Chapter 73
Sarah’s legs dragged under the weight of a last-minute weekend nursing shift. It would be at least a year before her book was released. She groaned to herself: another year of this–– a job she had long ago lost the passion for, and scavenging hours to write. All without Charles at her side.
She felt her forehead wrinkle. Where was he? He hadn’t returned her call for seventeen hours now. Maybe he hadn’t got it yet? Or he’d changed his mind about doing the long-distance thing?
The possibility sent an ache through her chest.
Stop being silly, Sarah.
He was busy with Joan. That was all.
She popped her key into the front door and opened it. After taking a step inside and dumping her things on the hallstand, she spotted somebody from the corner of her eye.
Her heart shot to her chest a second before she recognized the intruder. “Paul!”
He smiled, “Sarah.”
She shut the door behind her. “How did you get in?”
“I still have the keys you gave me.”
That would need to be remedied. “Why are you here?”
He grinned, “There’s something important I have to tell you. Sit.”
She frowned, “We are going to talk about your little home invasion, Paul.”
He nodded. Did she catch a hint of agitation behind it? Wasn’t she the only one who deserved to be agitated right now?
“We will, but please, let me speak first.”
She sighed. Too tired to fight, she slunk into the closest sofa.
He claimed the spot beside her.
After drawing in a breath, he locked his gaze on her. “I know you think I didn’t support you when we were together.”
Because you didn’t.
She left it unsaid as he continued, “But I have been making up for it, behind the scenes.”
Her insides felt cold, “What do you mean?”
“All of that free publicity you got . . . that was me.”
The confession took a moment to sink in. She adjusted her position so she could see him better then asked, “You mean, you were the one who leaked the information to the press?”
“That’s right.”
Pride was on his face. He was actually proud of himself!
“But how? I didn’t tell you any of that stuff.”
How could he possibly have been the informant? He only knew about a couple of the incidents that had occurred, such as her bruised face.
He smirked, “No. But your Mom did.”
“What?”
How could her mother betray her like this?
As if sensing her unspoken thought, his smirk widened and he explained, “She didn’t know she told me. I kept our conversations casual and gained information about you without asking outright. I knew if I helped your career along, it would show you how much I supported you. Then I just needed to step back and wait until the right moment to tell you.”
“And you think now is that time?”
“It is.”
He had such a triumphant expression on his face. It was hard to be angry. He’d assumed he was doing the right thing.
She withdrew her gaze. “Look, I understand you thought you were doing the right thing, but there’s no future for us. I’m just not in love with you.”
The air in the room shifted. It seemed heavier, darker, thicker. A shiver tingled down Sarah’s spine.
When Paul spoke again, it came in a sharp snarl. “Then who the fuck are you in love with? Jacques? The man who physically and emotionally abused you? Or Charles? The writer who’s abandoned you?”
“Excuse me?”
He seemed to miss the anger and irritation in her tone when he added, “I’m here. They aren’t. What does that tell you?”
“It tells me that my life and the decisions I make are my business and not yours.”
There was a brief pause.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” His face reddened as he jumped from the sofa and shouted in her face, “I’ve done everything for you.”
She scoffed, “I think it’s time for you to go.”
She managed to leap from her spot and take a step toward the door before she felt a powerful grip on her upper arm. Had Paul just grabbed her? He had. She turned her head and caught his hard, angry stare.
“I’m not leaving.”
She yanked her arm free. “Yes. You are.”
Sensing it was not a wise move to turn her back on him again, she took a step back.
He growled, “You’re making a big mistake.”
Her heart thumped in her chest as her intuition pinged. This was getting dangerous.
She took another step back and screamed, “Get the hell out of my apartment, Paul.”
It happened so fast she had no time to react. His hands were around her neck, squeezing.
He spat, “All I did was love you . . .”
The rest of his words faded in the background as the air in her lungs lessened. She was going to die if she didn’t do something.
Acting on instinct, she lifted her knee with as much force as she could muster. She felt it connect with his groin. His grip loosened, his body slumped, and the air rushed back into her chest.
She spun and reached for the doorknob. At the same time as she went to open it, it swung open.
She squinted at the person standing opposite her, “Charles?”
He started to smile then frowned, “What’s going on?”
She threw her arms around him and stammered, “Paul . . . he tried to kill me.”
“What?”
Charles pushed her arms from around him and was in front of Paul before she could blink. The next instant, he’d landed a fist in the middle of her ex’s nose. Paul slumped to the floor.
“Don’t move.” He turned to face her, “Sarah, call the police.”
Sarah nodded and saw her hand shaking as she reached for her cell on the hallstand.
***
Almost two hours later, Sarah watched in silence from her spot on the sofa as Charles handed her a steaming cup of tea.
She smiled and accepted it. “Thank you.”
He nodded. Concern marked the corners of his eyes as he sat down beside her with his own cup of tea.
She patted his hand, “I’m fine.”
“Even so. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
She took a sip of the tea and placed it on the coffee table. The events of the night replayed. Paul had attacked her. The police had been here. Paul had been taken away in handcuffs.
Charles lowered his cup to the coffee table, untouched.
Peering over at him, she asked, “Not that I mind, but why are you here?”
“I came to be with you.”
“What about Joan?”
“She’s the one who encouraged me to come. Something about a grand romantic gesture or something.”
She laughed and wrapped her arm around his waist.
As she nuzzled into his neck, Charles sighed, “God I missed this.”
“Me too.”
“I want to be able to do this every day. Forever.”
“Me too.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Of course.”
He hesitated in a way that made her look up at him.
Then, he blurted, “In that case, Sarah Woodward, will you marry me?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”
He nodded, “I want you to marry me and come to Germany.”
Before she could respond, he pulled a small box from his pocket and flipped it open. Inside was the most beautiful diamond ring she’d ever seen.
He repeated, “Marry me.”
She squealed, “Yes,” and lunged at him.
He chuckled, “Can I put the ring on?”
“Oh, yes.”
She pulled away and lifted her left hand. He removed the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. She glanced down. It all felt right. Perfect.
With a grin, she nuzzled back into his neck, and made a mental note to buy a German dictionary before she left. When Charles linked his hand into her right one, she felt the other ring she was wearing dig into her palm. Never again, Sarah.
That’s when it hit her. Did she need the reminder anymore?
She unlinked their hands, slid the five-diamond ring from her finger, and placed it on the coffee table. Charles gave her a questioning look when she turned back to him.
She smiled. “I don’t need it anymore.”