The Crazy One Page 13

  Now it was New Year's Eve and I was sitting in his kitchen freshly showered with nothing to wear to a formal party. I felt like I should remind him of the fact because he must have forgotten. Then the buzzer rang. It was the concierge announcing someone with a unique name. When he turned to me, Joel's face showed his excitement.

  A few minutes later Joel opened the door for a flamboyant man and a woman pulling a rack of dresses. They were both dressed in a way that told me they believed they were the height of fashion. He was overly tanned, and her arms were so thin I thought I might break one when she shook my hand.

  Sa'Jay and Mindii were apparently professional shoppers for the very wealthy. I'd heard of personal shoppers, but I'd never been quite sure of what they did. It appeared what they did was buy a bunch of dresses based on Joel's description of me and then make me try on all of them to see which ones I would keep. So, for the next hour I put on these heavy and obscenely expensive gowns and paraded through Joel's living room to see which one the four of us liked best.

  Eventually, I chose a short, black, kimono-style dress with gold sequins on the hem. Sa'Jay and Mindii selected jewelry to match and a pair of black pumps that made me nervous for the safety of my ankles. I learned, though, that the jewelry and shoes were not mine to keep. They were on loan and needed to be returned in pristine condition. No pressure.

  Later in the day, a woman showed up with two black cases. She was there to do my hair and makeup. Joel was putting his coat on to leave when she started massaging some cream into my scalp.

  "You're not going to endure this with me?" I asked him.

  "I have some errands," he replied. He started to lean down to me, and I thought he was going to kiss my cheek. Then he stopped, as if remembering we were just friends, and stood straight again. The truth was, we'd been having such a good time being together in his apartment all day we'd both forgotten we weren't still together.

  "You didn't have to do all of this for me, Joel. But I appreciate it."

  "Lucy, you deserve to be spoiled." With that, he turned and rushed out of the apartment.

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  Joel and I arrived at the party in a black limousine. He wasn't a limo kind of guy, but the night wouldn't have been complete without it. We waited our turn in line behind a half dozen other cars like ours. When it was our turn, the driver pulled up and my door was opened. I was helped out of the car like Cinderella out of the carriage. Most of my concentration was dedicated to not falling off of my four and a half inch heels. Joel held my elbow and whispered into my ear that I looked stunning. I smiled because I believed it was true.

  The party was littered with famous people. I couldn't turn around without seeing someone I recognized. We were on the top floor in a hall that seemed to be completely enclosed in glass. Outside, the lights of Manhattan sparkled like a million stars. Blue lights illuminated the glass ceiling where a net full of balloons waited to be dropped at midnight.

  Joel slipped his arm around my waist and guided me through the crowd. He introduced me to various celebrities, telling me their names without needing to. I was repeatedly star-struck, but did my best to keep my composure.

  We ate four courses at a round table with a late-night talk show host, a composer, and their wives. I mostly smiled and nodded, afraid whatever might come out of my mouth would sound either ignorant or lame. So far these celebrities in my midst hadn't a clue I wasn't one of their kind.

  After dinner a band took the stage and the music picked up. People danced. Joel put his hand out for me. I obliged him as a friend and we managed to cut a rug without looking too silly. But the next song was a ballad. We could have left the dance floor, but Joel didn't budge. When we were dancing slow and close, I wanted more. I wished there was some way we could work things out. I still wasn't ready to move to a giant city to be with someone I felt I hardly knew.

  As we swayed, our bodies drew closer together like gravity was pulling me to him. He smiled down at me but didn't say a word. Maybe it was the wine, but I felt like I was falling and I needed him to catch me. His hand was firm on the small of my back. It seemed to hold me to him.

  "I need some air," I whispered and stepped away from him.

  Joel turned away with my hand still in his. He led me through the crowd to a glass door. Soon we were out on the balcony, like we'd been at the party the first time I was in New York. This made me dizzy, so I stayed close to the window, fearing I might fall over the railing to my death. I put my hand to my head to stop it from spinning.

