Every head in the cafe turned to look at us as we kept going with the song, singing at the top of our lungs like some sort of cathartic exercise.
It felt good to let go and just be me again. No pretenses, no show. I wasn’t trying to hold anybody up or keep the threads together.
For the first time in a long time, I was just Sarah—the girl who thought life was beautiful.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Justin
I had to move out of my motel. It’d been five weeks in that stuffy room, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take it. Work was all-consuming. Everything else in my life sucked, and it was slowly killing me. Chipping away at the nothing I had left and turning me to vapor.
Sarah lingered in my mind constantly. I missed her. She’d always been the light at the end of my day, but I couldn’t keep burning her out like I had. She gave her all to me and I’d given nothing back…so she’d found someone else’s arms to hold her.
It didn’t matter what I wanted. She didn’t need my pathetic self in her life anymore. I was doing the right thing.
She only had a few days left to respond to the divorce papers, and then the long-winded process would begin. We wouldn’t be officially divorced for months. I didn’t want to think about it; I just had to take one step at a time and remind myself I was doing Sarah a favor.
Setting her free was the right move.
So why did it feel like a chain around my neck?
Slapping down the latest set of contracts, I shifted the file to my outbox only to find a new stack of folders beneath it. I scowled at the sticky note.
This is the last set for the week. I didn’t want to overload you. I know you’ve got an assignment due Monday. Marcus has the reports you’ll need to finish this.
Clay
I gave the note the finger, tempted to hurl the files off my desk. Pulling in a calming breath, I bunched my fists then sat down with clenched teeth. Flipping the folder open, I got to work.
Work.
Work.
Fucking work!
That was all my life consisted of, and I was miserable.
The clock ticked on the wall while I proofread Clay’s latest report. It was due by the end of the day. Rubbing my eyes, I tried to stop the letters blurring. I was so sick of legal jargon. The terminology blended into one big pile of gloop, and by the time I got to the end of the page, I realized I hadn’t absorbed a word.
“Shit,” I muttered, standing up and pushing away from my desk. I decided to pop in on Marcus and pick up those reports. I needed a break away from small black letters on white paper and computer screens.
Someone greeted me and I smiled, not really noticing who she was. Shuffling down the corridor, I turned toward Marcus’s office. I knocked once and clicked open the door.
“Hey, man.” He grinned at me.
He was pretty damn happy these days. Stupid engagement.
I gave him a tight smile. “R-reports for C-Clay?”
“On Kelly’s desk, I think.”
I nodded and went to leave.
“You doing okay?” Marcus called across the room.
People asked that question all the time, but when Marcus did, I knew he meant it…and I knew I couldn’t answer. So I just walked away.
Neither Marcia nor Kelly was at the front desk. I didn’t want to wait around, so I ducked into Kelly’s workspace and started hunting. I didn’t get far. My gaze was snagged by Kelly’s computer screen.
“Sarah?” I whispered, recognizing my wife’s email address. Ducking over Kelly’s chair, I skimmed to the bottom of the messages so I could read the entire conversation between them.
Hey Kelly,
Just wanted to let you know that I’ll courier those papers over this afternoon. Can you make sure Justin gets them okay? I’d like someone who cares about him to hand them over. Please look after him for me.
Thanks for everything.
xx
Sarah
*****
Sure. Of course, I will.
Are you doing okay? When do you leave for Paris?
*****
Tonight. The show’s this weekend.
*****
Since when was she doing a show in Paris? I frowned and leaned a little closer to the screen, hating that I didn’t know what she was up to. Yes, I was asking for a divorce, but I wasn’t asking for the soul-crushing isolation that accompanied it. It made me realize how much I still wanted to be a part of her life. A show in Paris was a big deal. Pride soared through me before I even thought about it. I should have been there to hug her and celebrate with her. Instead, I’d been moping around my motel room, ignoring her texts.
Guilt wrinkled my forehead, and I berated myself for being such a selfish prick. She deserved to move on, to become a world-famous designer and be with someone who could treat her right. With a sharp huff, I went to move away from the screen, but my eyes skimmed Kelly’s next message and I was pulled right back.
Good luck. I know you’re scared.
Scared? Why? I scanned up the page, concern swamping me as I raced to read Sarah’s reply.
Your dad’s not going to be there. I don’t think I could do this if he was. I’ve only spoken to him twice since Vegas. It’s all been very professional, but I’d rather die than bump into him in a social setting again. I’m not going to touch a drop of alcohol while I’m away, but still…I just can’t go there again.
My blood ran cold. I missed the rest of Sarah’s response.
A penny fell through my brain, pinging off each circuit as a vile realization came to light. She’d never outright said it, but I wasn’t stupid. There could only be one reason she’d want to avoid her boss in a social setting.
It’d been him.
Kelly’s father. The head of Echelon Fashion. My wife had slept with him.
