Read Online Crazy Thing Called Love by Molly O'Keefe - Free Book Online Page A

crazy. Like her suspicions and worries were insane.
    She stared at him, her reasons so obvious a child could see them. Or even a man as rock-headed as Billy.
    “That’s what I figured,” he finally whispered.
    “So you can imagine why I’m concerned about you doing this show.”
    “You think I’m planning to go on air and tell everyone your real name? Imagine the scandal.”
    “None of this is funny, Billy. I have no idea what you’re planning. That’s why I’m here.”
    “Well,” he rubbed his chin, the sound of his hand over the scruff of his beard loud in the quiet house. “I don’t know if you saw my last game …” He paused as if waiting for her commentary. She used to do that, years ago, help him analyze his game, find the places where he could improve. Hockey had been something they shared … before it tore them apart.
    “I haven’t seen a single minute of hockey since our divorce.”
    “Really?” Why he sounded sad was beyond her. “You used to love it.”
    No, asshole
, she thought.
I used to love you
.
    She slammed her bag down on the table.
    “Cut the crap, Billy. This isn’t about your image, or that fight—”
    “You did see it.” Only he would sound proud. She ignored him.
    “You’re coming onto my show, ready to debase yourself, willingly. The Billy I knew would never do that. Why,” she enunciated each word, “are you doing the show?”
    For a long moment his fingers pulled at the edge of his beer label.
    “Because I wanted to see you. Because after seeing you at that spa thing, I … I missed you.”
    Oh. Unable to look at him, she turned away, wanting to leave. Desperately wanting to get out of there. She’d expected this, but not really. Not with that naked honesty in his eyes.
    “You don’t get to miss me,” she told the stainless steel fridge. “You don’t have that right.”
    “I know.” He took another sip of beer, somehow forlorn and resigned. “Believe me, I know.”
    She grabbed her purse, clutched it, a life raft in turbulent seas. “You miss having someone who makes your dinner, keeps your stats, rubs your shoulders after a loss. You don’t … you don’t miss me.”
    “No?”
    “You don’t even know me. You barely knew me when we were married.”
    “How can you say that? We grew up together! You were my best friend, and I’m pretty damn sure I was yours.”
    “Oh please, Billy. Our whole marriage was about you. About hockey. Your career.” Distantly, she realized she was falling right back into her role with him. The nagging wife. Shrewish and hurt.
    “That’s not how I remember it.”
    She stared at him until she crushed that twinkle in his eyes. Until nothing remained but the hard rock and grit of the past. Of who they’d been to each other. And what they’d done.
    Rising from the table like some kind of gladiator, he braced his hands on it, the outrageous musculature of his chest flexing, the veins and sinew standing out in relief. She was suddenly breathless with anger and
want
.
    “I didn’t cheat. Ever. From the homecoming dance until I signed the divorce papers, I didn’t cheat.”
    She’d had fourteen years to pull herself back from the wild ledge of emotions their marriage had put her on. Now she was able to be calm. “I know. But that wasn’t the point, was it?”
    “That night … the hotel room.”
    She held up her hand. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”
    “You think I do?”
    “Then why are we doing it?”
    “Because it’s here!” He pointed at the table as if that night was sitting between them on its mahogany surface, that girl in the bright pink dress and all that heartbreak, right there. He pointed to his head. “It’s in here. And it’s been killing me for a lot of years.”
    “I had told you I was leaving. The night before, I told you I didn’t want to be married, that it was over.” The things she’d said echoed through the years; she still felt bad. “I don’t know what I