  "Are you okay?" Joel put his arm on my shoulder. I nodded.

  "It's the wine," I said. Then I laughed. "Maybe two glasses was enough."

  "Do you want me to take you home?" His face showed genuine concern.

  Home. Take me to his home? To my home? Would he take me all the way back to Omaha where I could be alone and forget the magical spell the city and the holiday had me under? Could he reverse my decision to accompany him to this fancy soiree with the ridiculous notion we could be just friends? Because while he seemed to be doing a great job of maintaining our platonic relationship, I was failing miserably.

  "No." I composed myself, turned to him, and bumped his shoulder with my fist. "It's all good, buddy."

  He smirked like I was being funny but he wasn't enjoying the joke. His gaze lingered and I couldn't figure out the expression on his face. He put his hands in his pockets and turned toward the balcony.

  "Do you hate New York?" he asked with his back to me.

  "No." I was confused. I'd never said a bad thing about the city. What was he getting at?

  "You can't imagine yourself living here?"

  "Sure, if I could afford it. But I don't have the experience to get a job where I could make enough to get by. And it's busy here all the time. I don't know how long I could handle the constant stream of people." I kept on talking. For some reason I felt like I needed to. It seemed Joel had something heavy on his mind, something I didn't want to know, and if I kept talking I wouldn't have to.

  When I finally ran out of steam, Joel turned around to face me. He tapped his wrist where a watch would be if he owned one. Then he held the door and motioned for me to step inside.

  The dance floor was still full. The room was buzzing with music and laughter. Joel walked ahead of me toward our table. Before we could get there, we were met by a server bearing a tray of champagne glasses. She reminded us there were only three minutes until the New Year. Joel took two glasses, handed one to me, and gave me a wink.

  "Any wishes for the new year?" he asked me. He had to shout over the excitement of the party crowd.

  "Maybe," I answered coyly. "I think I'm not supposed to tell my wish."

  "Isn't that for fountains and candles? I don't think that applies here."

  We both laughed awkwardly and clinked our glasses. Practically everyone in the room was standing now and waiting for the countdown to start. A giant display on the wall showed midnight was less than a minute away.

  "What do you wish for?" I shouted. He smiled broadly and put his free hand on my back. When he pulled me to him I nearly spilled my champagne.

  "A midnight kiss," he answered. The crowd was now counting down from ten in unison. As their merriment swelled, my stomach fluttered. Joel looked down at me with such intensity my knees nearly buckled. Then the clock hit zero, the crowd shouted, and Joel pressed his lips to mine with more passion than "just friends". My hands went to the nape of his neck where I gently held onto his hair to keep us from falling apart. Balloons fell onto our heads and all around us, but we stayed locked in that kiss with the world screeching around us. It was a new year. My wish had come true. But did I really want it? I wanted it in the moment, but would I want it in a day?

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  January 1, 2016

  Lucy awoke on the first of January alone in her own studio apartment. There had been no great New Year celebration, no four-course dinner, no marvelous kiss from Joel Ruskin at midnight. The
y hadn't rushed back to his apartment and made passionate and desperate love in the first hours of the New Year. She'd spent the evening drinking a bottle of sparkling wine, watching Dick Clark's Rockin' Eve and eating a pint of ice cream in solitude.

  Her hangover was real, but her fantasy lingered in her mind. She imagined waking in Joel’s bed. He was still sleeping when she tried to get up. But the pain in her head knocked her back down. Her stomach turned over and threatened to spew its contents onto his satiny down comforter.

  Joel rolled onto his back. He squinted to look at her and smiled. A happy moan escaped his throat when he reached for her half-naked body. She dropped her head back onto her own pillow and reached for the extra one on the bed. She pretended it was him and cuddled against it.

  "I want to die," she mumbled into the pillow. He laughed. Then he got out of bed, stumbled briefly, and headed for the kitchen in his boxer shorts.

