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
The 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.