Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) - By Elizabeth Ruston Page 0,80
talk against our will.”
Sarah sighed. “Basic outline. Okay.” She lowered her voice to make sure no one in the other room might hear. “It’s about Joe. You remember.”
“Of course,” Angie said. “Scumbag broke your heart and now you’re making him suffer.”
“Yeah, well . . . that didn’t exactly work out the way I planned. Things have sort of . . . progressed.”
Angie raised her eyebrows. “I see. So this is complicated.”
“Right. And then last night he finally told me why he broke up with me before. And even though I don’t agree with his reason, I understand it. And I can . . . forgive it. But then this morning I found out something else that might change everything again. I just don’t know.”
“Hm. Interesting.” Angie unscrewed the lid on her thermos and poured a dark red liquid with flecks of green in it into two cups. She handed one to Sarah.
“No, thanks, really—”
“Drink it,” Angie said. “And have a bar, too.” She threw Sarah one of the few energy bars Sarah could stand, one made with peanut butter and pretzels. “You’re looking too skinny again. Eat up.”
Sarah knew there was no use arguing. She also knew Angie might be right. So even though she had no desire to put anything into her belly, she ripped open the package and took a bite, then washed it down with Angie’s smoothie. Both tasted surprisingly soothing.
“So let’s back up a second,” Angie said. She paused to take a bite of her own lunch, a mixture of brown rice and assorted vegetables. “As of last night, good guy, right?”
“Good enough,” Sarah said.
“But then this morning,” Angie said, “bad guy again.”
“Maybe.”
“Why maybe?”
“Because I can’t be sure,” Sarah said. “Not until a certain thing happens. But it could happen very soon.”
“So why not ask him?” Angie said, spearing a piece of broccoli.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not supposed to know,” Sarah said. “It’s confidential.”
“But you do know,” Angie pointed out, “so it can’t be that confidential.”
“But . . . ” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Because maybe Angie was right. If Sarah knew about it—if Mickey and Calvin and the three associates in that room now knew about it—how secret could it be?
It reminded Sarah of one of her mother’s favorite sayings: A secret is something you tell only one person at a time. Sarah wasn’t under any kind of legal restriction. She wasn’t a member of a grand jury, sworn to secrecy until the indictments were handed down. She heard about it through office gossip, just like Mickey had heard about it from a gossiping pal of his. Maybe she had as much freedom as Mickey did to talk about it if she wanted to.
If she wanted to.
“I’m just not sure I should confront him about it.”
Angie rolled her eyes. “Come on, Sarah. Man up.”
“Excuse me?”
“Why are you acting like you’re so weak all of the sudden?” Angie asked. “Okay, let me tell you a story.”
Sarah settled back into her chair and sipped some more of her smoothie. She always enjoyed Angie’s stories. They were usually inspiring vignettes about some burly endurance athlete whose memoir Angie was currently reading.
This time, however, the story was about Sarah.
“When you first came in here,” Angie said, “I thought you’d never make it through a whole hour. You were a complete weakling—”
“Thanks a lot.”
“This is also the Zone of Truth,” Angie said, “so take it. Anyway, you practically crawled out of here that first day, remember?”
“I believe the phrase is ‘literally crawled out of here,’” Sarah said. “I think I was on all fours all the way out to my car.”
“I thought you’d never show up again,” Angie said. “I’ve had plenty of new clients just like you, pretending to be all gung-ho at the beginning, then dying during their first workout, and never coming back. I thought for sure you’d be one of them.”
Sarah shrugged. “What can I say? I obviously love pain.”
“No, it’s because you commit,” Angie answered. “You make a decision and you see it through. You get where I’m going with this?”
Sarah bit off another bite of bar. “Is this your ‘quitters never win, winners never quit’ lecture?”
“Hey, it’s what I do,” Angie said. “Feel free to tell me something lawyerly later like, ‘Always read your contracts before you sign them.’” She smiled and softened her voice. “Sarah. I’ve known you a whole year now. And I’ve seen you go through the absolute worst period in your life, wouldn’t you say?”