  She got out of her own bed and crossed the studio apartment to the kitchenette. Luckily, there was plenty of fruit in the bowl on the counter. She took the blender out from the bottom cabinet.

  When she added the ingredients and turned on the machine, it was Joel’s hands she saw. He poured the pink liquid into two glasses and handed one to her.

  "Hangover cure," he announced. "Antioxidants are key."

  "What is it?" She held the glass cautiously. The other one sat half full on the counter.

  "Bananas, strawberries, pineapple juice, carrots, and some other stuff."

  She raised her eyebrows at him. Her stomach turned again, but she tasted the smoothie anyway. It actually wasn’t that bad. She drank it all and soon after began to feel much better. Her stomach still ached, but at least she could see straight.

  Joel led her back to the bed where they sat quietly drinking the miracle hangover cure. They gazed out the huge windows of Joel’s apartment watching the snow fall on New York City.

  It was a beautiful scene; one she wished she could wake up to every day. Then she scolded herself for thinking that way. Their drunken night had no meaning. Waking up this way was the result of something that shouldn’t have happened in the first place. Although, in her heart she held on to the tiniest shred of hope.

  She was elated to have Joel back in her life. She had missed his company inside her head. She wanted to see his face again for real. So she pulled out her laptop and typed his name into her search engine. What showed up was exactly what she had been waiting for.

  Joel Ruskin Buys Home in Spring Fork

  The article was from the Spring Fork, Colorado Chamber of Commerce website. The exact location of the home wasn't mentioned but, just as Joel had said, he had purchased a farmhouse and a few acres on the edge of town for only $300,000.

  She browsed the town's website and links to local businesses. It was a tiny town in the mountains. There was a quaint main street lined with shops. She pulled up the Earth map and dropped herself into the street view to "walk around". Unfortunately, the street view didn't go far beyond the main row. She could see nice, large houses behind the shops, but she wasn't able to turn down those streets.

  The town, although friendly to tourists who happened to pass through, appeared to be guarded from the outside world. Visitors were welcome to stop by for the day, but the little village didn't even have a motel. This was a problem for her, as she would have to find an alternative living arrangement to be close to him.

  By lunchtime I was feeling a hundred percent better, so we headed down the street to the deli for lunch. The snow had stopped, and the sun was shining. We both walked with our hands in our pockets, not knowing how to act. We were supposed to be just friends. But it clearly hadn't worked out. Now I was unsure of what was going on. I was still convinced we couldn't make a relationship work. So, were we friends with benefits? Was I letting Joel take advantage of me? Did he think I was taking advantage of him?

  When we returned from lunch, I couldn't take the tension anymore. I had to be on a plane back to Omaha in a few hours, and I needed to know first where we stood.

  "Was last night a mistake?" I blurted.

  Joel, who was sitting on the couch, stared at me for a long moment. Then he patted the seat next to him. I hesitated, but then sat by his side.

  "Last night was the best night out I've had in a long time." He took my hands. "It had nothing to do with the fancy party or the drinks," he paused for a minute and tilted his head to catch my eyes. "It wasn't even the sex." He grinned. I blushed. "It was you. I enjoyed being with you. We could have been in a dive bar somewhere or sitting at home in sweat pants. I would have loved being with you no matter what." He pulled my hands to his heart, forcing me to look him straight in the eyes. "I miss you, Lucy, when you're not here. I love being with you." He kissed my hand. He gazed hopefully into my eyes. "I love you, Lucy."

  My heart must have stopped because my body seemed to be frozen for an instant. He'd never said this to me before. He'd never even let on he felt this strongly about us together. I let him kiss me. Then I pulled away and dropped my gaze to my hands.

  "I miss you, too." I thought for a minute. I was opening a door that I wouldn't be able to close again. "And I love you. But it doesn't change the way I feel about us. Dating you is hard. You're always working, and I'm alone. I don't want to be alone."

