This Is Crazy

by Natasha Madison

  This Is Crazy

  Natasha Madison

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Epilogue Two

  About the Author

  Books By Natasha Madison

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright © 2019 Natasha Madison. E-Book and Print Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons or living or dead, events or locals are entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ Use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved

  Cover Design: Jay Aheer https://www.simplydefinedart.com/

  Editing done by Jenny Sims Editing4Indies

  Proofing Julie Deaton by Deaton Author Services https://www.facebook.com/jdproofs/

  Created with Vellum

  To YOU the reader thank you for making my dreams come true!

  Chapter One

  Zara

  “So what are your plans for winter break?” my twin sister, Zoe, asks me while we are on FaceTime. I lean back in the chair and look out the small window in my little home office at the raindrops lingering on the glass. We are both now in New York, but she lives in Soho in my brother-in-law Max’s loft, and I live in Brooklyn in my sister-in-law Karrie’s house.

  It was no surprise we both ended up in New York. Our parents live in their house on Long Island, and my brother Matthew is the captain of the New York Stingers. My brother-in-law Max is the assistant of the team. Those two used to hate each other, but now they are always together.

  “I have no idea. I have to ask Ed,” I tell her of my boyfriend. We have been dating for over a year now, and I just met his parents, and he met mine. “I feel like something big is going to happen.”

  Her eyes go big. “No way. What kind of big? Like big, let’s move in together, or big, let’s buy a mansion and have your sister commission it?” she jokes, and it makes me laugh. As an up-and-coming real estate broker, she is slowly becoming the top player in the game.

  “I don’t know,” I tell her. Sitting up, I cross my arms on the desk and lean toward the computer. I’m working from home today, but I will have to go into the office tomorrow morning. And by office, I mean Nordstrom. I have my dream job as personal shopper. I started at the bottom of the chain—sure, my family came in, and I dressed them all—but I finally got my name out there when Tyler Beckett came in one day with his then fiancée Jessica, and I dressed her for the red carpet event where her dress was ruined. They are Hollywood’s royalty, and I dressed them. It was an honor, but what happened next was surreal. They say all it takes is one person, and that really is what it took. Soon, they were booking appointments just for me. Now I’m slowly building up my clientele so I can open my own company called Zara’s Closet. The good news is that even the designers are reaching out to give me samples. It’s a dream come true. “I just feel like something is coming, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Well, maybe he’s finally going to propose,” she says, and I open my eyes wide.

  “Don’t put it out there in the universe,” I tell her. “It jinxes things. Remember when we put it in the universe about prom?”

  She rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t that bad. We both took the top ranked rookies of the year!” She smirks. “We also got a Hummer stretch.”

  “We also didn’t lose our virginity like we planned,” I tell her. “Those rookies didn’t even want to hold our hands.”

  “That’s because Matthew gave them the dick shrinking talk before they got there,” she reminds me. Since he’s seventeen years older than us, our brother is always blocking the guys from us.

  “This is what I’m talking about,” I tell her.

  “We were dumped two days before prom because you decided it would be a good idea to put a tracker on his phone.” She shakes her head.

  “That’s because I had a feeling he was cheating on me, and you see I was right. I had a feeling in my gut.” I slap my hand on the desk. I knew he was cheating. I felt it because he turned evasive and was all of a sudden always busy.

  “You replaced his yearbook picture with picture of a pig.” She laughs now and doesn’t do it quietly.

  “You helped me,” I tell her. “You were the one who broke into student life and changed the picture.” She just shakes her head, and I hear the doorbell. “I have to go. Ed is here, so I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Unless you get engaged, then you call me ASAP,” she tells me before I disconnect. Pushing away from the desk, I stand and walk down the steps to the front door. The doorbell rings again as soon as I get to the door, and I unlock it.

  “Hey,” I say, smiling at a frowning Ed.

  “It’s raining out here, and it took you forever to get to the door,” he says, shaking off his jacket and spraying me with water.

  “Well, hello to you too,” I mumble, closing the door behind him as he takes off his shoes. “I didn’t know you were on your way. You didn’t send a text.”

  “I was in the area,” he tells me. “I was visiting a client.” I smile and walk to him. He matches my five-feet-eight height. If I wear heels, I’m taller than him—something that he hates—so I only wear heels when he isn’t around. He is wearing a custom-made suit; I should know because I had it made for him. As a financial advisor at the top firm on Wall Street, he’s making a name for himself. “I figured I would come by.”

  He doesn’t make eye contact, and my stomach starts to turn over. “Do you have time to stay for lunch, or is this just a quickie?” I walk to him and put my hand on his stomach, throwing my arm around his shoulders.

