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My stomach clenches. It's a fair assessment. However much she gives me, I want more, and I'm not shy about making my feelings known.
She takes another breath. "Or worse. That you'll change. You'll get tired of supporting my career, and start encouraging me to stay home, to not take gigs, to close myself off from the world again. And I'll do it, because it's easy and familiar. You'll start to work all the time, until it's the only thing you care about. And our weekends together will become you at the office and me on the couch, hugging my Kindle, wondering how we fucked things up this badly."
"I'm afraid of the same things."
"We're far apart. We're both working too much. But those are just excuses..." She trails off, her voice getting lower and lower.
We're quiet for a moment, nothing in the room except the sound of our breaths.
"How about I try and keep you on level ground and you try and keep me from turning into my father?"
"Okay," she says. She sounds better, like some life has returned to her.
"I'm taking a week off at the end of next month. I'm going to spend it in New York with you."
"But I'll be working the whole time," she says.
"What is that--three hours a day?"
She laughs, and I swear I could float.
"Shut up. Asshole."
"Is it more like four hours?"
"I got the point." She laughs again, the tension melting from her voice. "I will be free most of the morning and day to hang out with you."
My muscles relax as I exhale. This is going to be okay. No, it's going to be great.
"I'll stay out of your hair when you're working," I say. "But when you're not, I'm going to make your days so fucking great you won't be able to stand it."
"What kind of things will you do?" Her voice is soft and sultry.
My body wakes up again. I never did make it all the way out of these stupid clothes. "Maybe I can give you a preview."
"Do you, um..." She lets out a nervous laugh. "Do you want to try Skype again?"
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Alyssa
"That could be arranged." Luke's voice is playful, but there's a heaviness to it. Exhaustion maybe. He's not great at hiding his impatience over my inability to feel ready, whatever that means.
There's not a good way to phrase it, to say don't fucking do this just because you think it's the only thing I want from you. There's not a good way to tell your boyfriend, fiancé actually, that you suspect he is only giving in to your requests for sex to placate you.
I bite my lip. I hate being in my head at a time like this, when the only thing coursing through my brain should be how much I want to get Luke's clothes off.
Sure, he's not really here. The best I can hope for is his voice in my ears and his body on my computer monitor. But I'm still paralyzed by the same damn thought.
He isn't going to put up with my doubt any longer.
"Ally?" It's soft with only a hint of concern. But a hint is more than none.
"Sorry. I was just thinking..." About how fucking crushed I'll be when you get tired of me.
Fuck. A tear rolls down my cheek. It stings, salty and hot. I can't cry. Not now. Not after we had one of those I can be patient, I love you, I don't mind putting up with all your bullshit conversations.
"I'm sure asking if you want to talk will only make things worse." There's no annoyance in his voice.
