THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,42

for me to mess up so he can choose a good one for a hotel date.

“Who said anything about stripes? He does have some badass fucking tats though,” Stone says, smiling wide. My returning smile is weak, there is no happiness behind it. “If you tell him I said anything, I’ll deny it. You’re doing exactly what he thought you’d do, except he hasn’t bagged you yet,” Stone says, retreating down the hallway. My head swims for a second and my brain scrambles.

“He thinks I’ll leave him?” I ask, completely shocked. My stomach lurches. It’s normal for people to turn their backs on him. His own family did it. It makes perfect sense, but I don’t know if it changes how I feel.

Stone looks over his shoulder as he continues to walk away. “What the fuck are you doing right now?” It looks like I’m running, but really I’m just thinking. Sorting. I’m recalculating my liabilities.

I grab my suitcase and load it into the trunk blindly—not aware of anything except the new knowledge rolling around in my head. Everyone has a little bit of a messed up past. The challenges make you who you are, whether you end up good or bad is up to you. Maverick has a lot of good. And a lot of bad.

During the entire drive to Richmond, and while I unpack my suitcase in my hotel room, and while I eat breakfast, I think about Maverick and the things Stone told me. Guilt hits me square in the chest. The problem is I’m not sure if I feel bad for leaving him at the bar that night without so much as a goodbye, or if I feel bad for teenaged Maverick who left his home to begin a life no one approved of.

I’m dwelling somewhere in between self-loathing and pride when I hear a voice from my past. The voice. I feel like I may fall over. I have a cup of coffee in my hands. It shakes. I put it down on the table in front of me and turn around, trying to portray some semblance of confidence. I must be able to do at least that.

“Nash,” I say. Nashhole almost came out instead. The sight of him makes my heart pound. Silly thing has no idea, he’s the same one who crushed it to bits.

I glance over his shoulder and see Garrett smiling like the cat who caught the mouse. He did this. He scheduled us to attend this thing together. I shoot him a death glare. I knew he was pissed off for the missed date, but this is bad form. Though a meeting was bound to happen sooner or later.

“My, my, my, Winnie, time has been kind to you,” Nash says, checking me out, his eyes narrowed and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. I have to take a deep breath to steady myself.

“At least something has been kind to me. How’s your girlfriend?” I ask. I really know nothing about him these days. I’m also surprised my words flow so freely. Granted, I’ve wanted to talk to him face to face for a long time, but never had the courage.

An emotion flickers across his face. “We broke up,” he admits. That bitch must have broken his heart. I can’t even help it…I smile. I head to one of the conference tables and take a seat. Somehow I take solace in knowing Nash’s bimbo screwed him over. It makes it easier to be around him.

Karma. Maybe it does work after all.

He sits next to me. “What about you?”

I know he’s asking if I have a boyfriend, and I really don’t want to take on that question so I respond vaguely, “I’m good. I’m really good. Happy,” I say.

He scoots his chair closer. His proximity feels so comfortable, normal, but I’m also aware it’s not. It’s funny how the body reacts to familiarity. It’s been years, and I have no clue who this man is, but every fiber in my being wants him to engulf me in a hug and apologize for ruining everything. That’s the weak Windsor. I know that, but I can’t help feeling that way.

Maverick pops into my mind. His face, his kindness, the way my body responds to his. The pull to Maverick is different than the pull to Nash. I have the urge to call Maverick right now. I want to apologize for being so flighty.

“I miss you, Winnie. It’s been hard for me since Stacey