  “Actually,” he says, walking out of my touch, “let’s go sit on the couch and talk.” Just the way he says that, I now know something is coming.

  “What’s going on?” I ask him, not moving from the door. “You are acting really weird.”

  He puts his hands in his pockets, and I look at him. “Listen.” I cringe. Nothing good happens when someone starts with listen. “Things are just moving too fast.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m under pressure at work to perform, and well, I think I just need to …”

  “You’re breaking up with me?” I ask him, not even sure I need to ask the question.

  “Not so much breaking up, but maybe just stepping back and taking a break.” His voice is soft, and I have the urge to cry, but I have the bigger urge to charge at him.

  I put my hand up, and I point at him. “If you giv
e me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ talk …” I stop talking before I threaten him.

  “I’m sorry,” he says softly. Grabbing his jacket in his hand, he walks to me, and I put my hand up to stop him. He just nods and walks out the door. I watch him through the frosted glass as he gets into his waiting Town Car. I walk to the stairs, turning around and sitting on the step. My phone pings in my hand, and I look down to see that is Zoe. I swear we feel each other’s pain.

  I dial her, and she answers with a low tone. “Don’t tell me.”

  “He broke up with me,” I say, putting my hand to my mouth to stop the sobs from ripping through me.

  “I’ll be there in ten,” she says and disconnects, and I know that wherever she is, she will be here in ten minutes.

  Chapter Two

  Zara

  “Do you want to car pool to Mom and Dad’s after the game?” Zoe asks me, forcing me to look up from the salad I’m scooting around my plate.

  I shrug. “I guess it would make the most sense.” I drop my fork.

  “It’s been four months.” She raises her voice to get my attention. “Four months, not weeks.” She leans toward me to hiss the last part.

  “I know … it’s just …” I don’t know how to explain it. “I really loved him.”

  Zoe leans back in her chair, and I look at her. We couldn’t be more different in style. She is always dressed for business whereas I’m sitting here in my tight light blue jeans with a white tank top and a long gray knitted sweater. Sure, I have Louboutin on my feet and my tan Hermes purse, but other than that, my long blond hair is piled on top of my head while hers is long to her waist in loose curls. “We are going to leave here. We are going to go to your house, and then I’m going to choose an outfit for you.” I raise an eyebrow, and she rolls her eyes. “Okay fine, you will help me pick out an outfit for you this Saturday. You are going to dress up and put on more than just mascara.”

  “I wear makeup. I’m just working from home today,” I tell her. I mean, I put on some foundation and lip gloss yesterday when I had to meet a client. I even did my hair. Okay fine, there was half a bottle of dry shampoo in my hair, but it was sort of styled.

  “I think it’s safe to say the mourning of Ed is over.” She picks up her water and raises her hand when she sees the waitress. “You’ve done the ‘he left me, let’s eat ice cream’ for a week.” I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “Then you did the ‘why didn’t he love me’ song for two weeks.”

  “It was a day,” I point out, and she now raises her eyebrow at me. “Okay fine, it was two weeks, but seriously, I loved him.”

  “Well, I think we are going in the right direction. You just used the past tense of love,” she says, clapping her hands. I exhale a big breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Anyway, the point is that you need to get back on that horse.”

  “What if all I’m riding are donkeys?” I ask. “What if I never fall in love again?”

  “Are you kidding me?” she snaps, and I know her sympathy is out the window. In fact, it was out the window two days after the breakup. “Did you really love him?”

  “Yes,” I shriek.

  “He didn’t even know you were faking,” she hisses, trying to whisper, and I gasp. “Every time.”

  “That was a secret.” I reach for my bag and start to get up, and she tosses the napkin that was on her lap on the table. “A secret between twins.”

  “I know what a secret between twins means, jackass.” She calls me the name I hate. “I’ve obviously kept it a secret because you don’t have Vivienne blowing up your phone.”

  I don’t say anything to her while we walk out, but she isn’t wrong. Vivienne is my sister-in-law Karrie’s best friend. She’s originally from France but now calls New York home. She has one rule when it comes to dating—it’s sex and nothing but sex—and she’s very vocal about how many times she gets it and how good she gets it. So if she knew that I got it and didn’t get it good, she would have rectified that. We walk out to the busy street, hearing the sound of honking everywhere.

  “Where are you going now?” she asks me, and I look at the Town Car parked at the curb waiting for her. “I’m heading back to the office. Did you need a lift?” she says, walking to the car. The driver gets out to open her door for her, and she shakes her head. “Ricky, you don’t need to open my door.”

