The Good Wife (16 page)

The last was a real concern. Because sober, Boone was pretty much a family man, but put a couple of drinks in him and he loosened up, becoming friendlier, more open. More open to advances.

And now he was going out again, hanging out with the guys, doing whatever it was macho guys did to chill out.

Strip clubs. Titty bars. Nightclubs.

“What if I got a sitter,” Sarah said, trying to suppress the wave of worry. He loved her. He did. He wasn’t going to hook up with anyone tonight. He wasn’t going out to meet up with someone he’d met last night. “You and I could go to Bern’s, have a great steak, maybe hit the Fox Jazz Café after.”

“Let’s do that when I come back from next week’s road trip. Tonight I’ve already made plans to hang with the guys.”

“But you’ll be with the guys all week on the road.”

“I know, but it’s Danny’s birthday, everyone’s going out.”

“Doesn’t Danny have a wife to celebrate with?”

“Sarah.”

She hated that he made her feel like she was being a ball and chain. She wasn’t a ball and chain. She was so supportive of him. Had given up her career and family to follow him. He and the kids were her priority. The focus of her life.

She exhaled slowly. “I just feel like I don’t get enough time with you.”

“It’s always like this during the season.”

“But you’ve been so down lately. It’s kind of hard to reach you.”

“I’m here.”

“But disconnected.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind, babe.”

She nodded. She got that. She did. But it didn’t make it any easier when Boone pulled away, retreating inside himself, distancing himself. It just made it even harder to feel safe. Loved.

“We never did do anything for your birthday,” she said.

“You gave me presents and cards,” he answered.

“But we were supposed to do something fun together. Something special.”

“We’ll do it when I’m back. Make reservations somewhere. Get tickets. Whatever you want to do. You and me, babe.”

“We’ll make it a joint Boone birthday and Mother’s Day treat,” she said.

He frowned, his brow furrowing and faint creases fanning from his eyes. “I’m gone for Mother’s Day again this year?”

She nodded, refusing to feel sad, or empty. She didn’t want to feel anything remotely sad. Sad wasn’t good. Sad lined up way too close to depression.

“Damn,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw.

She watched him, thinking she loved his square jaw and strong chin. Loved the way his cheekbones were set high and his forehead was broad. He was handsome. Handsome, tough, sexy, and hers.

Her man. Her gorgeous man.

And yet she shared him with a team owner, managers, coaches, and the twenty-four players on the roster.

As well as the fans.

“It’s all right, hon,” she said. “It’s part of the job. I know. And at least we have Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas with you home. You could be playing football or basketball and I’d be carving the turkey all by myself.”

He smiled reluctantly. “Funny.”

“Yeah,” she said, holding her smile, not letting him see how much she hurt just then, and how much she’d been hurting lately.

It wasn’t until he was out the door that her smile slipped.

Turning away from the door, she reached up to wipe her eyes. She wasn’t a crier. Didn’t like weeping about silly things. But good God, she felt empty, and lonely, and sad.

The sad part was grief. The sad was from missing her mom. Her mom had always been there for her, an adviser, a cheerleader, her best friend. It was her mom who’d helped her weather the ups and downs of marriage, as well as learn to adapt to the unpredictable life of a professional baseball player.

But now Mom was gone and life was getting unpredictable again, and Sarah felt as if she was falling, flailing. She needed Mom right now. She needed someone strong and focused and fierce in her corner.

* * *

B
oone didn’t arrive home until close to three. He took a shower before he came to bed, waking her, and she lay in the dark, staring at the clock, wondering why he was showering now, wondering what he was trying to rinse off.

Don’t think that way,
she told herself.
Don’t go getting crazy . . .

As Boone turned off the bathroom light and headed for bed, Sarah heard a car door slamming in the driveway next door, and then listened to the
ping ping
as Jeff Neeley locked the car and set the alarm.

So Jeff was home now, too.

Must have been quite the party.

Alyssa would probably be furious. Like Sarah, Alyssa didn’t like when her husband stayed out late.

“You awake, babe?” Boone asked, his deep voice unusually rough.

He’d probably been drinking some hard liquor and smoking cigars.

