This Is Crazy

by Natasha Madison

  The flight goes by faster than I thought, and by the time I’m finished checking my email and responding, the flight attendant is opening the door for me. I walk out, and I’m met by Zoe who stands by her Town Car. Her phone in her hand as her fingers fly over the keyboard.

  “Well, well,” I say when I finally get close enough to her. “To what do I owe this surprise?”

  She looks up and smiles. “I saw your cupcakes on Instagram.” She winks at me. “Sweet Zara.” She makes fun of the nickname.

  “I already ate two,” I tell her, and I wish I was lying. “The red velvet and the carrot cake.”

  “Ugh,” she says. Turning and opening the back door for me, she holds out her hands for the white box. “What’s left?”

  “I think chocolate and vanilla,” I say, scooting over so she can get in.

  “Ugh, those suck,” she says and opens the box and then glares at me. “That is not funny. This is a Reese’s peanut butter cupcake,” she says with a smile. She reaches into the box and takes it out and bites into it and some of the frosting gets on her nose. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life,” she says between bites. “It’s so good.”

  “Yeah, the other one is smores,” I tell her, and then the phone beeps in my pocket. I see it’s a text from Evan.

  Evan: Don’t watch the game tonight.

  I look over to see what Zoe is doing, and she is chewing the cupcake with her eyes closed.

  Me: And why is that.

  He answers right away.

  Evan: Because I’m going to suck, and I don’t want you to see it.

  Me: Doubt it.

  I don’t tell him that I’ve watched every single game he’s played in the hotel room. I don’t tell him I’ve cheered so loud when he’s scored that the front desk called to check and see if I was okay.

  I get home and walk into the house, seeing the mountain of mail that Zoe picked up while I was gone. I carry the suitcase upstairs and start a load of wash. Zoe comes back up carrying two glasses of wine.

  “What time is your flight tomorrow?” she asks me, handing me one glass.

  “My flight is at noon,” I tell her. “I get in at two.” Putting my glass of wine down, I go to grab my other luggage.

  “How long are you there for?” she asks, grabbing her phone and lying on my bed.

  “I swear, I thought I would get a little bit of a break after award season was over,” I tell her, looking at the closet and packing things. “Instead, it’s even more busy.”

  “They all want to shop at Zara’s Closet.” She smiles at me.

  For the next two hours, I show her the different outfits that I am packing, and she also takes a couple home to “spice them up,” as she says. When it’s close to seven, the doorbell rings. We look at each other and then walk downstairs. The man at the door holds two pizzas.

  “Delivery for Ms. Stone,” he says and hands me both pies and then turns and walks away.

  “I think your man is trying to get you to like him. You know the saying the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?” she says, grabbing one box and bringing it to her nose and smelling it. “I’m starving.”

  She walks into the living room, and I turn on the television and go to the guide. When I turn on his game, my sister moans.

  “The least we can do is watch his hockey game.”

  She looks over at me and glares. “He isn’t trying to get me to like him,” she says, and then I turn the volume up and see that the game has already started. I grab a slice of pizza and watch the game. Finally, when it’s the third period, Zoe gets up and stretches. “I’m bringing the pizza home since you are leaving tomorrow.” She puts the leftover slices into one box. “When are you going to be home?” she asks, looking over her shoulder.

  “I don’t know,” I tell her the truth, and I stand. “I was thinking of going to the casino night and staying for a couple of days.” I try to avoid her stare by looking at the television.

  She smiles at me. “Going to get the D.”

  I shake my head. “Maybe not the D, but I am going to see him.”

  “Does he know?” she asks me, and I shake my head

  “I want to surprise him,” I say with my own sly smile. I hear the announcer say his name, and I look up to see the other team has scored.

  “What a horrible turnover from Richards,” he says, and I watch the replay. “That is just a horrible, horrible turnover.” You see that he was trying to pass it to his line mate, and the defense got a touch of the puck, and the other team went out to score. “It’s a rookie mistake I don’t think he’ll make again.” The cameraman goes to Evan where he’s sitting on the bench. His hands are in front of him, and he is just watching the play. I turn off the game and walk Zoe out and then walk upstairs.

