Love Proof (Laws of Attraction)

Eleven

Sarah sat up and ate toast and tea in bed while Joe had coffee, eggs, and a bagel at the desk in Sarah’s room. At the same time, he worked on his laptop and made a few phone calls.

“I don’t know,” she heard him say to whomever he was talking to. “At least another day, maybe two.”

He listened, then said, “I can’t talk about that right now. I’ll send you an e-mail.”

“What did you tell people?” Sarah asked when he hung up. “About why you’re still here?”

“I said I wanted to get in some skiing.”

“You don’t ski, do you?”

“No.” Joe dialed his phone and asked for a lawyer whose name Sarah recognized. She took another sip of tea, then leaned back against her pillow and closed her eyes.

“You’re going to have to talk to Luke about that,” Joe said to the person on the phone. “He’s taken over all my cases for a while. I’m on the road now.”

Sarah opened her increasingly-heavy eyes and peeked over at Burke. He was hunched over the desk now, elbow resting on the surface, his forehead leaning against his hand. “Yeah, well, there’s a lot going on,” he told the person. “I can’t talk about it right now. Call Luke. He’ll get you what you need.”

He set his phone down and stared glumly at it. When he looked over at Sarah again, she gave him a small smile.

“Purgatory?” she asked.

Joe nodded.

“Feel like sharing?”

“Not really. How was breakfast?”

Sarah laid her hand on her stomach. “It’s staying down, so that’s good. But I think I need another nap.”

“Do you mind if I work in here?”

“No.” In fact, Sarah was surprised by how much she wanted that. She liked hearing his voice in the background. She liked feeling him close by.

Which should have been reason enough to tell him to leave. But she wasn’t feeling up to that.

Sarah slid back down to horizontal and closed her eyes. But then she turned to her side again and looked over at Joe.

“Are they trying to push you out?” she asked. “At your firm?”

“Yes.”

“So why don’t you quit? I’m sure someone like you could find a job right away.”

As opposed to someone like me, Sarah thought, with the stain of the FBI raid and all the partner indictments following her everywhere on her résumé.

“I will,” he said, “eventually.”

“But why would you keep doing this?” Sarah asked him. “I can understand me, but not you—”

Joe’s phone rang. He looked at the screen and answered the call. “Joe Burke. Yeah, thanks for getting back to me, Todd. I heard Judge Lewis issued an order, and I wanted to let you know that Luke Tanner is handling that for me now . . . ”

Sarah’s eyes drifted closed again while Joe’s familiar voice carried on in the background. One of the last things she thought before giving in to the tired was that she missed this—missed him, missed having him around.

It wasn’t your choice, she reminded herself. You could have gone on like that forever.

He’s the one who broke your heart.

But it was getting harder and harder for her to stay angry about it.

Now all she felt was the loss.

***

When she woke again, Joe was gone. He left the drapes closed and all the lights off, so once again she wasn’t sure of the time. The clock said 12:42, and she guessed it must be afternoon, since she couldn’t imagine sleeping sixteen hours straight. Still, it was worth checking.

Sarah climbed out of bed, testing her legs. They felt better, less shaky. Her stomach felt better, too, and in fact growled a little with hunger. Sarah pulled back the heavy drapes and let the light shine in. The sky was a brilliant blue, and looked particularly beautiful against the snowy white peaks of the mountains.

This place really was stunning, Sarah thought. She would have loved to stand outside and breathe in some of the fresh air. But the only clothes she had were her suit, which may or may not have survived the vomit, and the workout capris and T-shirt she brought along. She had packed pajamas, too, one of her nice satin sets she bought during the period of Flourish, but none of those clothes in combination gave her an outfit she could wear outside. Maybe she could use the hotel robe as a coat.

But Joe had already thought of that.

Resting on the low table in front of the couch was a bag. And inside were a sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, both with “Utah” written across them. He also bought her a pair of fuzzy socks, the kind with little plastic circles dotting the bottom to keep the socks from slipping on the floor.

Sarah sank onto the couch and examined the loot. Why was he being so nice to her?

She had the chance to ask him when he returned within the hour carrying two sacks of food: a burger and fries for him, hot oatmeal and a banana for her. He also handed her a cup of tea.