“Yes,” she whispered, trying to let go of the anger inside her. He was home. He was safe. She should be grateful for small mercies. But she wasn’t. She was mad that he needed to go out two nights in a row and drink and hang out with guys who liked nothing more than “tapping that.”

“Did you have a good night?” he asked, reaching out for her and drawing her toward him.

Usually she wanted to be close. Tonight she didn’t. Tonight she wanted to punch him. Punish him. He’d been out at a club. He’d been out looking at chicks. And hopefully that’s all he’d been doing. Just looking.

“You mad at me, babe?” he asked when she took too long to answer.

“No,” she fibbed, because it was three fifteen for God’s sake, too late to start a fight. “Just sleepy.”

“Sorry, baby.” He settled her against him, his chest now a pillow as his legs slipped between hers. “Go back to sleep.”

She wanted to. She tried to. But she couldn’t relax, not when every muscle in her body hummed with tension.

Boone, though, had no such problem. Within moments, his breathing slowed, deepening. He was almost asleep.

Sarah ground her teeth together, her back molars tight. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t do four months of him doing what he wanted, when he wanted, because in his testosterone-fueled world, it was okay.

She eased herself away from his arms, slipping her leg free of his to move all the way over onto her side of the bed. For nearly an hour she argued with herself, argued with Boone, argued with those who said leopards didn’t change their spots. Once a cheater, always a cheater, and yet for the past three years Boone had been so focused and committed.

But he didn’t feel that way to her now.

She felt scared and open. Vulnerable. Honest to God, she didn’t want to be the fool who was head over heels in love with a man who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.

* * *

S
arah was woken by an arm wrapping around her and Boone’s deep, rough voice in her ear. “It’s okay, baby. Everything’s fine.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

“You were having a bad dream,” he said.

She nodded.

“What were you dreaming?” he asked.

She tried to remember but couldn’t recall specifics. Only sadness. Terrible sadness. And it had to do with Boone.

“I think you left me,” she whispered.

“I’d never leave you, babe.”

Her eyes burned and she held her breath, the air bottled in her lungs. Okay, he’d never leave her, but did that mean he was faithful?

He wrapped his arms all the way around her, holding her secure, and she tried to relax, wanting to be comforted but unable to silence the voices in her head.

What if . . .

What if he was hooking up on the side?

What if it wasn’t a casual hookup, but something serious, someone he cared about?

What would she do if she found out? She’d leave him. She’d have to leave him. She couldn’t remain with someone she couldn’t trust.

And yet as Boone held her, his body so warm and hard against her, she felt some of the panic and fear ease. He had a way of calming her, comforting her, just by touching her. Why his body did that she didn’t know. But it had from the beginning.

Even after all these years, she loved how she felt in his arms. She loved how he smelled and tasted. Loved the way his body took hers, filling her, making her feel so much.

He rolled over onto his back, bringing her cheek onto his chest, her hip pressed to his. His fingers tangled in her long hair, separating strands and then pressing them close to the dip in her back. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Everything.”

“Break it down for me, hon.”

She exhaled and then drew a breath for courage. “We’re good, Boone, aren’t we?”

“Yes, babe, we are.” His fingers stilled for a moment. “Why?”

She nodded, closed her eyes, waiting for the relief, but relief didn’t come. Maybe there was just too much going on lately, too much change, too much grief. Maybe this wasn’t a Boone-and– Sarah thing, as much as a Sarah-being-overwhelmed thing. “I’m just so . . . wound up,” she said. “So worried about everyone and everything.”

“Tell me.”

“You already know . . . just seems like there is heartache and heartbreak everywhere. Meg and the kids, losing Jack. Kit and her strange biker boyfriend. Cass, who really wants a baby and Tommy won’t even discuss it with her anymore. And then there’s Dad . . . having to go it alone . . . and Mom . . . I miss her so much.”

“That
is
a lot. But I think most of that will sort itself out. It usually does.”

She nodded, and yet her chest ached and her eyes burned. “I just feel like I should be there . . . helping.”

His hand swept lower across her hip and butt. “And what would you do if you were there?”

