Page 118 of Sparking Sara

“I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can do.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”

“Are you sure about that?” I ask. “I’m no better than he is, Denver. I was a lying cheat myself. I was sleeping with Benny when I was with Oliver. And Oliver and I were just using each other. Who knows what else I was doing. I was a horrible, horrible person.”

“That’s not you anymore, Sara.”

Hot tears roll down my cheeks. “That’s the problem. I don’t knowwhoI am. Listen, I have to go. I’m headed to the airport.”

“Text me your flight details when you know them.”

“Okay. Bye, Denver.”

I don’t text him as promised. But I do buy a first-class ticket and then drink myself into a stupor, hoping I can sleep without dreaming. Without dreaming of deceitful pasts and fake futures. Without dreaming of grey eyes staring into those of another woman.

Chapter Thirty

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry when I see Denver waiting for me on the other side of customs. Our eyes lock, and all the reasons I had for not telling him my flight details just fade away.

I think about how he saved me—again. He saved me from sleeping with Oliver. He saved me from a future full of lies and deceit.

I’m exhausted from the flight. From the second time change in two days. From trying to wrap my head around everything.

And when he walks up to me, I fall into his arms. He doesn’t say a word. He just holds me. I don’t say a word. I just let him. I’ve never felt as safe as when I’m in his arms. I don’t want to let go.

But then I open my eyes and see all the people around us, reminding me of where we are.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. “How did you know what flight I’d taken?”

“Based on the airline listed on the original itinerary you gave me before you left, I looked up all the flights from London to New York and picked the most plausible one.”

I smile at the thought of the lengths he’s gone to in order to help me. Not just now, but since day one. And I didn’t realize how much I needed to see him until I saw him waiting for me.

He grabs my suitcase. “Come on, you must be tired. Did you get any sleep on the plane?”

“A little.”

I don’t tell him that every time I fell asleep, I had awful dreams. Dreams of my life with Oliver. Dreams of Denver’s life with Nora. Dreams of the person I’m finding out I used to be.

We get into the back of a cab and then he hands me a phone. My old beat-up phone, presumably. “I figured you’d want this,” he says.

I look at it hesitantly before taking it from him.

“How much did you go through?” I ask.

“Enough to find out what Oliver had been doing.”

I look out the window at the skyline, mortified that Denver knows the kind of person I was before. And I know enough to know it was the kind of person Denver Andrews wouldn’t be caught dead with.

I turn on the phone and scroll through my pictures and texts, piecing together the last few years of my life. It takes me less than five minutes to be so disgusted with what I discover that I toss the phone onto the seat between us.

He puts a gentle hand on my arm. “You’re not the person you were before, Sara. You have to remember that. You can press charges, you know. What he did to you—deceiving you like that, moving into your apartment without your permission—he can go to jail for those things. Not to mention what he did with the paintings.”

I wipe a finger underneath my wet eyes. “For months, I’ve wanted nothing more than to remember who I was. But now … I just want to forget.” I look back out the window, staring at the other cars as they race by. “I knew I wasn’t the best or the nicest person in the world, but I never imagined it would be this bad. The way I treated people, Denver—it’s unforgivable.”

“It’s not that bad, Sara. So you were a bitch. So what? Lots of people are.”

“And a liar and a cheat,” I say. “I’m no better than Oliver. Maybe we deserve each other.”

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