Fill Me (24 page)

Luke will be jealous if he finds out. He'll misunderstand. He'll think it's something different than it is.

I move to the bathroom and lock the door behind me. It's not a secret. I'll tell him later. But I can't deal with an inquisition right now. Not after dodging sleep all night.

I dial.

A few rings and Ryan answers. "I hope it's you and not your jealous boyfriend."

So he's not wasting any time with pleasantries.

"It's me. And he's my fiancé."

"I remember." His voice is steady, like he's remembering a pasta dish has mushrooms. Like this means nothing to him. "Do you any clue what time it is in Los Angeles?"

"Later than it is in Hawaii," I say. "And I'm sure you're in the office by now."

He almost chuckles. So he is in the office.

"If you're calling me at five a.m., that vacation must be going well," he says.

"It's complicated."

"It's never complicated, Alyssa. That's just a convenient excuse for behaving inappropriately."

Jesus, I've heard some bit of that lecture at least a hundred times. I take a deep breath, trying to fight off a rush of memories. Ryan has always been a condescending asshole, but he was well-intentioned once upon a time.

"I'm only calling to talk," I say.

"And what are you calling to talk about?" he asks. It's not impatient or harsh, but there's a certain immediacy to it. A demand that I explain myself right away.

"Us."

"Don't be vague. It irritates me." It's still flat, like he's expressing a distaste for those mushrooms. Not like he's mocking my apprehension.

I press my fingers into the phone. "All that stuff you said the other night--was it bullshit to fuck with me or did you mean it?"

Ryan sighs. "I'd never manipulate you on purpose."

I take a deep breath and hold it in my lungs for as long as I can. "I have to ask you something and I want you to be honest," I say.

"Okay." He's still so calm and collected. So Ryan.

"Why did you ever want anything to do with me?"

"Back in high school or after?"

"Both," I say. I press my nails into my thumb until I can't take the pinch. There's a lot of painful history between Ryan and me, and I'm not too keen on reliving it.

"I wanted to help you," he says.

"Why?"

"Because no one else would."

I bite my lip. It's not like I ever doubted Ryan started a friendship with me out of pity. I was pitiful back in high school. No prospects. No friends. Nothing but guys who wanted to get their hands up my shirt.

"And what if someone else had helped me?"

"I still would have helped you. I saw something in you. A potential."

"To be your trophy girlfriend?"

"Alyssa, if I had wanted to make you my girlfriend when we were in high school, I would have done it."

"Why didn't you want to?"

"We were from two different worlds. My family wouldn't have approved." He almost sounds like he regrets it. "Maybe if you hadn't been--"

"Such a pathetic mess?"

"Don't do this to yourself," he says. It's almost kind. Like he really cares about my mental health.

"So you were waiting until I'd blossom into a good trophy wife."

"Partially," he says. "But I did care about you. I'd be an idiot not to realize you're beautiful and a bigger idiot not to realize you'd make an excellent wife."

"What kind of sixteen-year-old thinks about his future wife?"

"I told you. I wanted to help you. I didn't think about marrying you until we were both in L.A. It only seemed natural then. You needed my help, and I needed someone too."

"Someone to show off."

"So what? You needed someone to take care of you. I needed someone to show off. It was a mutually beneficial relationship."

I take a deep breath. "I'm not hearing a lot about how you truly loved me."

"I'm not going to insult your intelligence. I loved you, yes, but our relationship was never about love." His voice gets softer. "Maybe that was wrong. If you are in love now, I'm glad. I do want the best for you."

"Why are you being nice to me?"

"It's the least I can do."

The room is spinning around me, but I'm sure it's because it's so damn early, because I've barely slept. "Would you have been with me if I wasn't beautiful?"

There's a pause. Finally a question Ryan doesn't have the answer to. I almost forgot how hard he is to rattle.

"No," he says. "I did care for you, but I have expectations to live up to."

My stomach drops, but it's not like this is a revelation. Ryan always made it clear I needed to look a certain way, that I needed to play my part.

