Love Proof (Laws of Attraction)

Thirty-seven

Sarah found an earlier flight, and she took it. She wanted to get away from Portland as soon as possible. She had no idea what Joe was thinking or doing, but she knew they would find each other eventually.

She needed time on her own first.

She checked into her hotel, found her room, and immediately undressed and stepped into a hot shower. She needed to wash the day away. Stand there in the steam and accept the emotional earthquake she had been holding off for the last several hours.

Sarah tried not to allow herself to cry too often. It never felt as cleansing as people said it would. In fact, it made her feel weaker, more vulnerable, more open to attack. It had nothing to do with anyone seeing her that way. It had everything to do with feeling herself lose control.

When Joe left her that December six years ago, when he wouldn’t return her phone calls or talk to her about what had happened with his mother, when she watched him deliberately take up with woman after woman without any explanation of what went wrong, Sarah fell apart in a way she never had in her entire life.

She cried then—plenty. She felt raw, turned inside out, unable to think in logical, rational ways anymore about what she should do next, how she should behave, whether she should study for this class or that one, whether she should confront Joe or leave him alone and keep hoping one day he would explain.

If she had clung to that last hope, she knew now she would have waited a long time. In fact, she might never have learned the truth if she never had this case against Joe. She would have gone on with her life just as before, hating him, resenting him, wishing she had never fallen in love with him in the first place. It left a wound that never quite healed. And made her never want to put herself in that position again.

So there had been other lovers after him, but not love. She always stopped herself short. And the men she was with didn’t seem to mind. Maybe, Sarah thought now, it was because she chose them so carefully: men just like Ryan Sollers, with a certain charm and confidence, but whose primary interests lay in advancing their own careers. Men who wouldn’t hesitate to take care of themselves first in any situation, and Sarah second, if it was convenient.

Sarah always told herself she felt the same way. She had worked hard all her life to get where she was, and even after April 6 she knew she would keep fighting hard to keep it. Her law degree wasn’t just a piece of paper in a frame. It meant as much to her as the first paycheck she ever earned as a secretary at the insurance agency. As much as the first commission she earned as the youngest insurance agent in her region. Her mother and father had brought her up to believe that her own efforts could take her far. And Sarah still believed that.

But she also knew she had to take responsibility for her own mistakes. No matter how much better it would feel to blame them on someone else.

And who were the contenders for blame here, anyway? she thought. Not Joe. She was glad he’d made a project out of her, glad he came up with a strategy of treating her well and trying to win her back. She didn’t regret a single aspect of their short time together, except maybe how long it had taken them both to find each other again.

Ryan Sollers? Maybe she could blame him for taking such obvious pleasure in laying out every new piece of evidence against them in that slow, methodical style. But another part of her—the lawyer part—had to admire how he’d gone about it. She had to make sure the team at Mickey’s office understood that Chapman’s replacement was not to be underestimated.

But not yet. There was a time for work, and a time for grieving. And Sarah felt she had earned herself a few minutes of grief. She turned her face into the water and let the hot tears stream down her cheeks.

Nobody to blame but yourself. Nobody to blame but yourself. The refrain continued ping-ponging in her brain until finally she had to accept that her few moments of peaceful self-pity were over.

It had been the same after April 6. She wanted to hide in a hole. Live in the darkness, never come out again.

But Angie had badgered her so hard, in texts and phone messages, Sarah finally dragged herself back for a workout just to make the relentless woman leave her alone.

She had gone in that morning sullen and weak and broken, and emerged an hour and a half later—after running and lifting and kicking and sweating—a different person. One who had reclaimed her clear, logical mind.

No, she’d acknowledged back then, none of what happened was fair. She hadn’t done anything to bring it on herself. But it didn’t change the fact that this was her life now, reality wasn’t going away, and so she had better pull herself up and figure out what to do.

And that was why, Sarah realized now as she climbed out of the shower and toweled off, Nobody to blame but yourself was actually a very powerful statement. It meant that she had created the situation herself, and now she could find some way to manage it herself, too. Maybe not fix it—not entirely—but at least do something besides curling up in a little ball and letting other people decide her fate.

