although the foreign way she pronounced the “th” sound made it sound more like tank you, which was highly appropriate tonight. She shut the door. “I am not here very long, but I try to make the space my own.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Skylar gushed, then hiccuped. “I love all the colors and patterns together. Very bohemian.”

  I made a face at Jillian and she wrinkled her nose. She and I had more understated taste than our fashionably trendy middle sister.

  “What’s that smell?” Jillian asked.

  “Is burning sage. I just finish smudging.” Madam Psuka sounded pleased with her puh-self.

  “What’s smudging?”

  “Is ancient practice used for clearing away negative energy and purifying a space. You are very lucky to be my first reading after is done.” She gestured toward the rug. “Please have seat.”

  “Can I please use your bathroom?” I asked, fidgeting uncomfortably.

  “Of course. Is right over there.” She pointed toward the small galley kitchen, and I found the bathroom right across from it. There was no door, just a curtain of beads, but at this point I didn’t care. After relieving myself of what seemed like fifty pints of pee for every ounce of vodka I’d consumed, I washed my hands and joined my sisters and Madam Psuka on the rug, where they were all sitting cross-legged in a circle like Story Time at the library.

  “She’s going to do a short reading for each of us!” squealed Skylar.

  “Normally I do only one reading per group for free,” explained Madam Psuka. “But the energy is so good tonight that I feel the spirits vant me to be generous.”

  “Wait. Are there spirits here in this room?” Jillian asked, glancing over her shoulder.

  “Of course.” Madam Psuka gave my oldest sister a You’re Dumb and I’m a Medium look. “Spirits are always among us.”

  A cool shivery feeling crept up my back, despite the warmth in the apartment from all the rugs and blankets and candles. Right away I shook it off. Get a hold of yourself. There’s no such thing as spirits or ghosts or even psychics. This is all just for fun.

  “So who is first?” Madam Psuka looked from one sister to the next.

  “Me,” said Jillian, scooting closer to the medium. “I’m the oldest, so I should go first.”

  Skylar and I exchanged a look. How many times had we heard that before?

  Madam Psuka nodded and took Jillian’s hand in both of hers. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and appeared to be concentrating very hard.

  “Should I think about anything in particular?” Jillian asked, and my heart ached a little. I knew how badly she wanted to meet someone.

  “Just relax. Let your mind wander naturally. Let energy of life flow through you.”

  Jillian closed her eyes and the room went silent for a moment, the only sound the sizzle of the candlewicks and the medium’s breathing. Her nose made sort of a whistling noise, and I had to hide my face in my shoulder to keep from laughing.

  Then she spoke. “Are you dirty?”

  For a moment, I was on the verge of cracking up until I realized she meant thirty, but didn’t pronounce her th’s very well. Still, I had to hide my face in my shoulder to stifle the laugh.

  “Yes.” Jillian sounded amazed. “I am thirty. And I was just thinking about my age.”

  “And you are caretaker—no, something stronger. You are healer.”

  Skylar gasped and my jaw fell open. Had we said anything about Jilly being a pediatrician? I didn’t think we had. Could this woman have guessed?

  “You are strong, sympathetic, generous.” Madam Psuka spoke confidently, in amazingly good English considering it wasn’t her first language. “You are always willing to carry more than your fair share of the load. You are loyal and trustworthy. You are often critical of others, but very hard on yourself. You have tendency to be controlling, and sometimes you meddle, especially if you think you know best.” Madam Psuka paused and opened one eye. “Is this accurate?”

  “Yes,” Skylar and I said together.

  Jillian glared at us as the medium went on. “You value visdom and compassion above all.”

  “Thank you,” said Jillian, fidgeting a little. “Is there anything else? Anything about my career? Or my love life?”

  “I cannot direct the energy,” said Madam Psuka. “It reveals at its own vill.” She was quiet for a moment. “But I do see children. Many children.”

  “Many?” Jillian said, her eyes going wide. “How many?”

  “Hundreds.”

  Skylar laughed. “It’s probably your patients, Jilly Bean.”

  “Oh.” Jillian’s shoulders slumped, and she took her hand back. “Right.”

  I felt sorry for her and reached over to pat her shoulder when she scooted back to sit next to me. We hadn’t really talked about it, but maybe Skylar’s wedding was kind of hard on Jillian. She was the oldest and the most traditional, and probably thought she’d be first to get married. She’d definitely talked about it the most as we were growing up. And now Dan and I would be next, and—

  “Next?” asked Madam Psuka, jarring me a little. She was looking at me, too. It was as if she’d heard what I was thinking and was mocking me with the word.

  “Me!” squealed Skylar, crawling over to sit directly in front of Madam Psuka and thrusting out her hand.

  “Hmmm.” The medium closed her eyes and did the breathing thing again. Meanwhile, my stomach started growling like crazy.

  “You are creative and expressive. Your energy is bright, warm, effervescent, and sparkling.”

  Eyes closed, Skylar beamed, and Jillian and I exchanged an eye roll. How many times had we listened to people gush about our effervescent beauty queen sister? Good thing we w
eren’t paying for this.

  “You value harmony, beauty, and pleasure, and enjoy sharing your talents vith the vorld around you. You live life to fullest, often vithout care beyond the present. I am getting feeling that you are not good vith money.”

  I snorted, and Skylar sighed. “That’s true,” she admitted. “But I’m working on it.”

  “Romantic love is verrry strong influence in your life right now, and it will remain so. Its energy surrounds you in almost protective fashion.”

  “I’m getting married,” Skylar said breathlessly. “This fall.”

  “Skylar! You’re not supposed to tell her that.” Jillian threw a hand up. “She’s supposed to guess it.”

  Madam Psuka chuckled. “I might have guessed it. Is obviously very strong bond between them.”

  “Anything else?” Skylar said eagerly.

  “Just the feeling of calm. I believe you are entering new phase of your life that will be long-lasting and peaceful and happy.”

  Skylar practically floated back to her spot on the rug. “Your turn, Nat.”

  I scooted in front of the medium and held out my hand.

  “A skeptic.” Madam Psuka sized me up correctly.

  “Maybe I am a little skeptical,” I admitted. “But what the heck? I’m here.”

  She took my hand and held it between both of hers, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. Within seconds, I felt a sort of humming sensation in my arm, and it was more than a little disconcerting. While both of my sisters had closed their eyes during their readings, I kept mine open.

  “You are organizer, planner, manager. You are dedicated and idealistic. Vhat you conceive in your mind you are able to achieve because you are practical, talented, and villing to vork. You know how to get a job done. But you may appear stubborn because once you make a decision, you follow it through to the end, right or wrong.”