  I close the luggage and grab my phone. I don’t know if I should text him or not. I text him anyway.

  Me: Thank you for the pizza.

  I sit in bed, waiting for his reply. I try not to let it get to me when I know the game is over, yet he doesn’t answer me. When I finally turn off the lights, it’s after one a.m. and still nothing.

  Nothing during my coffee, nothing while I’m waiting for my flight, and nothing when I land. It’s like he’s gone off the grid, and it bothers me. Or pisses me off. I’m not sure yet which one I am. I think I’m more aggravated.

  When I’m standing there waiting for my luggage to come out, my phone finally rings.

  “What,” I snap.

  “Whoa there,” he says, laughing. “I take it that it wasn’t a good flight.”

  “The flight was fine.” My tone doesn’t change, and then I’m too stubborn to even listen to myself. “Where have you been?’

  “I’ve been at T-Mobile all day,” he says. “I kind of got a bit aggravated after the game last night. And well, apparently a concrete wall can totally win against an iPhone.” When he laughs, everything that I’ve been feeling is out the window. I’m not mad at him anymore or aggravated with him. I’m sad I’m not there to tell him that it’s just a game.

  “It’s just a game,” I tell him softly, “and everyone has bad games.”

  “I know that, sweet Zara,” he says softly. “I just … my head wasn’t in the game, and it should have been.”

  “Well, what were you thinking about?” I ask him, my stomach tight and my heart speeding up.

  “I was thinking about this strawberry blond, green-eyed sweet woman who has taken over all my thoughts,” he says softly, and I smile. “She has me tied up in knots, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “Have you told her?” I ask him, spotting my bag and not even moving.

  “I’m thinking about it,” he says. “I’m just scared that she isn’t ready for it yet.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” I say, and finally, all the stress from the day suddenly leaves me.

  “I have to get my bag,” I tell him. “I’ll call you when I get to the hotel.”

  “Okay, sweet Zara,” he says.

  “If I were you, I would think about telling this girl how you feel,” I joke with him, and he laughs.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, sweet Zara.” And I hang up to the sound of his laughter.

  Between his games on the road and my clients and the different time zones, we’ve spoken maybe twice. Many texts going back and forth, and although I’ve decided to go to the casino night, and I even have a ticket and a hotel reservation, he hasn’t asked me about it.

  I’m zipping up my bag when my phone rings, and I see it’s him. “Hello,” I answer and hold the phone with my shoulder while I get my other bag ready.

  “Hey,” he says, and I can hear sleep in his voice. “Sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, looking at the clock. “It’s ten a.m. there.”

  “Yeah, I honestly am looking forward to not traveling for the next eight days,” he says. “What time is your flight?” he asks, and he doesn’t even ask if I’m coming o
r not.

  “Eleven,” I tell him. “The car is picking me up in fifteen minutes.”

  “Um,” he says, and he gets quiet. “Did you think about coming to see me?”

  “I did,” I tell him, and then my phone beeps, telling me that my driver is downstairs, but also, he is trying to FaceTime me.

  “Hey,” he says when his face finally fills the screen, and I know I should be walking out of my hotel room, but I just watch him.

  “Hey,” I answer him.

  “So?” he says, and I just watch him as he turns to his side in his bed.

  “I land at 4 p.m. your time,” I tell him. He shoots up in bed, his eyes big and his smile huge. The sleep now gone from his features.

  “You’re coming to Dallas?” he asks, his voice shrieking so much the dogs start barking and jumping in the bed.

  “I’m coming to Dallas,” I say to him. “But if I don’t leave right now, I might miss my flight.”

  “Text me all the details,” he says. “Why are you sitting down? Get up and get going.” I laugh when he says this and follow his lead. When I’m in the car, I text him all the details. He doesn’t call me before I take off nor do I see a text from him when I land either. I get out of my first class seat and grab my brown beige suede jacket and my black purse.