  "Then marry me."

  I looked at him to see if he was joking. His face was serious. He stared intently at me, unblinking, waiting for me to reply.

  "What?" The word barely escaped my lips.

  "I'm not kidding. Marry me, Lucy, and then neither of us has to be alone. I bought a house in this little Colorado town in the mountains. Whenever we get tired of New York we can hide away from everybody there. And you can come with me when I'm working. We won’t have to do this long-distance thing anymore. I love you. I'm tired of missing you."

  "I don't know." A million thoughts were racing through my mind. I loved him, but did I love him for real, or because he was new and we had a good time together? Would I love him a year from now? Would I hate his crazy, jet-setting life? Would I feel trapped in this apartment in this overcrowded city or lost in that hideaway mountain town? He was a good guy. We had plenty of things in common. Hadn't I spent all these years searching for someone like him? Now he was handing me the very thing I'd been hoping for. How could I turn him down?

  "We haven't known each other long," I said, already knowing what my answer would be. "Don't you think we'd be rushing it? What would people say?"

  "Do I ever care what people say?"

  "A little bit."

  "Not about this. This is my own life, not some staged show. We haven't known each other long, but it doesn't make any difference to me. There are people I've known for years who don't make me feel the way I feel when I'm with you."

  I searched his face, still afraid it all might be an elaborate joke, that at some point he would shout, "Gotcha!" Instead, he got down onto one knee in front of me and took both of my hands in his.

  "Lucy Bonneville," he began, "will you be my wife?"

  When I said that I would, he nearly tackled me. His kiss was filled with happiness. In that moment I truly believed we would be happy together.

  Naturally, I missed my flight back home. We went out to celebrate our currently secret engagement. He chose an exclusive and outrageously expensive restaurant where everyone greeted him by name. The chef, famous in New York and probably the world, came to our table himself to ensure his creations were being enjoyed. We drank champagne again. Joel rarely took his eyes off of me. He was beaming. I'd truly never seen him this happy.

  "Let's get married on Valentine's Day," he suggested.

  "That's a month away." I was stunned. I'd expected a full year to plan something like I'd always envisioned. "I can't plan a wedding in a month." It also didn't give me much time to reconsider this crazy life decision I'd made at the tail end of a hangover.

  "It doesn't need to be big. We just need our family for the ceremony. We'll do it in Vegas or
on the beach. Whatever you want."

  "Why does it have to be so fast? Can't we take our time?"

  "It's just," he shook his head. "It's just that I don't want it to be a big media thing. I don't want E! News to cover it. I don't want paparazzi buzzing around for months trying to get the scoop. I want this to be just for us, and I'm afraid the more we stretch it out, the crazier it will become."

  I had to admit I liked the romantic implications of running off to get married without letting the world know. The thought of having photographers crash our wedding or ambush me on the street was frightening. Joel's logic won me over. We were going to be married in Las Vegas on Valentine's Day in the presence of our family. I was going to be Mrs. Joel Ruskin, New York resident.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  Present

  A simple scan of Lucy’s Facebook profile had turned up an interesting lead for Elijah. Fortunately, he didn’t have to leave the fair city of Omaha, where he’d already spent three full weeks of his life, to interview the woman he had discovered. He only needed to dial her up on Skype.

  When Belinda answered the video chat she looked exactly like her profile picture. She had a round, grumpy face framed by thinning hair of an undeterminable color.

  Elijah assumed her unpleasant demeanor was due to the subject of his call. It was understandable that a self-proclaimed superfan would be appalled by the actions of one of their own who stepped over the line.

  Hopefully she would cooperate, because he was running out of time and options. And the aforementioned stalker hadn’t given him anything useful as of yet.

  "Hello, Belinda," he said with as much forced enthusiasm as he could muster.

  "Hello, Mr. Rhee." Her tone was pleasant and did not match the expression on her face.