She frowned in the dark, trying to imagine herself in San Francisco, in the middle of it all. “I don’t know. But at least I’d be there, close to everyone. I’d know what people need, too. I’d know what needs to be done. Like visit with Dad, keep him company. Or hang out with Meg and make dinner for her, and take the kids somewhere, doing something fun with them.” She drew a quick breath. “I’d tell Cass not to give up on the baby thing—”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d get into the middle of that one, babe. That’s between Tommy and Cassidy.”

“She’s always wanted to be a mom.”

“Tommy will be furious if you interfere.”

Sarah shrugged. “I just don’t think he understands what he’s doing to Cass, shutting the door on becoming parents.”

His fingertips traced her spine, lingering in the hollow just above her hips. “I’d still be careful there.”

“And there’s Kit.”

“Kit’s an angel.”

“Dating the devil.”

Boone laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. “He’s not that bad.”

“Yes, he is.” Sarah pushed up to gaze down into his face, unable to make out more than just a glint of eyes and teeth. “How can she be so desperate? She doesn’t need a man that bad. Jude is a loser. Makes me sick that she’s settling for him.”

“It won’t last,” Boone said, pulling her back down and shifting her weight on top of him.

She hitched a breath as he parted her legs, sliding her thighs onto either side of his hips. “You don’t think so?”

“No. Kit wants a family. That’s why she broke up with Richard. She wanted more, not less.”

“None of us liked Richard, and yet now he looks like a prince next to Jude.”

“Baby, Jude’s just a rebound. He won’t last. I’m sure of it.” Boone’s palm had been making slow, light circles on the curve of her butt cheek and then slipped to that sensitive line just under the cheek where her glutes met her hamstring and she shivered. He traced the line again and the air caught in her throat as everything inside her turned on.

Stretching up, Sarah claimed Boone’s mouth, kissing him slowly, letting the bubble of desire warm and grow, until her skin tingled and her breasts ached, nipples taut and sensitive against his hard chest.

She blinked, finding it nearly impossible to concentrate on the conversation with Boone’s hands in precarious places. “You really think so?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I don’t have to worry?” she murmured, senses swimming.

“No.” His lips covered hers, even as his hand slipped between her thighs and Sarah arched as he found the places she most wanted touched.

He kissed her sighs right out of her mouth. Boone was a man who took his time, and he most definitely took his time now.

Much later, pleasured, satiated, she yawned, ready to sleep. “Thanks, babe,” she said, so drowsy she wasn’t sure she could keep her eyes open another minute.

“Love you, Sarah.”

“I hope you do.”

He was silent and she was thinking he’d fallen asleep. But then he broke the quiet, saying, “Why don’t you go see Meg and your dad this weekend?”

She opened her eyes. “This weekend?”

“It’s Mother’s Day weekend. Why don’t you take the kids and go?”

“They’ve got school, Boone, and it’s a long flight.”

“So let’s find someone to stay with them, and you go for the weekend.”

“And leave the kids for Mother’s Day?”

“If you don’t make a big fuss about it, we’ll just tell them we’re celebrating when I’m back.”

She said nothing, weighing the possibility in her mind, thinking it was a lot of money and a lot of flying for just a couple of days.

“If you don’t want to go, don’t,” he said as the silence stretched. “But if you’re tempted, do go. After everything you’ve told me, I think your family needs you more for Mother’s Day this year than our kids.”

Ten

S
arah flew to San Francisco Friday morning. It was five weeks to the day since Jack’s funeral, and yet now that she was back in the Bay Area, with the bright blue sky dotted with wispy white clouds, she felt as though she’d never left.

Brianna borrowed Mom’s car to pick her up from the airport, and she filled Sarah in on the way back to Dad’s house.

“Nothing’s really changed,” Bree said, accelerating hard to pass a car and then slamming on the brakes to get the car tailing her to back off.

Sarah tensed, having forgotten what a madwoman Brianna was behind the wheel. “No?”

Bree shook her head. “I’m still staying with Dad. He’s still determined to be positive and upbeat, which means he’s frenetically busy. Kit and Jude are still dating, much to Dad’s disgust—”

“Dad doesn’t like Jude either?” Sarah interrupted.