  I look down at my outfit and wonder if it is good enough, if it is sexy enough. My tight black pants fit like a glove, and I paired it with a loose white V-neck silk shirt and my black Louboutins. My hair is hanging down loose, and I walk out of the plane and follow the signs to my luggage. Walking through the airport, I turn right and finally get on the escalator going toward the exit and the luggage.

  Halfway down, I see him. He stands there wearing black jeans and a white T-shirt. His eyes watch the escalator, and I see them light up as soon as he sees me. My eyes lock on his, and when I finally make it to the bottom, I walk to him and see that he has flowers in his hand.

  “Welcome, my sweet Zara,” he says, holding the flowers out for me. I reach out and grab them, and he walks closer to me, so close I can smell him finally. I look up at him and wait for him to finally kiss me. My heart beating, my palms sweaty, my stomach making that little flip as the butterflies fly around. I look down at the flowers in my hand and then look up at him, and he comes close and kisses me softly on the cheek. “Beautiful, sweet Zara,” he whispers, and my heart sinks.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Evan

  I dump my bag at the door, and I don’t even bother turning on the lights as I put the dogs out and wait for them, shrugging off my jacket and beanie. The dogs come back to the door scratching, and I let them in and close up the house.

  I undress, leaving my clothes in a puddle at the end of my bed, and I literally moan when I slip between the sheets and sink my head on the pillow. Looking over at the clock, I see it’s almost four a.m.

  For another night, I go to bed with Zara on my mind. I go to bed asking myself if she is going to come to casino night. I go to bed actually missing her. This week with me traveling and her working on the West Coast has been a mess trying to connect, and I was beyond frustrated. I set my alarm to wake me at ten to call her and see what she is doing! Tomorrow I’m going to get the courage and the balls to ask her if she is coming.

  When her face fills the screen, it always takes my breath away. Always. When she told me her flight was soon, I finally asked her the question I’ve wanted to ask her all week, yet didn’t because I didn’t want her to think I was pressuring her. When she told me she was coming to Dallas and landing at four, I about lost my shit. I was so excited. I got out of bed right away and started making all the plans.

  I went into the guest bedroom and made sure everything was okay for her. Even though I wasn’t sure if she was staying here, I wanted it to be perfect. The last person to stay in this room was my mother two months ago. The big king-size bed sits in the middle of the room with a beige headboard. The white duvet fluffed up with six pillows all lined up in two rows. The beige throw blanket at the end of the bed half rests on bench in front of the bed.

  The bed sits in front of the two windows that show the front of the lawn. I walk into the en suite bathroom and make sure there are clean towels. I’m so nervous.

  “Lilo, Stitch.” I call for them at three thirty when I’m just about to leave to go and get her. My heart hammers in my chest. “I’m going to pick up a friend,” I tell them, and they both sit in front of me with their tails wagging. “Wish me luck,” I tell them, grabbing the bouquet of roses I picked up earlier.

  I get in the car and make it there in record time. As I walk into the baggage area, my palms are almost dripping with sweat from my anxiousness. My heart beats so irrationally and fast, I’m surprised I’m not having a heart attack. I walk to the screen and see that her plane has just landed. I didn’t text her to tell her I was picking her up. I didn’t text her anything. I look around the baggage claim area and see maybe seven people lingering.

  Standing in front of the escalator, I wait anxiously for her. My leg starts to shake as I watch for any signs of her. My finger taps the stems of the roses I hold by my side. I spot her shoes before anything else, and slowly, like I’m unwrapping a beautiful gift wrapped present, she finally comes down. Her hair flows down loose, and I want nothing more than to bury my hands in it. I wonder if it feels as silky as it looks? I can’t help the smile that forms on my face. I can’t help the beating in my chest, and I can’t help that my mouth is dry.

  Our eyes lock, and no one else exists. The room could be on fire, and I would only have eyes for her. I walk slowly to the escalator, my eyes never leaving hers. When she finally walks off it and is in front of me, my heart that was pounding just a second ago is now beating perfectly. I hold out my hand with the long stem roses in them, and her eyes finally see them.