“Burke, what is this?” she said. “The clothes, the food, the knight in shining armor . . . ”

“Just doing my duty,” he said.

“What duty?” she asked, almost afraid of his answer.

“Taking care of opposing counsel. I think it’s somewhere in the rules.”

“Right,” Sarah said, but she didn’t press him any further.

She opened the lid on the Starbucks oatmeal and shook out the brown sugar packet on top. She left the nuts and dried fruit alone—she thought they might be too rough on her recovering stomach.

Joe sat on the couch and laid his own feast out on the table. Then he started scrolling through his phone.

“Thanks for the clothes,” Sarah said. She had noticed Joe’s the minute he walked in. He wore jeans—button-down Levi’s—which was unfortunate. Because she always thought he looked particularly great in jeans—the way they hugged his backside just perfectly. For some reason they always made him look especially masculine. Or maybe it was just because he’d been wearing them the night she always thought of as the beginning of everything between them.

Along with his jeans this time he wore a fleece pullover on top, charcoal gray over a white T-shirt. And sturdy sneakers that might have qualified as hiking boots. It was a good look, overall, Sarah thought. It made him look strong and tall and outdoorsy. Like a man who had just come in from chopping wood.

“You really need to start packing for the weather,” Joe told her. “It’s going to get colder the next few months where we’re going, not warmer. You should always have something as backup.”

“Thanks for the advice,” she answered dryly. But she bit back anything more in favor of eating the soothing food he’d brought her.

“Something else,” Joe said, getting up. He went to Sarah’s bag resting on the luggage cart. She realized he must have gone through there to know she hadn’t packed anything warm. But before she could complain about that, Joe reached into her bag and pulled something out.

“What are you doing with this?”

Sarah’s face heated up. And not with fever this time.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Sarah, are you crazy?”

She stared at the hair iron in Joe’s hand. Not only was it an Atheena, it was the exact make and model that had lit all those women’s hair on fire.

“I know you’re not stupid,” Joe said, “so why are you being so stupid?”

“I believe in the product.”

“Cut the crap,” Joe said. “Have you not been listening to every one of my clients? This thing is dangerous, Sarah. I should have thrown it out when I found it.”

“Don’t you dare,” Sarah said, getting out of bed and grabbing it away from him. “I know what you think, but this is the best product I’ve ever had. You wouldn’t understand—you’ve never had to deal with hair like mine.”

He looked at her frizzy mop. “I like it the way it is—right now. Why do you have to do anything to it?”

“Right,” Sarah said, shoving the hair iron back into her bag. “What do you have to do to your hair, Joe? Run a bar of soap over it and you’re done? You wouldn’t understand.”

“You called me Joe.”

“It was an accident.”

“Sarah, please don’t use that thing anymore. You may hate your hair the way it is right now, but it’s a hell of a lot better than burning it all off.”

“That’s not going to happen to me.”

“How do you know?” he asked.

“Because I have a theory. And it’s none of your business. Counsel.”

It was true, she did have a theory, and it wasn’t one she was ready to share with him or even her new boss yet. She knew she might be grasping for an answer, simply because she couldn’t bear giving up something that really had proven to be a miracle for her hair. But if she was right, it could mean a dramatic shift in the case.

Sarah scooped up the plastic bag that held the sweatshirt and sweatpants. “But thank you,” she said. “For these. I can finally get out of my robe.”

“What do you wear to bed?” Joe asked.

“Excuse me?”

“I was looking for some warm flannel pajamas or something. You looked like you were freezing last night.”

Sarah paused on her way to the bathroom and pulled out the satin pants and camisole she would have worn to bed if she’d been lucid the night before.

“Oh, I thought those were . . . never mind,” Joe said, shoveling in a few more fries. He waved for Sarah to continue on to the bathroom.

“Thought they were what?” she asked.

“You never used to sleep in anything like that.”

“I couldn’t afford it,” she said.

“You didn’t sleep in much at all,” he said, making sure to look her in the eye.

“Ancient history, Burke.” She stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Then stayed where she was for a moment, leaning against the wood, eyes closed as she tried to block out the image Joe had just planted in her mind.

He didn’t sleep in anything, either. And it had been cold then, too.

But neither of them had seemed to mind.