The Good Wife (38 page)

It had been a good life.

They’d had a great marriage.

And if she closed the door on the past, they could have a good future.

If
she could close the door. That was the key. She had to trust him, and let him go.

A virtually impossible thing for a competitive girl like her.

Maybe that’s why she hadn’t forgiven him. It was her pride. She was angry he’d embarrassed her. Humiliated her. Played her.

“It’s going to be a beautiful sunset,” Meg said, joining her at the beach wall.

Sarah glanced at her sister. Meg wore a colorful tunic, Tory Burch, Sarah thought, recognizing the red and blue and ivory pattern.

“You doing okay, Meg?” Sarah asked, remembering what Kit had said about Jack not forgiving Meg, and how it’d crushed her.

“It’s not my favorite year.”

Sarah would have to agree with that.

“I wouldn’t say this to anyone else,” Meg said after a moment. “But I know you’re struggling, so I’m going to be honest with you. I wish I’d done things differently. With Jack.” She pursed her lips, considered her next words. “I wish I’d asked for a divorce.”

Sarah’s jaw dropped.

Meg nodded. “I wish I’d taken more time to think about what I really needed before I insisted we stay together and work it out. But I didn’t take time. I was scared and ashamed. Worried about what everybody would think.”

“So you really did want to be with Chad?”

“I really wanted to be happy.”

Sarah didn’t know what to say to that.

Meg studied her youngest sister. “I don’t know what’s best for you. Only you know that. So here’s my advice: don’t worry about what other people think. This—your marriage—it’s
your
marriage. This is your life. Those other people . . . they have their own lives. They have their own relationships. They don’t get to have a say in yours. They don’t get to vote. My opinion . . . Dad’s . . . Kit’s . . . Boone’s parents’ . . . none of our opinions matter because none of us are in your marriage. None of us are in your bedroom, or your bed. You are. And you, and only you, know what’s best for you.”

Sarah drew a deep breath. There was a great deal to process, but Meg’s words resonated with her. What her sister said made sense.

“Dad said I’m an athlete who’s walked off the field in the middle of the game, forfeiting the game,” Sarah said. “I’m not quitting because the ref made a bad call. I’m quitting because Boone cheated.”

Meg smiled at her. “But you love the game.”

Sarah frowned. “Do you mean, I love Boone?”

“I mean you love it all. Boone, life, challenge. You love to play. You love to put it out there. You’re dangerously competitive, you take risks, you go for it. And you did. Always. In school, on the volleyball court, with Boone.”

“Dad wants me to work it out with Boone.”

“Dad wanted me to work it out with Jack. That’s Dad. He’s old-fashioned. He likes his girls married. He likes everything tidy and safe. And yet he’s the retired firefighter. His only son is a firefighter. His dad and brothers and grandfather and great-grandfather were all firefighters, too. This risk thing is in the genes, Sarah. It’s part of our DNA.”

“Well, Kit was sure risk averse.”

“Until she met Jude. And now she’s risk happy.”

Sarah snorted, amused. “Does that mean you wish you’d tried to make it work with Chad?”

“It doesn’t really matter now. He’s dating someone else,” Meg said. “It’s serious. Craig thinks they’ll be engaged before the end of the year.”

“You talked to Craig recently?”

“He called and offered me my job back.”

“Did you take it?”

Meg shook her head. “Couldn’t go back, couldn’t work there. Too much water under the bridge.”

“You did love Chad, then.”

“I loved the idea of being loved.”

“You risked your marriage for the idea of being loved?”

“I risked—” Meg broke off, brow creasing as she thought. “Yes. I risked my marriage because I wanted more. I needed more. It didn’t work out. Now I’m focused on helping the kids through their loss, helping them adjust to life without their father. It’s probably a good thing Chad is involved elsewhere. If we got together now, it would be for the wrong reasons.”

“Wrong reasons?”

“I can’t make him a crutch. Can’t lean on him because I’m scared or lonely.”