  “Welcome, my sweet Zara.” She smiles at me shyly and reaches for the roses, our fingers grazing each other, and it’s another shock to my heart. She looks down at the flowers and then up at me, and I’m suddenly so close to her I can smell her soft citrus smell. I can hear her breathing. Her eyes come back up to mine, and I want nothing more in my life than to kiss her.

  I get even closer to her, but I stop myself from kissing her. I stop myself because the only thing going through my mind is how I’d get lost in her kiss. So lost that I’d pick her up and leave without her luggage. Instead, I lean in, and I swear her breath hitches, and then I kiss her softly on the cheek.

  “Beautiful, sweet Zara,” I whisper to her, and I want to trail my nose along her cheek to her neck, but I stop myself. I look at her eyes again.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” I say, and she just laughs. “Let’s get your bag and get out of here,” I tell her, and she nods. We walk over to the carousel, and her bag is already out.

  “Is that yours?” I ask, pointing at the black Louis luggage with the bright orange priority sticker. She nods her head, and I walk up to it and roll it beside me.

  “Ready?” I ask, and she nods.

  We walk to the underground parking lot, and I lead her to my black BMW. I unlock the doors and load her luggage into the trunk. She stands next to me the whole time. I turn and look at her again, and I see her shiver. “Are you cold, sweet Zara?” I ask her, rubbing up and down her arms.

  “No,” she says softly, “not one bit.”

  I smile again. I seem to be always fucking smiling when it comes to her. I put my hand at the base of her back and hold out my hand for her to walk ahead of me. When we get to the passenger door, I open it and wait for her to get in before slamming it shut. When I get into the driver’s side, she is reaching in the back to put the flowers on the back seat. Her white silk shirt pulls across her chest, giving me a glimpse of the white satin bra she is wearing under it. My cock suddenly starts to wake up, and I take a full ten seconds to count before turning back around, and when I do, luckily, she’s sitting straight and putting on her seat belt.

  “So where are you ta
king me?” she asks me as I pull out of the parking spot.

  “I’d love to take you to my house and introduce you to Lilo and Stitch,” I tell her. She’s met them through FaceTime. “But if you aren’t comfortable, I get it.”

  “It’s fine,” she says, and I nod and make my way to my house. “Have you lived there long?” she asks me, looking out of the window.

  “It’s been a year, but with my contract up for renewal, I don’t know how long I’ll actually be living here.”

  She turns to look at me, leaning her back against the door. “Do you not think they will renew?”

  “Oh, they want me to sign the contract now,” I tell her something no one really knows except my agent and me, “but I’m not ready yet.”

  “I think you should hold out,” she says. “Wait and see how you finish the season.” I laugh at her. “For the reporters, you are the leading scorer in the league. You have a great plus minus thingamajig, and you are also high on the charts for minutes played.”

  “Thingamajig?” I repeat, and she rolls her eyes.

  “That is the best sports talk you will ever get,” she says, and I nod and continue to look out the window. When we finally make it to my house, I shut off the car and see her hand reach for her handle.

  “Don’t you dare,” I tell her and get out of the car, going to her side and opening her door. Then I open the back door so she can grab her purse and the flowers. I wait for her to finish and shut the door, then walk to the trunk and grab her bag. I wheel the bag beside me to the front door, and I already hear the barking. “They are just as excited as I am that you’re here,” I tell her, and she bumps her shoulder into me.

  “That is very smooth, Mr. Richards.” She laughs and holds her purse in one hand and the flowers in the other while I open the front door.

  “Sit,” I yell to the dogs, and they follow the command. Sitting side by side, they slap their tails against the floor when they see someone with me. I shield her in case they jump all over her, but they don’t move. When the door is closed behind her, I leave her and go to the dogs, grabbing them by their collar. “This is Lilo,” I say, rubbing her head, “and this is Stitch.”