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“How do you know I don't look the other way? Maybe I'm okay with his affair as long as he brings home the bacon?”
“Oh, like you eat bacon.”
But maybe Laurie would understand. Maybe it would feel good to talk about this with someone outside the situation. I usually go to Ryan with these kinds of things. I can't exactly tell him I'm all torn up because I don't know if I should leave him for Luke.
“It's not another woman,” I say.
“Now, we're getting somewhere.”
“I should tell him I'm going to be late.”
She stabs her food again. I dig through my purse until I find my phone. When it finally boots, I am met with a flurry of messages.
Ryan has a lot to say, it seems, and none of it is good. Did Luke say something? Did I leave some evidence somewhere? How did Ryan figure out what's going on?
Oh God, does he still have that GPS app on my phone? Does he still track me? If he tracks me, he might know I was at a hotel. But he can't know I was with Luke, can he?
My breath speeds as I read his messages:
“Where are you?”
“What are you doing?”
“Are you out with some new boyfriend?”
I have a few messages from Luke, warnings that Ryan is mouthing off, in a bad mood.
“Fuck, I have to go,” I say.
“Is it the boyfriend or the other guy?”
“It's not his fault. He's getting suspicious about the someone. I would tell him, but…”
“You aren't sure which of them you want?”
“Yeah.”
“I'll call you a car,” she says, reaching for her phone. “If it ever becomes a big deal, you can crash at my place. Okay?”
“It's not like that,” I insist.
She scribbles her cell on her business card and slides it into my purse.
“It's never like that. Until it is.”
Chapter 25
I look at a text from Luke. “If you don't come to the office, your fiancé might kill someone. I wouldn't be worried, but I'm the only one here.”
My phone dings with another reply. “No, fuck that, don't come here. I'll leave him in his drunken stupor. What does it matter if he puts the pieces together?”
I reply—“what pieces”—as I give the driver the address to Ryan's office.
“We were at a work dinner, and I said something stupid. He's drunk and suspicious, but he's only suspicious.”
“I can handle it.” I reply.
“Jesus, Alyssa, I'm so sorry. I really didn't want you to have to deal with this. I really wanted you to have time to figure it out and leave his sorry ass.”
