Fill Me (25 page)

I'll have to give her an easy out.

"How about we take a break?" I ask.

"I'm fine."

"Yes, but I'm in the middle of paradise. There's beauty everywhere I look." I turn to her. "Especially in front of me."

"Cheesy." She smiles.

"I want to absorb everything."

Alyssa shakes her head. "You don't fool me for a second. But fine." She takes a seat on a short rock.

I find a place to sit near her and bring my gaze to her eyes. She's taking in the scenery with a certain amazement.

She's happy.

I'd hate to destroy that.

She brings her gaze back to me. "What are you thinking?"

"How lucky I am to have you."

"Cute answer, but what are you really thinking?" She brings her fingernail to her mouth, biting it like it has all the answers.

"How lucky I am to be here with you." I shift, but I keep my eyes on her.

"That's very sweet."

"My specialty."

She nods. "I feel that too you know. Lucky that you put up with me."

"Ally... it's not like that."

"Never?" Her eyes turn towards the expanse of sky. Like there's an answer somewhere in the clouds.

"Everyone gets frustrated sometimes."

She shakes her head like she accepts the answer, but she doesn't. There's something off about her posture, a discomfort.

"Are you frustrated I haven't told you about the phone call?"

"If you say it's not important, I trust you."

"We don't always agree about what is or isn't important." She brings her expression back to me for a second, and then her gaze is back on the ground.

Whatever this is, she's afraid to tell me.

"I do trust you." I slide to my feet and kneel in front of her. "I mean it."

She looks down at me and nods. I offer my hand and she takes it. She squeezes it so tightly she nearly cuts off my circulation.

"Do you want to tell me?" I ask.

She nods. "Give me a second." She takes her hands back and runs them through her hair. She adjusts her tank top, her shorts, anything that can serve as an excuse. Then she brings her eyes back to me. "Are you sure you won't get upset?"

I laugh. "Now I know we've had this conversation before."

She nods and looks away again. I bring my hand to her cheek, turning her back to me.

"I mean it," I say.

She takes a deep breath. "It was Ryan. I was on the phone with Ryan."

My stomach drops.

Alyssa was on the phone with Ryan. At the ass crack of dawn. My fiancée locked herself in the bathroom to call her ex-boyfriend. And she insists this conversation was unimportant.

"You look like you're going to throw up," she says.

I fall back onto my ass. She's staring at me like she's worried. If she doesn't have a good explanation for this...

"I've felt better in the past," I say.

"It didn't mean anything."

"Would you swear on that?"

She holds my gaze for a moment, but breaks to shake her head. "It didn't mean what you think it means."

I'm a reasonable man. I know she wasn't calling him to have hot phone sex. Or to profess her undying love. But they were friends for a long time. There might be something there.

It's possible this has been going on for a long time.

"What are you thinking?" she asks.

"I'm thinking you should put me out of my misery and tell me why you were talking to Ryan."

She nods. So she understands how reasonable this request is. But she bites her lip, turning her gaze to the sky again. Squinting to block out the sun. "I should put my sunglasses back on."

"Alyssa."

"I can't explain it exactly," she says.

"Did you call him?"

"What's the difference?" She crosses her legs. She's still looking at the sky.

"You did, didn't you?"

She shakes her head, but she still won't look at me.

"Why?"

"Well." She takes a long breath. "He visited me in New York. After a show."

"When was this?"

"On the last night."

"So, while I was listening to your friends get drunk, you were having a chat with good old Ryan?"

"I knew you'd take it the wrong way." She shrinks back, just a little bit, still looking anywhere but my eyes.

She's practically afraid of me.

"Okay. Explain to me how I should take it."

"He wanted to make amends." She says it with such earnestness, like she believes this is the truth.

Maybe it is. Maybe Ryan isn't the evil piece of shit I always assumed he was.

I take a deep breath, trying my best not to get angry. Not to resort to calling him names or accusing her of wrongdoing. It's only going to convince her I don't trust her.

"And what did that entail?" I ask.

