Crazy Thing Called Love (17 page)

“Well, I don’t know that they’ll love me getting married either.”

Billy cupped her face in his hands, her hair pulled slightly under his palms but she didn’t say anything.

Pain and pleasure. With Billy you couldn’t have one without the other.

“You are the only person that matters to me,” he said, kissing her cheeks, her eyelids. “The only family I need.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. Why was she fighting?

“After my birthday and the draft.”

He reeled back, joy all over his face. “Really?”

“Really.”

He whooped, picked her up, and spun her, her feet clanging into the garbage can that her father emptied every night.

“But—” she said and he stopped. “We have to talk to my parents.”

He set her down, the first storm clouds entering those brown eyes. “After we elope?”

“Why are we eloping?” she asked, dropping her arms from around his neck. It was getting cooler in the arena.

“You want my family at your wedding?”

No. She didn’t. But she didn’t want to lose the white dress and her dad walking her down the aisle either. “I want to tell my parents about this. I can’t just surprise them with it.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because my family is important to me.”

“They won’t like it, Maddy. They don’t like me.”

“That’s not true, Billy. They don’t know you. You don’t let them.” He groaned and stepped away. Now it was freezing. She grabbed her coat and shrugged into it.

“I don’t want to fight,” she said, pushing her hands into her mittens.

“Me neither,” he said, like it was all her fault. She reached out and stroked his back while he zipped up his jeans.

“It means a lot to me,” she said and he sighed. “That you would try to get to know them better. Not every family is like yours. And not every dad—”

“I get it, Maddy.”

She nodded and backed off, knowing it was such a sore subject for him. They could never talk about his family without getting into a fight.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, changing the subject for everyone’s sake. Because he would just stew and get moodier and the night would be ruined.

“Starved!”

“Primanti Brothers?”

“Oh my God. Yes!” he groaned and they both collected his things. When they stepped out into the cold night, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed into her hair. His breath fogging the air in front of her, obscuring her world.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And really, what more did she need? As long as he loved her, they could make anything work.

After Maddy had
divorced him and moved down to Florida with her mother, Billy had been unable to stay in that big house he’d bought. So he went back home to his mother. To his sisters.

They weren’t the family he hungered for but they were what he had. And at that moment, it had been enough.

Their vileness, their small hearts, their cruelty. It had fed the poisonous weeds growing in the place where all his love had been.

They drank together. Cursed Maddy. Cursed their lives. And when he woke up one morning and decided that he’d had enough, they’d held on. For money. For fame.

They sold information to any gossip magazine. Ugly details about his childhood, his marriage. And if the tabloids didn’t want the truth, his sisters made up terrible lies. It had been embarrassing, angering, frustrating, until finally he just shut and locked the door between him and them. Effectively ending his relationship with the only family he had left.

However, Tuesday night Billy sat in his dark kitchen thinking about opening that door again, even though he was certain nothing good would come of it.

The shadows lay like cats over the furniture, over the bare skin of his arms and chest. And he was cold—no
warmth was to be leeched from the shadows, from his empty house.

On the table, his cell phone sat in a bright puddle of moonlight beaming in from the window behind him.

You said you would do it
, he told himself, and then, before he could talk himself out of it, he picked up the phone and dialed a number he knew by heart.

The number to that black home where he’d grown up.

“The number you have dialed,” a robotic woman’s voice repeated the familiar digits, “is no longer in service. Please check your number and try again.”

He hung his head, the phone clasped between his praying hands. “Thank God,” he murmured. He’d tried. He had no other number for his sisters, there wasn’t much more he could do.

Bullshit
, a voice inside of him said.

Out from under the locked door slipped the memory of that three-year-old girl at the funeral. Wide-eyed and stoic. A bright red ribbon in her hair.

Swearing, he pushed the speed dial button for his lawyer’s office. He wasn’t sure if Ted was the right guy to call; he probably needed a private investigator, but at least it was a start.

After the voicemail beep he explained the situation with his sisters and asked for help tracking them down.

When he hung up he felt sick, pursued.

He hoped that the poison of his past wasn’t going to ruin his future.

“I’ve got the world on a string,” Billy sang under his breath as he walked into the glittering red and gold ballroom at the Four Seasons.

He wasn’t a huge Sinatra fan, but when a guy looked this good in a tux, Springsteen just didn’t cut it.

It was Saturday night and Billy had put in a little extra
effort getting ready for the New School fund-raiser. He’d moisturized, for crying out loud. Underneath his new tux, he was soft as a baby.

But it was all working for him. Women were giving him second looks as he walked by, and the men he passed smiled, nodding their heads, like putting on a tux and slicking back his hair elevated Billy into a certain club.

Hell, maybe it did. It’s not like he’d ever done this shit before.

As a rule Billy avoided these black-tie charity functions like the plague. He donated plenty of money, so he got invited to a lot of them, but he never went.

He was breaking that rule tonight—in a big way. Tonight, he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.

Maddy was going to die when she saw him.

In a good way, he hoped. Die in a good way.

Thanks to the stupid bow tie, he was a little later than he’d expected and wasn’t sure if he was still able to get to the hotel before her.

Scanning the room, he saw plenty of black ties and sequins, and the requisite ice sculpture in the corner—an open book, how fitting. Under the crystal chandeliers, waiters with trays circulated among the crowd, but no Maddy.

Thank God
. He blew out the breath he’d been holding. He needed a few minutes to find something to eat and get his skates under him. Across the room, Luc—looking dapper as always—waved him over to join the small crowd of people he was entertaining. Billy swore to himself.

