The Good Wife(131)
“I think it’s selfish not being honest.”
“I do not—repeat do not—condone Jeff’s behavior.”
“So why didn’t you tell me?”
“That he was cheating on Alyssa?”
Sarah nodded.
“Because, Sarah, I knew you’d react like this, and it’s not good for either of us. It’s not healthy. And I love you. So I try to protect you the same way I try to protect my team.”
“By glossing over the truth.”
“By minding my own business and focusing on what’s important to me—which is you. And our family. And keeping our family intact.”
* * *
When Boone returned from the park that night, Sarah was in bed. She’d tried reading but couldn’t concentrate on the words and ended up putting the book away before Boone entered the room.
“Sorry about earlier,” he said gruffly, seeing that she was still awake with the light on.
“I hate that we’re fighting so much,” she said.
“Me, too.” He peeled off his shirt, dropped it on the chair in the corner, and stepped out of his pants, leaving him in his snug athletic boxers. He was such a beautiful man, and a genuinely kind man. She knew that. She knew he didn’t mean to hurt her. But it had happened and she was beginning to realize it would never get better.
She might not be able to forgive him. She might not be able to let them move on . . . together. Which meant they’d have to move on apart.
“You okay?” he asked, standing there, gazing down at her, expression troubled.
Her eyes stung, gritty.
No, she wasn’t okay. She was far from okay. But there wasn’t anything either of them could do about it.
He wanted her to be happy. She couldn’t be happy. She didn’t trust him. And the inability to trust him was pure poison.
Their relationship had become toxic. She had no idea how to stop this . . . fix this . . .
Was it time to get help?
Time to go to counseling . . . see a therapist?
Did she need something for her anxiety and depression?
What would make her okay? What would make everything okay?
“I don’t know,” Sarah answered.
How strange that you could love someone so much that it made you . . . hate . . . them.
Or yourself, for allowing yourself to care so much in the first place.
“What’s going on?” he asked, sitting down next to her on the side of the bed.
She shook her head once, tired, conflicted. Confused. And really tired of feeing conflicted and confused. “I don’t like myself,” she whispered.
“I don’t—” Boone broke off, frowned. “What does that mean?”
There was so much tension in her. The pressure felt unbearable. “I think I’m going crazy.”
“You’re not.” He reached down, stroked her shoulder and then her back. “You’re tired and stressed. We’ve had all these changes, and then this last year with your mom . . . that was really, really hard.”
She nodded halfheartedly. She was tired and stressed. And there had been changes, too many changes. She was good at weathering storms, but there had just been too many lately.
“It’s just temporary,” he added, now smoothing the hair from her face. His thumb followed the line of her cheekbone, up toward her brow. “It’ll pass. You’ll get your mojo back.”
Her mojo. If ever an expression owed its roots to sports, there it was.
Sarah wanted to smile, but her eyes were burning and tears were forming. “You’re right. Everything is fine. Everything will be fine.” She said the words, wishing that by saying them, she could make them true.
His thumb followed her brow bone. “Maybe you need to go on vacation . . . do something for yourself. Have a girls’ weekend, perhaps. You’ve certainly earned it.”
“Trying to get rid of me?” she asked, attempting to laugh but failing, her voice breaking.
“No. Never. Why would I want to do that? You’re my best friend, my wife, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
“But we’re fighting constantly.”
“We’re fighting a lot,” he agreed.
“You don’t like fighting.”
“I don’t. I’m not good with negativity. Never have been. I work hard to stay positive and focused.”
“It’s my fault that we’re having so many problems, isn’t it?”
Boone chose his words carefully. “You seem tired. But I’m not surprised; you’ve had a lot to deal with these past couple of months, and most of the pressure of the move has fallen on you, right when you’ve lost your mom. I’m sorry about that. The timing sucks.”