  “Ms. Stone.” He starts talking. “Your father gave me strict orders to make sure you were well taken care of.”

  I try to hide my laughter by rolling my lips. My parents are huge Dateline fans, and when they watched the one where the real estate agent was killed showing a house, they went a touch overboard by hiring him to drive and stay with her everywhere. That was two months ago, but she is the sensible one who will give in to them until she snaps. Me, on the other hand, I would have squashed that idea the minute they mentioned it.

  “It’s finally a nice day, so I think I’m going to walk,” I tell her, and she looks at me in surprise. “It’s two blocks. I can survive.” I laugh and blow her a kiss, then turn to walk down the sidewalk toward my brownstone. You can tell spring is in the air; the birds are chirping, and the trees are finally starting to get some green on them. I stop at the flower shop around the corner from my house and pick up some tulips. My feet finally start to hate me when I’m walking up the stairs to the brownstone. I unlock the door and slip my shoes off, then make my way to the kitchen to find a glass vase.

  “Bring some sunshine to my day,” I tell myself, placing the glass vase with pink tulips in the middle of the white counter. My phone pings, and when I walk back to my purse and pick it up, I see a couple of messages from a couple of clients. I walk up the stairs to my office when another one ping comes in. This time, it’s from Vivi.

  Vivi: I heard you are taking your vagina out for a walk again. See you Saturday.

  I shake my head and immediately text Zoe.

  Me: What did you tell Vivi?

  She responds immediately.

  Zoe: That you are finally ready to come out and socialize.

  I toss my phone down and block it all out while I work, only looking up when my stomach rumbles. I close my computer and walk downstairs, taking out a prepared meal that my mother had sent over. The rest of the week was uneventful. I was swamped at work with the summer season coming and people already arranging their summer wardrobe.

  I’m bending down to zip up my suede black high heel bootie when the doorbell rings, but then the door opens. “Bonjour,” I hear singsonged and know it’s Vivienne.

  “We’re here,” I hear Zoe yell from the stairs.

  “Coming.” I grab my black suede jacket and slip it on. I pull my hair out of the jacket and grab the gray knitted scarf to wrap around my neck. I walk down the stairs and look for them in the living room, but it’s empty. I hear giggling and know that they are most likely in the kitchen. I walk in, and Vivienne is just toasting with her wine glass.

  “Jesus, we get it,” Vivi says. “You’re in mourning.” I look down at my outfit. Okay, the black jeans with matching shirt.

  I throw my head back and laugh. “I swear, it wasn’t what I was going for.” I put my hand on my stomach. “I swear.”

  “Come, let’s do a toast,” Vivi says, and I walk to the counter as she pours me a glass of white wine. “To your brother and Max.”

  I throw my head back and moan. “How long are these retirement toasts going to go on for?” I ask, gulping down my wine.

  “It’s not every day they retire,” Zoe says, and I glare at her.

  “They aren’t even retired. They are retiring”—I gulp more wine—“in three months. We’ve been toasting them since August when they announced it.”

  “I don’t make the rules. I just live by them,” Vivi says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Now, let’s go before we get stuck in a shitload of traffic.”

  I finish my glass, then set the glasses in the sink and run out to meet them in the Town Car. “Well, this is surprising,” I
say, getting in and earning a punch in the arm from Zoe. “Ouch,” I say, touching my arm. “I was just pointing out it’s surprising Ed’s working on Saturday.” She winds up again, and I jump back. “Enough.”

  As we make our way to the arena, all three of us are on our phones instead of talking to each other. “Are you still following Ed?” my sister asks me, and I turn and look at her.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I blocked him. Why?”

  “Um,” she says, and I grab the phone from her. There on the screen in an Instagram picture is Ed with a brunette.

  I look at her, and now Vivi is leaning over Zoe to see. “It could be a friend from work.”

  “Yes,” Vivi says, “who he fucks.” I open my mouth. “Her hand is on his stomach, and his is on her shoulder.” I look down and see that she’s right. “You only pose like that with someone you’ve been naked with.”

  “No, it’s not,” I say, looking at Zoe to help me out, and she shrugs her shoulders. “I have posed like that with Justin countless of times,” I say, mentioning our little brother and then looking at Vivi who does a disgusted face.

  “I don’t really think you have.” I grab my own phone now and scroll to the album that we have together. Standing at six foot five, my brother’s a monster. With jet black hair and light blue eyes, he’s my father’s clone. “Okay, fine,” I say when I finish looking at all the pictures and don’t find any that support my claim. I grab Zoe’s phone and go through his pictures now, and there is only one more with this woman. “Brenda.”