“Can’t stand him. And I don’t know if it’s all the ink, or the bike, or the black leather, but he’s not a fan.”

“Kit has to end this.”

Brianna grimaced, thin fingers tapping the steering wheel. “I don’t see that happening anytime soon. She’s really into Jude.” She shot Sarah a quick look. “I keep waiting to hear that they’ve run away to Vegas together.”

“Stop!”

Brianna shrugged, shot her sister a rueful glance. “You know they’re living together.”

“What?”

“He moved in with Kit.”

Sarah’s eyes bugged, shocked and disgusted. Kit deserved so much better. She did. “But Kit said he has his own place, a little house in San Leandro, a couple of miles from her school.”

“He still owns it. He just doesn’t sleep there anymore.”

“Oh no.” Sarah slumped in her seat, depressed by the news. “Tell me something else. Please. Can’t handle thinking about Kit ruining her life with Loserville.”

“Hmm, let’s see. What else can I tell you? Tommy and Cass are not doing well. Cass can hardly be in the same room with him now, because Tommy has shut her down so completely.”

“What does that mean?”

“Cass isn’t even allowed to bring up the topic of babies or kids. It’s apparently off-limits—”

“That’s ridiculous. There can’t be things you don’t discuss in a marriage.”

“I agree with you on that one, but Tommy is doing the ultimate power play. It’s his way or the highway, and Cass is considering leaving.”

“No!”

Bree shrugged. “It’s what she told Dad last weekend.”

Sarah’s insides suddenly hurt. “She told Dad she was thinking of leaving Tommy?”

Bree nodded.

Sarah couldn’t believe it. “How do you know?”

“They were over for a barbecue last weekend. It was great weather, really warm, felt like summer, so Dad thought it’d be nice to grill some steaks and have family over. Only it wasn’t a nice barbecue. Meg didn’t come. Kit and Jude were there but Jude had to leave early for something and Kit ended up going, too. And that’s when it became apparent that Cass and Tommy weren’t speaking to each other.”

“At all?”

Brianna shook her head. “Dad pulled each of them aside, independently, of course, and tried to talk to them about finding a middle ground, but Cass said she’s over it, and Tommy thinks that with enough time, Cass will come around.”

“And this was just last weekend?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.” Sarah sucked the inside of her lip against her teeth, picturing Tommy and Cass, remembering how solid they’d once been. The whole infertility thing had really done a number on their marriage. “He could lose Cass,” she said softly.

“Dad said as much to Tommy. And he didn’t say it nicely. He pretty much reamed Tommy out, but it just got Tommy’s back up. The more everyone tries to talk to him about the baby thing, the more adamant he is that it’s not going to happen.”

Sarah tipped her head back against the seat, suddenly wondering if she should have stayed in Tampa. It sounded like this weekend was going to be endless drama.

“And Meg? What about her? Is she okay . . . considering the circumstances?”

“Mags is Mags—” Brianna paused as she exited the 101, merging briefly onto the 280, before taking Monterey Boulevard to reach their house in the Sunset district. “She’s just doing her thing.”

“I’ve only talked to her once in the past five weeks,” Sarah said.

“I don’t think anyone’s talked to her. Or seen much of her. She’s not wanting a lot of company, although, of course, Dad sees her at JJ’s games.”

“He’s going to them, then?”

“Hasn’t missed one. He’s always in his car, heading north.”

“That’s good.”

Brianna shrugged. “I think he could use more downtime—” She broke off as she slammed on her brakes and shoved her hand out the open window to flip off the driver who’d just cut her off. “Dickhead,” she muttered, giving him the bird a second time. “Drivers here are so rude.”

Sarah choked back shocked laughter. “They are, aren’t they?”

But Brianna heard the amusement in her sister’s voice. “You think I’m rude, too?”

Fighting the urge to smile, Sarah shrugged. “I wouldn’t call flipping someone off nice.”

“Whatever.”