"Alyssa, you're torturing yourself. I cared about more than your looks. I still do."

"Oh, like my career? You were so supportive there."

"I was trying to help you. I pushed too hard, yes, but you must understand why. You must understand how scary it was to watch you destroy yourself."

Help. Like getting me to do everything he wanted. Like putting his career ahead of mine. Like ordering me to stay in the cocoon of our apartment so nothing would hurt me.

Nothing but him.

"I did love you."

"I heard you the first time," I say.

I press my hand against the marble counter. It's so cold. It's warm and sticky outside, but the marble is so damn cold.

"Do you really love Luke?" Ryan asks. "Are you really happy?"

"Yes."

"Then talk to him about whatever it is that's really bothering you."

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Luke

Alyssa isn't in bed. It's early--light enough outside that the sun is just rising--and she's nowhere to be seen.

The light in the bathroom is on. It's probably nothing, but still, I roll out of bed and move towards the closed door.

There's sound in there, a conversation. She's on the phone. In the bathroom.

It's not
that
unusual. This room is huge and open. The sound travels. She probably doesn't want to wake me.

I press my ear against the door, but I can't quite make out what she's saying, or who she's talking to.

"Are you okay?" I knock on the door.

"Fine," she says. She mumbles something into the phone and opens the door.

Her eyes find mine. There's something in her expression--guilt or concern or embarrassment.

"What was that?" I ask.

"It's not important." She moves out of the bathroom and takes a step towards me. "It's really not."

"Humor me."

Her eyes turn towards the windows. It is gorgeous outside--the purple sky is streaked with yellow light.

Alyssa brings her gaze back to me. "Can we talk about it after I've had some coffee?"

I nod and look at her a little closer. There are dark circles under her eyes and she's pale. I know that look.

"Did you sleep last night?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "Too many time zones. But it's fine. I just need coffee. A lot of coffee."

"You sure you don't want to spend a few hours in bed?"

She nods. "I'd much prefer coffee."

***

We have a slow breakfast. Alyssa drinks cup after cup of coffee, but none of them bring her any closer to explaining what happened this morning.

I know better than to press her by now. Something is wrong, yes, but she'll tell me when she's ready.

I have to respect her boundaries, no matter how much I want to pry this out of her.

So I talk about last night. I talk about work. I talk about the Oscar bait movies that are playing in every theater in Los Angeles.

She's responsive, even though it's obvious she's tired. I suggest we opt out of our original plan for the day--taking a long, difficult hike--to do something that won't exhaust her. But she refuses.

"You haven't slept in twenty-four hours," I say.

"I'm fine," she says. "Great even."

But she certainly doesn't look great. She looks ragged, though it's unclear if her exhaustion is from lack of sleep or from whatever it is she's hiding.

Don't get me wrong. Even tired, Alyssa is gorgeous. There's something so pleasant about looking at her, hearing her, just being near her.

I'm so damn lucky to have her. Even if she is hiding something.

"You're going to pass out from dehydration after all that coffee," I say.

"Are you a lawyer or a doctor?"

"Technically, a law degree is a doctorate."

She rolls her eyes, but there's a joy to it.

"I'll laugh my way to the bathroom," she says. She pushes away from the table and makes her way to the restaurant's bathroom.

It crosses my mind for a split second--
what if she's purging
--but I shake it away. She's been doing better for a long time. And she'd tell me if she was struggling.

She would tell me.

We've been together for the last two weeks. There's no way she'd be able to hide a relapse.

I take a long sip of my tea. I'm getting worked up over nothing. I need to calm down, so she'll feel comfortable talking to me.

Alyssa returns to the table. She looks at me as she slides into her seat. She's really studying my expression.

"Don't tell me..." She shakes her head like she's disappointed in me. "And here I thought you finally trusted me."

"You're not talking to me."

"I was not in the bathroom throwing up. That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?"

"I didn't think otherwise." I take a deep breath. I can stay calm here.