"I didn't fuck him," she says. "In case you were wondering."

"I assumed."

She folds her arms in irritation. "I barely hugged him good-bye."

"Ally, I believe you weren't physical with him."

Finally she brings her gaze back to me. She's studying me. Probably deciding if she trusts me enough to explain.

I take another deep breath. I need to be someone she can trust, someone who won't overreact. "Okay. Why don't you tell me why this is bothering you?"

She nods. "It will sound stupid."

"I'm the king of stupid."

She cracks a tiny smile. "He said about what I'd expect. He apologized for being an asshole way back when. He said he wished me the best. That he forgave me for everything."

"I'm guessing you weren't calling him this morning begging for more forgiveness."

Her eyes find mine. There's shame in her expression. She's ashamed of whatever it is she was doing with Ryan that wasn't sex.

"Ally, you're killing me here."

"He said something in New York that really got to me. Something about how he really hoped you could handle how difficult it is to reach me." Her voice gets low and soft. "The last three months... you weren't exactly trying to reach me."

"I know. I'm sorry."

She shifts out of the sun so she's turned away from me. "I had to know if he meant it. If he really thought being with me was that miserable."

"And?"

"He said he'd never manipulate me. On purpose."

"I doubt he would call it manipulation."

"Can we not start about Ryan?" she asks. She shifts off the rock and unfurls on the ground.

She didn't sleep last night.

"Okay. We won't start." I lay down next to her. Push the hair from her eyes.

She looks more tired than anything.

"But I need to know why you didn't tell me about Ryan."

"I knew you would overreact." She stretches her arms over her head and closes her eyes.

"You know everything, don't you?"

"Luke... Don't start."

"Then tell me what the fuck is going on. Why are you talking to Ryan about our relationship?"

"I wasn't," she says. "I was talking to him about my relationship to him." She opens her eyes and looks straight at me. "As I recall, you spent a lot of time talking to Samantha, that's your ex-fiancée by the way, about your relationship with her. In fact, I recall her trying to kill herself and you rushing to her hospital room. You were with her for weeks."

One week. My ex-fiancée tried to kill herself, and I spent a week with her. To make sure she was okay. Eventually, she overstepped the boundaries of our friendship. Hell, she begged me to leave Alyssa for her. But I ended her friendship the minute she...

Okay. Shortly after she overstepped her boundaries.

"And?" I ask.

"I deserve a little bit of the same leeway."

I bite my lip. Maybe she's right, and she deserves a bit of leeway. She wanted closure with her ex, fine. But she should be talking to me about this.

"Okay. But if you're afraid I can't reach you, that I'm not willing to try, then why aren't you talking to me about that?"

She leans back, her eyes on the sky. "How could I?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Alyssa

Luke makes a few stabs at prying my feelings out of me, but I'm too damn tired to talk about it anymore. Yes, I have doubts, but doubts are normal. Yes, I neglected to tell him about Ryan, but...

I was right. He did overreact.

And, yes, I called Ryan this morning. I called him secretly and I had no real intentions of telling Luke about it. But it wasn't really about Luke. It was about me and Ryan. And I should be allowed to talk to the person who was my best friend for my entire adolescence.

So I ask if we can save the conversation for when I've had more sleep, and I fall into a fitful nap on the top of a mountain. Luke holds me the entire time, probably terrified I'll roll off a cliff into oblivion. But we're already so close to oblivion. What's really the worst that could happen at this point?

After a quiet walk back to the car--mostly downhill, thank God--we drive in silence. It's well into the afternoon at this point, but I have no clue where we're going, what our plan is.

The narrow, windy roads seem to stretch forever. Thank God Luke is driving. I'd probably steer right off the side of the road. If I could even manage to keep my eyes open for long enough to drive.

Once we're back in civilization, Luke pulls into the parking lot of a mall. Of course, even in paradise, there are plentiful malls.

He looks me over, carefully, like I really am about to break. I'm sure I look like shit, like I really about to explode into a million pieces. But it's still damn obnoxious.