Still trying not to smile, Sarah looked out her window at the small houses and buildings bordering Monterey. Soon they’d be in Monterey Heights, and then St. Francis Woods. She loved this area with the charming stucco Spanish-style houses built during the twenties and thirties, but her favorite Spanish Colonial Revival house was on Santa Paula. The 1928 mansion was reportedly ten thousand square feet, and it filled an entire corner lot. Such a cool place. San Francisco had so much history.

Sarah loved this city. She’d never planned on leaving it, but then, she’d never planned on meeting Boone.

If she hadn’t married him and moved away, she’d probably live in St. Francis Woods now, even though the elegant neighborhood seemed to permanently sit in a pocket of fog. But wasn’t that San Francisco’s charm? St. Francis Woods could be totally gray and soupy, while on the other side of the hill, the Noe Valley basked in the sun.

“So it’s just going to be us for Mother’s Day with Dad, then?” Sarah asked, turning to look at Brianna as she braked at a traffic light.

“No. It’s the whole family. All of us kids. Meg and her crew, Kit and Jude, Tommy, Cass, you, me.”

Sarah rubbed at her temple. “So even though no one’s getting along we’re all still getting together?”

“Absolutely.”

“Oh God.”

Brianna grinned. “And best of all, we’re cooking!”

“Who is cooking?”

“We, us, the girls.”

Sarah closed her eyes, counted to five, and then to ten. “Why can’t we just go out to eat?”

“Because Dad wanted brunch at the house. Wants to see us all around the table. Thinks it’s a good way to honor Mom.”

Sarah understood that. “So it’s brunch?”

“Yep.”

“What are we making?”

“Kit and Cass put together the menu and have assigned something to everyone.” She glanced at Sarah, lips pursing. “I have a big job.”

Sarah’s eyebrows arched. That was interesting. Brianna was a terrible cook. “What is it?”

“Orange juice.”

Sarah choked back laughter. Clearly, no one trusted Brianna in the kitchen.

* * *

S
aturday morning, Sarah wandered restlessly around the house, climbing upstairs to what used to be Tommy’s room and was now a playroom for the grandkids. She opened the doors to the deck to let the sunshine in, needing light and warmth.

The house felt so different without Mom. It was empty, hollow, like a Hollywood set . . . the facade of a house without real people inside.

How did Dad stand it?

Sarah stepped outside, crossing the deck to lean on the railing and lift her face to the sun. She’d gotten here just yesterday, but she missed her kids, missed Boone, and was already wanting to go home.

Where are you, Mom? Are you there, Mom? Can you hear me?

“There you are,” a voice said from the doorway.

Sarah opened her eyes, glanced over her shoulder at Bree, on the threshold, looking lost in her shapeless gray sweatpants and burgundy T-shirt emblazoned with the word
ANARCHY
in antique gold. “Is someone looking for me?”

“Me,” Brianna answered, stepping outside and stretching. “Beautiful day.”

“It is,” Sarah agreed, watching Bree cross to one of the pine Adirondack chairs and sit down, curling her legs up under her. “Where have you been all morning?”

“Sleeping.”

“But you went to bed so early.”

Bree shrugged. “I like sleeping.”

Sarah watched as her sister tipped her head back, eyes closing, letting the sunshine play on her face. She looked relaxed, but also small and pale and shockingly fragile.

She was just a ghost of her former self.

Sarah knew then, definitively, that something was wrong with Brianna. Brianna was sick.

“How about you?” she asked, sitting down in the chair next to Brianna’s. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good.”

Sarah didn’t believe it. But she wasn’t going to push Brianna. Between the Kit and Jude stuff and the Tommy and Cass stuff, there was just way too much tension. She didn’t want to add to it. In fact, all she wanted was to know that someone was good. “You said that Meg has been keeping to herself?” she asked, looking at Bree. “You think she’s okay . . . or not?”

Brianna sighed. “I’d have to go with not okay. She’s really torn up about Jack.”

“She loved him.”

“She wasn’t happy with him, though. She was staying out of a sense of duty. Everybody knew it, too.”

“But that’s Meg. Meg is, always has been, so very responsible.”

“And being so wedded to responsibility was killing her.” Brianna tipped her head back, looked up at the blue sky with the wispy clouds. “I think she loved Chad.”

“She didn’t.”