Sarah saw herself kicking Boone to the curb and then kicking him while he was down. She saw her just go at him in her mind, kicking, kicking, kicking . . .

Sarah was fighting with Boone for the wrong reasons.

“I’m punishing him,” she said. “I’m punishing Boone because he hurt me.”

“I found out just recently that Jack had . . . someone . . . on the East Coast. I don’t know all the details. I don’t want to know the details. It’s enough to know he was leaving me for someone else. They must have been together for at least a couple of months. He’d bought a house right before Christmas. He put her name on the deed. She’s living in the house now in D.C., mourning my husband. Who she thought would be her future husband.”

“So Jack was having an affair?”

“From what I gather, it started last summer, while I was here in Capitola. Jack thought we were over, and he was back in Virginia and fell in love with this Nancy. But who knows. And does it matter? Does keeping score help anything?”

Sarah had to think about it. “Only if you want to know who won.”

“But marriage isn’t about winners and losers. It can’t be. The moment you start keeping score, you will lose. It’ll be over.”

“It’s hard to remember that when you’re hurt.”

“Damn hard to remember anything when you’re licking your wounds.” Meg paused. “Jack and I never had an easy marriage. I loved him. He was brilliant. Interesting. I loved his mind. But he was never really there for me the way I’d hoped he’d be. But I made it work. I wanted us to work. I changed my expectations. Managed my needs. Mom helped me a lot with that. She made me realize that there is no right way to love. No right way to do anything. There’s just the way that works for you.”

Meg looked at Sarah, smiled faintly. “So I stopped wanting the perfect marriage and settled for a good marriage. I stopped thinking I had to be the perfect wife and accepted that I was doing my best, and being a good wife.”

* * *

M
eg returned to the house to finish her card game with Cass, and Sarah walked down to the water and watched the waves crest and break before one crashed higher than the others, the white surf rushing up, surging across her feet.

The water felt cold. The air smelled tangy, salty, and the sun had almost sunk all the way into the ocean. Just a little bit of orangy-red glowed on the horizon, an arc of persimmon against the purple sea.

So many colors, she thought, color everywhere, not black and white.

And yet she’d always viewed life as black and white. Good and bad. Right and wrong.

It’s how sports were played. It’s why there were umpires and referees in sports. They were there to enforce the rules. Make sure everyone played fair.

She’d liked having umps and refs. It was convenient. They made life easy.

But life wasn’t easy. It was messy. Messy color. Layer upon layer of color like Ella’s globby finger paintings.

And Sarah framed those finger paintings. And Brennan’s art projects. She framed them not because they were perfect, but because her children had made them. And her children mattered.

Boone mattered.

Just as she mattered.

They were all important, not because they were perfect and right and orderly, but because they
were
.

They existed.

They were part of creation.

Of course creation needed order. She’d been attracted to law for a reason. But couldn’t she find order and meaning at home? Couldn’t she find herself without leaving the people—the person—who mattered so very much to her?

Perhaps what she needed to do was not leave Boone, but to shift her focus off of him and onto herself.

She needed goals. Dreams. Work she could do.

There was no reason to limit herself. She could have lofty goals. How did it hurt to set the bar high?

If they stayed in the Bay Area, she could apply to Berkeley’s law school.

If they moved to New Orleans, she could apply to Tulane.

Tulane had an outstanding law school. It’d be fun—interesting—to go to school in New Orleans. It’d be fun to live there. It’d be a new adventure. Sarah liked adventure. And challenges.

She’d fallen in love with Boone because he’d challenged her.

She was a risk taker. She’d always been a risk taker. She just needed to get out of her head and back into life.

Sarah fished her phone from her sundress pocket. She hit Boone’s name under favorites. She went to voice mail. She expected it. It was a little after seven. He’d be on the field, under the stadium’s bright lights, with forty thousand fans cheering in the stands.

“Hey, Boone, it’s me,” she said, leaving him a message. “I know you’re heading out of town Friday for a six-day road trip. I hope it’ll be a great trip. You guys are doing really well. If things continue like this, you’ll be in the playoffs, which would be so cool.”

