Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) - By Elizabeth Ruston Page 0,21
open the door of the conference room and called to Marcela, “Get her things. Come with me.”
“What’s going on?” Chapman called, but Joe let the door swing shut again.
“What room are you in?” he asked her again.
Sarah shook her head weakly. She wasn’t trying to be difficult, she just honestly didn’t remember. After staying in so many different hotel rooms over so many weeks, she had no hope of keeping it straight. She started storing each day’s key inside the little envelope the clerk at the front desk gave her. That way she could always refer to the room number written on the outside.
Marcela now joined them, holding Sarah’s purse and laptop case. Sarah pointed to the purse.
“Key.”
Even that much effort felt monumental. Sarah had to rest her head against Joe’s chest.
“Sarah?” He sounded so far away. “Sarah.” Joe shifted her in his arms so that he held her more securely.
“Got it,” Marcela said, showing Joe the key she found in Sarah’s purse. “Room four-eighty.”
“Would you come with us, please?” he asked Marcela as he started carrying Sarah toward the elevator. “I need you to bring those things to her room. But I’d keep your distance,” he added. “We don’t know what she has.”
“What about you?” Marcela asked him, no doubt noticing that Sarah’s sweaty face was just inches from his.
“Indestructible,” Joe told her.
Sarah heard it, but felt too weak to respond. It was a line he had used on her more than a few times. And it still made her mad because it always seemed to be true.
As they rode the elevator, Marcela asked, “What should I tell the others?”
“Tell my client we have to reschedule. And tell Paul to cancel the afternoon. I don’t think Sarah’s coming back. At least not today.”
“Yes, I am,” Sarah forced herself to say. “I just need to rest. Don’t cancel . . . ”
But she couldn’t say anymore.
Her stomach was starting to move.
“Oh, God . . . ” Sarah pressed her sweaty face into Joe’s shoulder and held on to one thought only: Not here, not here, not here . . .
Her room was just a few doors down from the elevator.
“Hurry, Burke,” Sarah urged.
Her stomach lurched.
“Oh, God . . . ”
As soon as Marcela got the door open, Joe raced with Sarah into the bathroom. Her knees barely hit the floor before her mouth exploded over the toilet.
Everything she had eaten since high school, it seemed, tried to come out of her. One wave after another, gushing, exploding.
In between heaves, Sarah fumbled at the buttons of her jacket. She peeled it off and tossed it to the side where she hoped it would be safe from any splatters. Then she tugged at the bottom of her silk top, desperate to lift it over her head.
“Sarah, what are you doing?”
“Get out!” she yelled, then vomited more. Including all over the shirt.
Now she was crying, in between heaves, as she twisted open the button on her pants. They were wool, lined, one of her nicest pairs. And she still had two more days of depositions when she’d have to wear them.
“What are you doing?” Joe asked again. “Leave those on.”
“I can’t—” but then another wave hit her, and her gut exploded once more.
Sarah rested for a moment against the toilet seat, and reached up to push down the handle. The bathroom reeked of vomit, and still Joe Burke stood in the doorway.
Sarah resumed trying to take off her pants.
“You’ll freeze to death,” Joe said. “Stop it.”
“Just help me,” she said.
Without asking why, he did. He pulled them off in one quick move, leaving Sarah in just her black bra and matching underwear, sitting on the cold tile floor.
“Here.” Joe spread out bath towels beside her and helped her shift her knees on top of them. Then he disappeared for a moment, and returned with the thick white hotel robe that had been hanging in the closet.
Joe helped Sarah thread her arms through the sleeves, then he wrapped it around her and tied the belt. Just that little bit of jiggling against her belly had Sarah twisting toward the toilet bowl again and losing so much of her insides, it felt like it included whatever she’d eaten since junior high, and maybe even elementary school.
When the wave passed, Sarah reached up and flushed again. Then she rolled onto the towels Joe spread out, curled her legs up into her for warmth, and let out a low moan.