Page 62 of Crazy Good
I lean down, buzzing my lips around her ear, and I whisper, “If that’s what you want. Is that what you want?” I meet her gaze. She swallows. The air changes and I know she’s about to say something that will rock me to my core or bring me to my fucking knees.
Her lips brush mine when she whispers, “Love doesn’t die, Maverick. I love you.” She shakes her head. “But I can’t be with you. We’re too different. You’re toxic.” My heart thumps unevenly and my stomach tightens. We may be toxic for each other, but I’m lethal without her. Windsor leans away.
“We’ll be friends who are in love with each other, then. Brilliant.” I sneer. One way or another, I will get her back. Right now I have absolutely no idea how that is even possible. Love isn’t enough. She looks unimpressed with my solution. With a hard shove, she pushes me back into the plush leather chair. I won’t be able to get up again.
Spreading a blanket over me, she shakes her head. “I’m not going to leave you by yourself.”
I watch her move around my living room scouting pillows and blankets for the couch. My eyes get heavy, but I keep them open because I know when they open again it will be morning and she’ll be gone. Her hair fans over the pillow when she turns to look at me from her bed on the large sofa. It looks like it’s swallowing her.
“It didn’t have to be like this,” she says.
Instead of responding I close my eyes to black. I want to fall asleep with her face in my mind. That way I can dream about the way her lips brushed mine when she told me she loved me. And also so I can spin a fictional tale for my subconscious about how different my relationship with Windsor would be if Stone didn’t die.
*****
The vomit rises from my stomach through my chest and finally out onto the floor, mingling with shards of glass from the night before. “Fuck,” I whisper. I never vomit after drinking. My stomach is like a steel trap. I can’t even force myself to puke. My mouth tastes like bitter beer and stomach acid. I wince.
A towel hits me in the face. Morganna and Windsor stand over me.
Morganna sneers. “Clean that shit up. God, you are despicable.”
Windsor turns away. I’m so fucking embarrassed.
“You were doing good, too. Which is the only reason I sent him over last night, Win. You have to know I didn’t think this is what he’d do. When I spoke with Gretchen earlier yesterday, she told me things were progressing…in your relationship and I needed to intervene.”
Great. “Jesus Morganna is nothing sacred? My head is pounding. Can I just talk to Windsor…alone?” She didn’t leave. She’s still here. That has to be a good sign.
“You should probably brush your teeth first. I’m going to work in the office,” Morg responds before answering her shrill blue tooth, walking away to one of my back rooms she’s set up as a small office. Windsor crosses her arms over her chest, averting her gaze completely.
“I’m sorry for last night. Fuck, you know…I’m just sorry in general,” I say.
She clears her throat. “I’m so sick of hearing apologies. I wish the people in my life would just stop fucking up.” She glances at me, but then quickly away.
I start cleaning up my disgusting mess. Windsor holds out a bottle of cleaner and sits on the coffee table while I work. My head feels like it’s going to explode.
“That said, of course I forgive you. I forgive everybody. Maybe that’s my problem. I told you not to lie to me…remember what happened? I ended up verbally accosted by your wife, Mav. You were…are married. I’ve tried to concoct a lie worse than that—I can’t.”
I freeze. “Never say that. The fact that you’re so forgiving is what makes you different, Win. It’s you. It’s one of the reasons why I lo—” I look at her.
Her sad forlorn face is broken. I’m not even sure what else to say. I can’t finish what I was going to say. She smiles. It’s a weak attempt atI’m okay.I see through it because her eyes sayI’m broken.
“Monica was never my wife in the true sense of the word. She was my last ditch effort to do the right thing by my family.” I tell her everything. Sitting on the floor, next to my mess I let the horrible story pour from my mouth in its entirety. I tell her things I’ve never told anyone else because she deserves the full truth. I admit the only reason I kept it from her was because I was scared to lose her. She points out I did that all on my own without Monica’s help and that I made a promise not to lie. “I omitted a half truth. That’s all it was. I’m sorry for that. I am. I can’t imagine what you faced in the hospital with her. She’s always been a little…catty.”
“Thank you for explaining. Consider yourself absolved of all wrongdoing when it comes to her. It’s already in the past. I’m sorry, too. You know? I can’t take back the things I never said,” she continues, but her eyes are focused on the floor. I nod even though she can’t see me. It’s all I can do. I don’t trust my words. “I have to get going. I have plans today. Goose is probably wondering where I’m at, too. I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”
She has plans…plans that probably include John Nash. I’m still wrapping my mind around the fact that she’s giving him another chance. She wouldn’t be Windsor if she didn’t though. That’s the catch twenty-two with someone like her.
“We should have plans. What about our plans?” I ask, desperate. I need her. She has to see how much I need her. I’ve never truly needed anyone the way I need her in my life right now. In this moment, as she looks at me with a face full of remorse and eyes full of love, I know she will be the person to bring me back to life. “He has plans with you today so give me plans tomorrow. I want tomorrow.” I’m sharing her. That’s what this fucked up situation has deteriorated to and I have no one to blame but myself.
She shakes her head. “I had years to get over my failed relationship with Nash, Mav. That’s why it’s easy to begin a friendship with him. With you…I’m still raw and confused. I need some time to figure out how to be your friend. I’m here for you. If you truly need me, then call. I’ll see you later, okay? I have to go talk to Morganna.” She looks down at me, still on the floor cleaning my mess. “Stay sober, Maverick. And don’t do it for anyone except yourself,” she demands. Windsor looks like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t. Disappearing into the same room as Morganna, she closes the door behind her, leaving me alone with a disaster.
After I finish cleaning and shove leftovers down my protesting throat, I shower and get ready, actually giving a shit about my appearance for the first time in months. When I exit my bedroom to head out to the garage, I hear hushed whispers coming from the office down the hall. Then a small, very recognizable sob—Windsor’s crying. A few seconds later Windsor runs from the room. She heads to the front door barely looking at me as she rushes away, some sort of paper in her hand. The horrified look on her face freezes me to my spot. “What’s the matter Windsor?”
She shakes her head, wipes her eyes, and runs out of my front door. A guilty looking Morganna appears a few seconds later. “She just needs a push in the right direction,” she admits, swallowing hard. She’s said something. She’s done something.
“What did you tell her? Why is she so upset?”
Morganna fidgets, pushing her black dress down as Steve barrels in the front door.