She drew a quick breath, her heart pounding, her voice less steady. “I love you. I love you so much that I kind of lost myself a bit, but it’s going to be okay. I know it’s going to be okay. Because you’re right. We can’t change the past, but we have now, and I’m thinking about the future. I’m excited about the future. You know I once wanted to go to law school. Maybe it’s not too late. Both Berkeley and Tulane have prestigious law schools. I know you wouldn’t tell me no. You’ve never discouraged me from anything. But I’d still like to get your thoughts. Hear what you think. Anyway. Call me later, if you want. Or whenever you want. No pressure. There’s been enough of that lately.”

She hung up. Clutched the phone between her hands and started walking back to the beach house.

She was almost to the porch when her phone buzzed with a text.

My girl would be an incredible lawyer
.

Sarah blinked back tears.
You have your phone in the dugout?

Not supposed to. I’ll get fined if I get caught. But I’ve been missing you. Was hoping you’d call. And you did.

You still love me a little bit?

He texted,
I love you more now than ever.

So can we please forget the whole separating thing?

Consider it forgotten.

Her heart turned over. She sat down on the front steps of the beach house.
Easier said than done
.
I was pretty crazy
.

Shit happens
.
But it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.

Sarah took a deep breath, grateful, so grateful he was strong.
The past is the past. I’m focusing on us, now, and in the future.

That’s my girl. Knew you could do it. You’ve got your mojo back.

Twenty-two

T
he restaurant Plum was dark. Heads turned as Boone and Sarah moved between the tables in the dining room, the hostess leading the way.

Sarah was glad Boone held her hand as they wove between the thick wood tables. She was nervous. They were meeting Chris and Lauren for a late dinner following tonight’s game.

The dinner had been her idea. She wanted to apologize to Lauren. Needed to apologize. She’d been horrible to Lauren the day in the café. Her behavior embarrassed her. It also made her sad. She knew better. She might be Boone’s wife, but she was still a Brennan. She’d always be a Brennan.

Boone gave her fingers a squeeze. “Don’t be nervous,” he said.

She looked up into his handsome face. His expression was warm. A smile lurked in his beautiful eyes. “I just wish I’d apologized sooner. It’s been over two weeks—”

“We’ve been on the road a lot. Lauren works a lot. It’s okay. Trust me.”

She nodded, relaxing, because she did trust him. She would trust him. That was the vow she’d made in Capitola. She’d focus on being positive, focus on forgiveness, focus on what lay ahead, not that which was behind.

Suddenly they were at the table where Chris and Lauren waited. Chris and Lauren rose. Boone shook hands with Chris, kissed Lauren’s cheek, and then Lauren was turning to Sarah, and she opened her arms and hugged Sarah. Warmly.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah whispered, eyes burning. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Meg’s my friend,” Lauren interrupted huskily. “That makes you my friend.” She pulled back, smiled at Sarah. “It’s all good.”

And it was all good, Sarah thought, as the four of them lingered at the dinner table two hours later, talking, laughing, discussing life, love, and baseball.

It was past midnight. They were closing the restaurant tonight, but the waitstaff didn’t seem to mind. It was just that kind of a night. Mellow.

Special.

Great food. Great company. Great conversation.

Boone suddenly turned to look at her, and his warm gaze held hers. His lips curved. Heat flared in his eyes.

She blushed, knowing what he was thinking.

He leaned close, whispered, “I want you.”

Her cheeks burned. Her pulse quickened. She nodded. She wanted him, too.

“You and me,” he said, voice pitched low, sliding an arm around her shoulders.

“Together,” she added, huskily.

He smiled.

He’d taken her to see the Dave Matthews Band in concert and this was her favorite song. It was her anthem. Their anthem. She’d always felt like it’d been written just for them.

“Can do anything,” Boone finished.

She smiled unsteadily, blinking back tears.

It was true, she thought, reaching for his hand under the table and holding it tightly. Together they could do anything.

Together anything was possible.

Together.

That was the key word.

That was the important piece.