He was going to have to mingle and shit. In his excitement to see Maddy, he’d managed to forget that small detail.

Maybe he’d just grab something to eat before heading over there. He tried to catch the eye of one of the waiters
who was carrying a tray of appetizers, only to catch the eye of Coach Hornsby instead.

“Hey, Coach,” he said, trying to be polite. Friendly, even. Coach Hornsby was big on charity, and he’d probably open his wallet pretty wide tonight.

“Billy.” They quickly shook hands as if it were a chore. “Luc was telling me that this school was actually your idea?” Coach said it like he couldn’t quite believe it, and Billy laughed.

“Sounds crazy, huh?”

“Uh …”

“It’s okay, Coach. Actually, it was an idea I’ve had for a long time and last summer I ran it by Tara Jean and Luc, who had started up their foundation to help kids. The next thing I knew they were getting this whole thing organized. So I can’t claim much more than the idea. The rest is all them.”

“Well, no matter what, I’m pretty impressed.”

And that
, Billy thought,
is because I have set the bar so low
. God, this bow tie was too tight. He lifted his chin, stretching his neck.

“You know, I’ve also been impressed with you on that show,” Coach Hornsby said. “That morning makeover thing.”

Oh, this was getting out of hand. He could feel his whole body flushing. “Yeah?”

“You’re doing great. Front office has had a lot of calls about you.”

So was Billy’s agent. A men’s soap company wanted to talk to him about doing an ad. With leprechauns. It was ridiculous.

“What kind of calls?”

“Good ones.” Hornsby grinned at him like a proud father and it rankled so hard, so suddenly, Billy had to take a step back. It was a knee jerk reaction, he knew that, one he’d been having with people all his life.

Don’t get close. I’ll only fail you
.

No other coach had expected this much from him. Billy did his job on the ice and they were happy. There was none of this heart-to-heart, I’m-proud-of-you nonsense.

“I’m impressed, Billy. I’m impressed by how honest you are on that show. None of the bullshit I usually see.”

“It’s only clothes,” he snapped, even though that hadn’t been his intention. Hornsby blinked, surprised, like the friendly dog he’d been patting had just snapped at him.

And whatever normalcy there had been between them was ruined. Another one of Billy’s special skills. “I need to … ah …” He pointed vaguely toward Luc.

“Sure. Nice talking to you.” Hornsby walked away, probably grateful for the escape.

I’m no good at this
, Billy thought, watching the guy go.

Luc approached with a plate full of appetizers and Billy’s stomach growled in welcome.

“Hey, buddy.” He pulled two shrimp off Luc’s plate.

“Here,” Luc handed him the plate. “You look good, man.”

“Thanks. Took me forever to tie this stupid tie.”

“They’re tricky.”

“So … you think it’s going well?” Billy asked, dipping a crab cake into some spicy white sauce. Awesome.

Luc nodded. “Yeah, I do. Tara Jean is excited because the consultant we hired says the fund-raiser is better attended than expected. We’ve got the education commissioner here and she seems pretty fired up about the whole thing, talking about a citywide program. I think you’ve really started something.”

“It wasn’t me,” Billy said, catching sight of Tara Jean walking toward them. “It was your girlfriend.”

Luc and Billy watched as TJ approached, glimmering like a disco ball.

“She is something, isn’t she?” Luc murmured, a private smile that spoke volumes on his face. Billy focused on another crab cake.

When she finally reached them, Tara Jean kissed Luc and gave Billy a hug.

“You ready to say a few words?” she asked.

“Who? Me?” Billy pointed to himself.

“Yes, you.”

He looked to Luc for help, but his friend only shrugged.

“She said you promised.”

“Not yet,” he said. “Let me eat and have a drink. Loosen up.”

Billy pinched a broken crab cake between his fingers and tipped back his head to drop the crumbs into his mouth. Tara and Luc stared at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Why don’t you just lick the plate?” Tara asked.

“Very funny.”

“When is your manners makeover?” Luc asked.

“Friday,” he said, and caught a piece of crab cake in his hand as it fell out of his mouth.

“Not soon enough,” Tara muttered.

“Come on, it’s enough that I get harassment from Maddy.”

“Maddy …” Tara drew the name out like a five syllable word.

To counteract the blush roaring up his neck Billy took a bite of a spring roll.

“You guys are so good together on that show,” Tara said.

Oh honey
, he thought with an internal grin, not unlike Luc’s external one a second ago,
you don’t know the half of it
.

What happened in the office Friday was like a dream he kept getting lost in. The memory of her touch was so immediate it was as if she were right there, at his shoulder, her palm against his cheek.

He couldn’t help but smile. Was it ideal? No. But it was better than nothing.

“So … I take it things are going well?” Tara Jean and Luc exchanged slightly baffled looks.

There were things on the tip of his tongue that he didn’t even realize he wanted to say, but suddenly now in this moment, in a tux with crab on the jacket, he needed to get them off his chest.

“I love her.” The feeling exploded in his body, blowing him wide open. He pretended to wipe off his hands in an effort to expel the energy that rippled through him, nervous and wild.

It wasn’t a revelation to him. He’d loved Maddy since he was fifteen. Divorce hadn’t changed that. Fourteen years apart, her anger and resentment, even as she had sex with him—all of those obstacles were minuscule compared to his feelings.

And those feelings had been in storage for a long time. It felt good to dust them off and set them up in the sunlight, where things like love belonged.

“Does … does she love you back?” Luc asked. “Are you getting back together?”