She didn't sleep last night. She's tired. I don't mind putting up with a little crankiness. A cranky Alyssa is much better than anyone or anything else.

"If I didn't trust you, I'd be throwing a fit about that phone call."

She bites her lip. She knows I'm right.

She packs her purse and takes one last sip of coffee. "Let's go."

I nod. Hiking while exhausted seems like a terrible idea, but I do trust her.

***

Our morning hike is supposed to be difficult. It's two and a half very steep miles. I explain the path to Alyssa on the drive, but she is not deterred in the least.

She rolls her eyes at me. "I thought you were in shape with all that tactical bodyweight training bullshit."

It's either make a sharp U-turn or accept that she'll be fine hiking up a steep cliff after getting no sleep.

"You look like you're about to jump off a bridge." Alyssa pokes my shoulder. "I really am okay."

"I believe you."

She shifts, pulling her legs to her seat and crossing them. "It doesn't seem like it."

I focus on the narrow road. We're almost there. It's going to be fine. "I do. I'm just... I worry about you."

She says nothing, but I can feel her reaction over here. She hates that I'm worried about her. She hates when anyone is worried about her.

"People worry about each other, Ally. It's normal."

"I didn't say anything."

"I know what you were thinking."

I pull into the parking area of the hiking trail. This whole place is beautiful--lush green everywhere and a view of the ocean for miles. There's no reason why this won't be a nice morning.

"Do you know what I'm thinking right now?" It's a challenge, an irritation.

I park the car, unbuckle my seat belt, and turn to Alyssa. "Knowing you, it's probably NC-17."

"Very funny."

"You have to admit. I look sexy as hell in my shorts," I say.

She shakes her head but she's grinning. "I care about things besides fucking you senselessly."

"Fucking me sense-fully?"

"Smug bastard." She laughs, shaking her head in some great release of tension. "Sorry. I guess I'm a little cranky."

"You're cute cranky."

She leans towards me until she's only a few inches away. Her eyes find mine. Damn, those are such gorgeous eyes.

She smiles, the tiniest thing, and slides her arm behind my neck. I lean into her, pressing my lips into hers.

When she pulls back, she brings her eyes back to mine. She looks at me for what feels like forever. It's like she's finding something in me, figuring something out.

"I do appreciate the concern," she says. "But I'm not going to break."

"I know."

She nods, reassured, and gets out of the car. I follow suit.

The scenery is even more gorgeous without a window in the way. There's blue sky and ocean for miles, and the hiking trail is something straight out of paradise. It's the most vibrant shade of green over mountains and valleys. It's life, everywhere.

I take Alyssa's hand and we make our way up the steep trail. It starts off simple enough--a straight dirt path going up a mountain. We walk slowly at first, taking in the sights, the warm breeze, the feeling of being ensconced by nature.

Alyssa stops at the peak of this curve of the trail. She turns back to look at me. There's such a joy in her expression. For a minute I forget that we've spent the last few months falling apart, that she's having secret conversations on the phone at the crack of dawn, that we're going to have to deal with this impossible distance.

The trail slopes down and starts to wind. There's a mountain to the left, and it's covered with layers and layers of vines. It's so green and so overgrown, it nearly blocks out the sky. To our right is a long valley. Tiny green bushes and tall, thick trees with deep, knotty roots.

"Come on, Grandpa. I don't have all day." Alyssa rushes ahead.

She's moving fast, almost running. I pick up the pace and catch up to her. She's tired, a little out of breath, but she is holding up fine.

I was worrying for nothing.

We hike for a long time. There's so much to take in. This place is so different from anywhere we've ever been together. Hell, anywhere I've ever been. It's pure, untouched jungle. It's secluded. It's perfect.

The morning turns to afternoon. The sun rises, until it casts a soft glow over everything.

We don't stop until we come to a sharp batch of rocks. The only way up the rest of the trail is climbing. Alyssa eyes them with trepidation, but she won't admit she's scared.