My stomach plummeted as I imagined his hands all over her. Having a picture made it a million times worse. The guy was old enough to be her father. What the hell had she been she thinking? It was sick.
And she was still working for him.
She’d signed our divorce papers and was flitting off to Paris. Everything I wanted, right? For Sarah to be happy and successful…for her to move on. But not with a married man. What kind of asshole does that? Not only did he cheat on his wife, he went after mine as well!
I stumbled away from the chair, breaths punching out of me as I gripped the back of my neck.
Kelly appeared around the corner with a coffee mug in her hand. “Oh, hi. Can I help you with something?”
She took a sip and set the mug down while I backed out of her workspace and splayed my hands across the reception counter.
“You knew,” I seethed. My voice was a low, gravelly murmur.
She looked up with a confused frown. “Excuse me?”
“You fucking knew!” I slapped the shiny veneer, making her jump. I didn’t care; I was too riled to think straight. “You rich, pretentious assholes think you can have whatever the hell you want. Does your father not have enough? Huh? He had to take the one thing most precious to me?” I roared across the counter.
Kelly’s skin paled, her eyes darting to her computer screen before closing with a sick look of guilt.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right. You think I’m stupid. Trying to hide this shit from me. Geez, Kelly! You—”
My words were cut short by a rough yank to my jacket. Marcus spun me around, grabbing my collar and slamming back against the desk. His thunderous look could have melted iron. “Don’t you dare speak to her that way.”
I wrestled his hands off me and shoved him back. “She knew. She knew this whole time!”
“And you didn’t want to!” he yelled back. “You haven’t wanted to talk about this once, so don’t be yelling at her.” Marcus pointed at a wide-eyed Kelly. “You need to take a good look in the mirror, my friend, and stop blaming everyone else around you for your own misery.”
Heads had poked out of offices, checking out the d
rama. I felt each and every gaze, my cheeks spiking with color as I shakily tugged my jacket down.
Spinning on my heel, I stormed for the exit, shoving the door open with my shoulder and racing down the stairs. I didn’t want to look in any damn mirror. I wanted to find the nearest bar and forget life existed.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sarah
“Distance” played throughout the house as I folded my clothes and got ready for Jules to collect me. As far as I knew, it was just the two of us going for the Paris show, plus Michael was joining us from the New York office. Echelon wasn’t hosting the event like they had in Vegas. We were being featured as part of a collaborative venture between several fashion houses, which was why Enrique probably didn’t feel the need to attend. If he wasn’t front and center, he wasn’t interested.
I scoffed out a bitter laugh.
Why was I still working for him?
Because I needed the money. The opportunities at Echelon Fashion were too big. I was on my way to making a name for myself. How could I just walk away from that? I no longer had a marriage, so I had to make the most of my career.
It was something I could control.
Whether or not it was the right decision, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that Paris would be a good break away from everything in LA.
The doorbell jerked me out of my stupor.
I headed down the stairs, snatching the divorce papers off the edge of the dining room table before answering.
The courier stood there with her scanner.
“How’s it going?” she murmured, not really caring what my answer was.
Checking the address and the label, she scanned the sticker then tucked my life beneath her arm.
“It’ll be there by five.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, watching her trot down the stairs and into her van. She gave me a quick wave before reversing out of the driveway. I closed the door and leaned against it, my hair going up as I slid down.
My butt hit the floor and my arms flopped down.
There it went.
My marriage.
I turned in slow motion to stare at the stereo, the melancholy words washing over me as I whispered, “I love you, Justin.”
Chapter Thirty
Justin
The bar was a lonely place at four o’clock in the afternoon. It was a seedy little joint down the road from Torrence Records. I’d eaten there a couple times on the way home from work. The night crowd was rowdy and distracting.
The afternoon crowd…not so much.
Some country tune was whining out of the jukebox. I didn’t know it, but it was talking about drinking beer and life being sideways, so it suited me just fine.
A couple of older guys with round guts played pool in the back corner. One of them was sporting an impressive beard that reached nearly to his collarbone, while the other had a chin dimple that looked like it’d been made with an axe blade.
A baseball game was playing on the television¸ and the barman was as far away from my miserable ass as he could get. My vision was slightly blurry as I pressed the beer bottle to my lips and took a sip. I wasn’t that drunk—too much proofreading was turning my eyes to fuzz.
I had to get out of my damn job, but where the hell would that leave me?
Jobless.
Homeless.
Wifeless.
I was pathetic.
The bar door swung open and Marcus walked in. I groaned and turned away from him, swiveling so my body was angled at the pool tables.
He sat down with a snicker, slapping me on the shoulder before ordering himself a beer.
“So, this place is nice.”
I rolled my eyes and glared at him.
“It must be making you feel a whole lot better.” He looked around, his eyebrows rising. “I don’t see any mirrors though.”
“W-would you shut up about the d-damn m-mirror.”