She had already been considering her next move ever since she left the conference room that afternoon. But now she knew for certain.

Sarah pulled on a robe, set up her laptop on the desk, and prepared to do what had to be done.

***

Where are you? the text from Joe asked.

My hotel.

Want me to come get you?

Yes.

She thought about what Sollers had said about the Bar wanting to see any texts or e-mails between Sarah and Joe. Hardly anything is secret anymore, boys and girls. But she didn’t think a few more would matter. The damage was already done.

Joe texted her again from the parking lot. Sarah wondered if she would see Sollers on her way through the lobby, but she really didn’t care anymore. She found Joe’s car, opened the door and slid onto the seat, then leaned over and cupped her hand behind his neck and gave him a long, lingering kiss.

Joe seemed surprised.

“You’re all right?” he asked once she let him go.

“I’m fine,” Sarah said. “Except I’m starving. Come on, let’s find something to eat.”

He still wore his suit, whereas Sarah had changed into the jersey pants and hoodie she wore to the airport the night before. She had also straightened her hair again after the shower, treating the process like a meditation as she reflected on the e-mail she composed.

Her finger had hesitated just a little too long, she thought, before finally hitting Send. But once the message was gone, she could relax. And wait for the storm to brew.

“So,” Joe said as he drove away from the hotel, “almost makes you miss Paul, doesn’t it?”

“Let’s not talk about it yet,” Sarah said. “I want to have a nice dinner with you. We can talk later.”

She reached out for his hand, and he lifted hers to his lips and kissed it. “I just want you to know it’s going to be all right,” Joe said.

“I know. But feed me first.”

They found a decent-looking Italian restaurant not far from the hotel. As the two of them walked to the entrance, their hands intertwined, Sarah said, “I think this might count as a date.”

Joe paused to take her into his arms. He kissed her with a kind of possessiveness no one would mistake as appropriate for a first date. Sarah laughed when he let her go. “Pace yourself,” she said.

“Why are you in such a good mood?” he asked.

“Because you’re here, and I’m with you, and we’re actually out in public together for once.”

“We were in public on your birthday,” Joe pointed out.

“Not for very long.”

The hostess seated them at a table small enough that their knees touched underneath. Joe kept a hold on Sarah’s hand. It was sweet, she thought, just being out with him like this. And exactly the kind of thing she needed after the rough day they’d had.

Although the way he was stroking his thumb across her knuckles reminded her that being alone with him in his hotel room, eating room service or takeout, also would have had its merits. Sarah’s eyes met his, and from the subtle way his mouth curved up, she could tell he’d been thinking the same thing.

“You’re buying me dinner first, Burke.”

His chuckle was low and suggestive. “Who said I wasn’t?”

She reached over and stroked the dark stubble on his cheek. “You look tired.” He covered her hand with his and brought her palm to her lips. Sarah smiled at the seductive feel of his kiss against her sensitive flesh.

Hardly anything is secret, boys and girls. She had quick flash of how they might look if someone took a picture of them just then. But she managed to shake it off. It doesn’t matter, she reminded herself. It’s over.

When the food arrived, Sarah attacked hers like a wrestler. She remembered feeling this hungry after her first week of training with Angie. Her body seemed to realize that Sarah was about to put more and more demands on it, and for the next several weeks her stomach felt like a bottomless pit. She could eat every two to three hours without ever feeling full.

Maybe her body understood what was happening now, Sarah thought. It knew it needed its strength because it was about to go to war.

“You about done?” Sarah asked once she’d eaten every morsel of her spaghetti in marinara.

Joe leaned back and surveyed what was left on his plate. “Are you making me a better offer?”

“Only one way to find out,” Sarah said.

As they walked out to his car, Joe’s arm around her waist, Sarah couldn’t help wondering how long their happy, romantic mood would last. She guessed it would evaporate within the next half hour. But she didn’t regret what she had done. Wished she didn’t have to do it, yes. But regret how she’d handled it, no.

She just hoped that Joe would see it that way.