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Ryan will be angry if he finds out, but I don't care. Luke must have some explanation.
I spend far too long picking out a flattering dress, fitted and low-cut enough to demand his attention, casual enough to convince myself I'm not trying at this. My hand is hopelessly unsteady as I apply my usual swipe of brown eyeliner.
Really, Alyssa, why bother? Perfect makeup isn't going to erase his engagement.
I walk the stairs to his floor. My footsteps echo. Why are they so loud? My fluid levels must still be off. That's what happens when you throw up three pints of ice cream.
I knock on the door and it's loud, so loud. Luke lets me inside and envelopes me in a hug. I shouldn't let him touch me. I shouldn't let myself touch him. But his arms feel so warm and safe. His arms feel like home.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “Okay, stupid question. Can I get you anything?”
“Just water,” I say and he brings me a glass.
“Did you ask Ryan to fill you in on the details of my love life?”
“Need to figure out how to cover up your lie?”
“It's complicated,” he says.
“When I say that, you tell me it's bullshit.”
“You're right. It's bullshit,” he says. “But it's true. Are you sure you don't want something else? Tea? Coffee?”
“You have coffee?”
He checks his cabinets. They're almost entirely bare, except for a few boxes of cereal and a few metal tins. “Tea,” he offers again. “Do you like Earl Grey or English breakfast?”
“Just tell me.”
“Okay, Earl Grey. You'll like it. It's strong, but sweet. ”
“Tell me,” I say, and I try not to notice the wounded look in his big, brown eyes. Dammit. I'm supposed to be angry. I'm supposed to demand an explanation. But, one look at those big, brown eyes and I want to wrap my arms around him.
“You saw the pictures when you were here last time, right?”
“Yes,” I say.
“The letters too?”
“Some of them.”
“Then I'll start at the beginning.”
“I don't want the history of your relationship. I want to know if you're still with this woman,” I say.
“Just let me explain everything. Okay?”
He fills a fancy electric water heater. It's the only appliance in his empty kitchen. Dammit, there I go again, feeling sorry for him and his empty apartment.
“Samantha and I met our last year at USC. I was instantly smitten with her. She was so ambitious and passionate about law, and no one is passionate about law by their third year in law school. But, somehow, she liked me, at least for a while. Every few months we'd fight over my apathy or lack of drive, but we'd make up, and things would be good for a while. She let me drag her to indie films. I pretended to understand the poetry books she adored.”
“Luke—”
“I know. I'm getting to it.” The little red light on the water heater switches off. Luke grabs a tin of tea and scoops it into some kind of plastic tea maker. He pours hot water into the tea maker and sets a timer. Five mi
nutes.
“I knew I had to do something to grab her attention,” he continues. “So, after we graduated and took the bar, I asked her to marry me. She said yes. I have no idea why she said yes, but she did, and, even though we’d been growing apart for a while, I was happy.