"How about an early dinner?" he offers.

I nod okay, and I don't bother to make a comment about how we're skipping lunch. The sarcasm would do nothing to convince him I'm healthy. That I'm worth reaching. That I'm really going to talk to him when my energy is better.

We stop at a Vietnamese noodle shop. It's a tiny place in a strip mall, packed with plastic tables and chairs. There are mirrors all over the walls, but I try to avoid them. I'm not at my best at the moment.

We take a seat at a table by the door. We're the only customers in the whole shop, but the server hangs back by the kitchen, chatting with one of the cooks.

Luke scans the menu. "They have Vietnamese iced coffee."

"I thought I was overcaffeinated and dehydrated."

"Has that ever stopped you before?"

His voice is soft, almost like he's forgotten everything I said on the hike, like it isn't killing him that I had some secret conversation with Ryan at the crack of dawn.

We pore over our menus for a while. I pick out something that won't overwhelm me--chicken and vegetables in some kind of white sauce.

When I look up, Luke's eyes are on me. There's so much concern in his expression, but he keeps his mouth shut.

The server stops by and we place our orders. My main concern is water. Lots and lots of water. I shut my eyes until we have our drinks.

Luke has a Vietnamese iced coffee. It's in a parfait glass and it's swimming in whipped cream. Not something I would ever order. But still, when he offers me a sip, I take one.

It's sickeningly sweet, but there is something satisfying about it. Like it could chase away every inch of pain in my body. I nod thank you, and pass the drink back to him.

I focus on my water. After half a dozen glasses, I finally regain my senses. Whatever happens, it's nice to be here with Luke in the middle of paradise. It's nice to sit across from him at an empty ethnic restaurant, trying out some food I've never had before.

We talk a little about the trip, about Hawaii, about life back in Los Angeles. But we're still dodging everything important. Even Luke is careful not to tread on any subject that could be a damn land mine.

I have half a mind to let everything out. To say fuck it, and demand a better explanation for why things have been so difficult, but I don't. I talk about the weather, about movies, about the mystery I'm reading on my Kindle. I'm certain the ex-husband did it, but there's no telling, really.

After lunch we duck into the mall's movie theater. Nothing good is playing, but it's nice to sit in the air conditioned room with Luke's arms around me. I fall asleep in his lap, and when I wake up the credits are rolling and he's staring at me like I'm the adorable puppy he just got for Christmas.

Back in the car, he asks how I'm feeling. "Do you think you're ready to talk yet?"

I shake my head. "Maybe later."

He nods, but there's a sadness to it. Like it kills him I won't spill my guts right there in the passenger seat. Like I'm still not enough for him.

Like I am just too damn difficult to reach.

***

Back in the hotel room, we shower, dress, and retire to the balcony. We're on the second floor, surrounded by nothing but stars. The ocean is a few hundred feet away and gentle waves roll onto the beach with a soft rhythm. It's dark and breezy, but it's warm and humid and sweet all the same.

Still, I shiver in my skimpy pajamas, leaning against Luke for warmth. He wraps his arms around me, presses his lips into my cheek. He leans towards me, his breath on my ear.

"I love you," he whispers.

He means it. I know he means it. I know he loves me, wants me, needs me as desperately as I need him.

He loves me.

But he's not convinced that will be enough.

I meet his gaze. His eyes are wide, sincere, full of that trademark Luke Lawrence concern. How can he look so happy and worried at the same time?

His lips curl into a smile, but it doesn't light up his face. Not the way it usually does. He brushes his fingers against my chin, holding my gaze.

"I'm tempted to repeat myself." His voice is soft. Almost defeatist.

There's a heaviness in my chest, like the weight of all this is going to crush me into a million tiny pieces.

But I say nothing. He moves closer, wrapping me in a hug, squeezing me so tight I think I might burst.

But he says nothing.

I pull back. I'm tempted to apologize, to convince him to find someone who will be what he needs, to convince him that I'm that someone, that everything will be better, easier.