“I think she did. But she wasn’t going to admit it. Not to us. Maybe not even to herself, because it was the wrong thing to do . . . to love someone who wasn’t your husband. To love someone so physically, passionately. Meg is all about control, but Chad made her lose control, so guilt and fear and shame surrounded her feelings, tainting the relationship. So if she renounced Chad, and her feelings, then she could forgive herself.”

Sarah needed a moment to take this all in, and she nodded, thinking about it, thinking Brianna might have actually nailed it. “I think you might be right.”

“I know I’m right.”

Sarah fought the urge to smile. “What makes you so sure? You’ve detested her most of her life.”

Brianna’s jaw tightened, and her eyes suddenly watered. She looked away from Sarah. “I don’t detest her.” Her voice cracked. “Never have. How could I hate Meg? She’s a good girl. A good person.” She reached up and quickly brushed away a tear. “I just wish I’d been different. I wish I’d been less of a pothead and crazy-ass wild child. I’ve been so stupid in my life. Have made so many mistakes—”

“Everybody does,” Sarah said, sitting forward and touching Brianna’s leg, a leg that felt like nothing. Too thin, Bree was just too thin.

“But I’ve done it for years. Continued for years. Taking too many chances, taking risks, not being smart, not caring . . .” Brianna wiped away another tear. “Please ignore me. Can’t believe I’m crying in front of you.”

Sarah’s chest squeezed tight. “I don’t care.”

“I do.” Brianna sat up taller, stretching her legs out in front of her. “And we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about Meg. Meg and her guilt. Meg and her shame. We have to help her get rid of it, or she’ll never be able to be with Chad—”

“But she’ll never be with Chad again,” Sarah interrupted. “She won’t date him again. She can’t. There’s way too much water under the bridge.”

“Why?”

“Kit told me that people in Santa Rosa and Napa talked about Meg last summer. People were really harsh. Quite a few people shunned her, saying terrible things about her, and it really hurt her.”

“So? Why does she care what people think about her? Sticks and stones may break your bones—”

“Yes, but this is Meg. And Meg does care. And she cares about appearances.”

“That’s stupid. And shallow.”

“Not that shallow when you realize she does it mainly to protect the kids.”

“The kids?”

Sarah nodded. “Meg’s a mom. It’s different when you’re a mom. Different when you have kids. You’ve got to do what’s right for them, and getting back together with Chad wouldn’t be good for the kids. It’d just be opening old wounds.”

“But Meg deserves happiness.”

“She does. I completely agree with you there. But unfortunately, she won’t find it with Chad.”

“Well, I’m going to root for Chad. I’m a romantic. I like happy endings.”

Sarah blinked, surprised. “You’re a romantic?”

“Die-hard.” Brianna smiled crookedly. “You didn’t know?”

Sarah shook her head. “No.” She stared at her sister, seeing her with all new eyes. “Always?”

Brianna grinned. “Yes. But I was scared of falling in love. Scared of commitment. Scared that someone might love me and want me. Scared of finding real love and then being rejected for not being worthy.” Her grin faded, leaving her pale face open, her expression uncertain. Suddenly she looked like a girl. Young, shy, vulnerable. “You had no idea that crazy Bree was such a scaredy-cat, did you?”

Sarah stared at Brianna’s delicate profile—the small nose, the long eyelashes, the full, sensual mouth beneath a firm chin. She was beautiful. And real. And ill.

“Is it serious, Bree?” Sarah asked quietly, gently, but even then the words felt raspy and sharp in her mouth, making it hurt to speak.

Brianna turned to look at her. “What?”

Sarah held her gaze. “Did you at least tell Mom what was going on with you, before she died?”

For a moment her sister didn’t speak, and Sarah wasn’t sure she would. But then Brianna’s lips moved, and she forced out a word. “Yes.”

“You told Mom what was wrong?”

“Yes.”

“It’s . . . serious. Isn’t it?”

Brianna’s thin chest rose and fell. Her mouth worked. Then she shrugged, almost carelessly. “It’s . . . no. It’s . . . fine.”

Sarah didn’t believe her. “Are we going to lose you, too, Bree?”

“I sure as hell hope not.”