“I’m not trying to be a condescending prick, okay? I just want to help you.” He sighed. “You’ve been miserable for weeks and you’re not doing anything to change that.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I snapped.
“Figure out what makes you happy and go after it.”
“I-I can’t have what makes me h-happy,” I growled. “S-she deserves better. I’ve looked in the fucking m-mirror and all I see is a d-damn failure. A guy who hates his life.” I slapped the bar. “She’s the s-sun, man. She’s so beautiful and I…I can’t even love her.” I shook my head, my eyes burning with tears.
Marcus studied my face with a sad smile. “But you do love her.”
“I can’t be enough,” I croaked. “She cheated on me, b-because I wasn’t enough.”
“That is such bullshit.” Marcus accentuated the T. “Do you honestly think if she wanted more than you, she would have refused to sign those papers?”
“She did sign them! They’re being couriered over as we s-speak.”
“Yeah, after nearly a month of contention. She did not want to sign those papers.”
“Then why did she?” My voice was small and wobbly as I cradled the beer bottle against my chest.
Marcus gave me an incredulous look and bulged his eyes at me. “Because you’ve left her with no other choice.”
I grunted then drained the bottle. Slapping it on the counter, I indicated to the barman that I’d like another.
Marcus shook his head. “No, he doesn’t.”
My glare was dark, narrowing my eyes to fine slits.
Marcus tutted and shook his head. “So, that’s it. You’re just gonna roll over and take it? Turn yourself into a bitter old bastard, because your wife cheated on you, one time…and she told you about it the second she got home…and she begged you to forgive her.”
My eyebrows dipped so low my forehead started to hurt.
“You know, it sounds to me like you’re the one who’s looking for the easy out.”
“That is not true!” I shot off the stool, leaning over him and pointing in his face. “I love her. I have loved her since the day I saw her!”
“Then why are you in this shithole getting drunk? Shouldn’t you be hauling ass over to your place right now? Winning her back?”
My chest deflated as I thumped back onto my stool. “I-I don’t know how to move past this a-agony inside me. How do I-I love her the way she d-deserves? I don’t even f-feel like a complete p-person anymore.”
Marcus gave me a compassionate smile before squeezing my shoulder. I’d told him about Blake months ago, brushed over the shocking details then told him I didn’t want to talk about it, ever again.
“Tell me this… Does having Sarah in your life make the agony worse?”
“Of course not.” I tipped my floppy head. “I’m miserable without her.”
“Then make a choice, man. Choose right here, right now, to forgive her. Choose to be the man she deserves. Choose to love her for the rest of your life. You may not do it perfectly, but love doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be real.”
I gazed at him with glassy eyes. His words landed on me and were sucked right into my chest.
“I’m not saying it’s going to be a walk in the park. Life’s dealt you guys some vicious blows, but the only thing that’s going to make you a failure is if you don’t try to overcome them. What kind of ending are you looking for, man? ‘Cause right now, you’re starring in your own tragedy. But there’s no law saying you have to stay in it.”
The music changed. It was like this weird moment where Marcus’s words and the new music created this supernatural kind of lightbulb experience.
I snapped my head around to gaze at the jukebox.
Mika was singing.
His voice had drawn my eyes to Sarah in the first place, and it was his song that was lashing me now. My mouth dropped open as “Happy Ending” played throughout the bar. Would his voice lead me back to her?
Having spent the last hour listening to country music, the song stuck out like a throbbing re
d thumb. Did I seriously want to spend the rest of my life without her?
“Little bit of love,” I whispered.
“That’s what I’m saying, man. It’s up to you. Let go of this horseshit that you’re not good enough and embrace the fact that she chose you in the first place.”
My nostrils flared, my heart jolting like it’d been hit with a defibrillator. Lurching off the stool, I ran for the door, my mind screaming as I dashed back to the office to grab my stuff. Marcus was right. Sarah had chosen me…just like I’d chosen her. Yeah, we hadn’t hit any roadblocks at that stage, but we’d made a commitment. I’d made a promise to love her, and now I had to make a choice to keep on doing that in spite of her betrayal, and in spite of my nothing center. I had to rise above all that shit. I had to start acting like the man I thought Sarah deserved.
Fear skittered through me as I bolted back to Torrence Records. Could I do it? Could I be that man?
“Yes,” I growled. “You fucking can.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Sarah
I followed Jules down the narrow aisle and waited for him to stow his luggage before passing him my bag. He slotted it into place then stepped aside so I could have the window seat.
“Thanks.” I sat down and buckled my seatbelt.
My hands were still shaky. They had been since I signed those divorce papers.
I couldn’t believe it was over.
Resting my chin on my knuckles, I gazed out the little plane window. We were sitting just behind the wing. It was the same view I’d had on the way to England. Justin’s hand had been on my knee as we prepared to travel overseas for the first time. I’d traveled a little, but we’d never gone anywhere together, and certainly not as husband and wife.
Rough Water (Songbird #7) Page 14