THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,118

for months—six months? I never saw her at the funeral. Not that I would have acknowledged her anyway.

I look at Steve and he angrily raises his glass in my direction. No fucking help from him.

Swaying on my feet, I walk to the front door and open it just enough to see her without exposing the contents of my house. Windsor and her scared blue eyes focus on my face. She looks so damn beautiful that I catch my breath. My memory of her faded over time, and it didn’t serve her right. She is the most gorgeous person I’ll ever see. Inside and out. I know it. Which is why I have to let her go.

“Hi,” she says, her gaze traveling down my chest and back up to my face. She’s seeing the miserable exterior of a deconstructed man. I’m hideous.

I can’t bring myself to do it. Not yet. I want to pretend for a second that she’s still mine. Before everything in my life was taken away. “Hey,” I reply, trying and failing to smile. A tiny half smile lights her face a second before a small bark pierces the air. I look to her car.

“Goose is pretty upset I didn’t bring him,” she explains, looking over to her car with an adoring face. She loves the dog. I take a deep breath. The life I could have had is right in front of me and I can’t take it. “How are you Maverick?” she asks. She knows I’m not good. She’s just going through the pleasantries I’d expect from a stranger.

I lie. “I’m doing better. On the road to a full recovery,” I say, mispronouncing the last word in a slur. Fuck.

Her pursed lips raise in a fake smile as she nods, eyebrows raised. “Good. I’m so glad. I’ve been worried about you,” she says, her gaze darting behind my head. I close the door a little more, feeling sick about the scene behind me. What was I thinking? I wasn’t.

“Morganna said you wanted me to stop by. I’m not sure how much of her pleas is fact or fiction, but I’m here for you in you need a friend, Mav. I know you don’t want a relationship with me anymore,” she whispers, biting her lip. “Maybe a friendship would work out better? I’d like to try because…” her words trail off.

“Because why?” I ask, my heart hammering like a God damned drum in my ears. She shakes her head. My anger grows. Still, even in proposed friendship she can’t speak what’s in her heart or her mind. I can’t take it anymore. My hand, the one holding the door, shakes. I’m losing control. “Why?” I demand, louder this time.

“Because I freaking love you, Maverick! And I know words are just words, but I’m so sorry about everything and I love you. You don’t love me anymore and I understand that, but you have to be in my life. Maybe I can help you…or make you feel better. Be my friend,” Windsor says, her face red and bottom lip trembling.

I nod. She did it. She fucking finally did it.

Too little, too late. “Blow me,” I say, a sarcastic grin spreading across my face.

Her perfect bottom lip drops in shock. I take in a deep breath. This is it.

“Those were the only three fucking words I wanted to hear from you,” I slur, and it’s unfortunate because it’d be more poignant if I were sober. “And you say them now? That’s shit and you fucking know it. So, you want to make me feel better? Blow me, Windsor Forbes. Get down on your perfect knees and blow me.”

Her face crumples. I close my eyes and let my trembling hand open the door so it’s wide enough for her to see inside. She brings her delicate hand up to cover her mouth. That’s right—all these women in my house. In my world. You aren’t special, Windsor. You were never special. I stare at her, committing her pain to memory as punishment for all time. I have no doubt this will be the last time I see her. She shakes her head in disbelief as she surveys my living room full of women.

“Christ knows no one else holds a dick sucking candle to you,” I say. Her gaze flicks to mine. I see the moment she writes me off forever.

It’s odd. I like it. More punishment. Her hand still covering her mouth, a heavy tear drips from one eye. She walks