Stir Me (25 page)

"That's not what I meant."

"Is that why you like me? Because I'm your replacement crazy girlfriend?"

I wrap my fingers around her wrist. This time she shakes me off.

"Don't touch me right now," she says.

I lower my voice. "You know that isn't true."

"What do I know? Maybe you saw some other wounded bird you needed to nurse back to health and that was all that mattered. You had a mission--to liberate me from Ryan--and you did it well. So good job."

I grab her wrist. She tries to shrug me off but I don't let go.

"Don't say that," I say.

"Maybe it's true."

My eyes find hers. "If you believe you're nothing more to me than a cheap replacement, then leave right now."

She holds my gaze. Neither one of us is going to back down from this.

My voice is rough. "And if you believe, for a second, that I don't love you, then leave right now."

She takes a shallow breath. Her eyes are on fire, but she says nothing.

"Is that what you believe?" I ask.

"No." She pulls her hand back to her side. "But I'm still not sharing you with Samantha."

"All I'm doing is repaying a debt."

She rolls her eyes.

Anger grows inside me. She understands how this feels. I know she does.

"Don't tell me you've never felt like that," I say.

"So what if I have? I'm still not sharing you with her." She moves to the sliding door and steps into the apartment.

I follow her. "Alyssa."

"You sound like Ryan."

"That isn't some bomb you can drop to destroy a conversation." I take another step towards her. "I'm not going to give up on this that easily."

"And I'm not sharing you with her. End of story." She moves to the table to collect her bag. "You don't even like her. Hell, you probably hate her. You're still holding a grudge against Ryan. How could you not hate her?"

Her back is to me. Her voice is low. She's already out of here mentally. She's already made up her mind.

"I have a grudge against Ryan because he treated you like shit."

She takes a slow breath. "And it has nothing to do with the fact that he used to fuck me?"

"I doubt it was very good."

She laughs, releasing a bit of the tension. "Always cocky, huh?"

"I wouldn't want to disappoint my number one fan."

I move towards her. She backs into the table. Her eyes turn up to me. There's a desperation in them. A need. I grab her hips and press her on the table.

Alyssa's eyes flutter shut. Her teeth sink into her lips. "Luke..." Her legs wrap around my hips. Her nails dig into my shoulders.

I run my fingers over her cheek. "You're not sharing me. I'm yours. All yours."

She shakes her head. Her breath is heavy. She squeezes me tighter.

I want so badly to press her against this table, to show her that I'm all hers and she's all mine. But not like this. Not when she's about to cry.

She pries her eyes open and stares at me. "What if this is the last time?"

I bring my hands to her waist. "It's not."

Her gaze turns to the floor. She sighs, unwraps her legs, and scoots back on the table. "You've done so much to help her. You can be done with her now. It's more than she deserves."

"Sure, but I can't. I'm not going to leave her to kill herself."

"So is she going to be able to play that card forever?" Alyssa looks at the table. "What if the only thing that will make her feel better is your cock inside her?"

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it? It could be late one night, and she's miserable, and she promises, just this once Luke. Please. Just one last time, so she'll feel a little less lonely for a while."

"I'd never do that."

"But would she ask?"

I bite my lip. It's possible Samantha would make some kind of play for comfort sex, but it's unlikely.

I bring my gaze back to Alyssa. "I would never do it."

She sighs, shifting off the table. "This isn't you. You don't let people push you around, and certainly not this transparently. You don't even like her!"

"I know." The second the words are out, I can't deny it any more. I don't like Samantha. I hate Samantha. She betrayed me and held my life hostage for years.

She's still holding it hostage.

"So why are you helping her?"

"I have to repay this debt."

Her eyes find mine. "And when will that be enough?"

"When she's better."

Alyssa looks out the window. "I'm trying here, I really am, because I know you mean well. But I can't do this. I can't be with you unless you let go of this."

"But..."

"From everything you tell me, it's clear she has some kind of serious problem. Maybe depression. Maybe borderline personality disorder. I don't know. I'm not a shrink. And neither are you. Maybe you don't realize this, because you're fortunate enough not to have had any brushes with mental illness, but you can't friendship her out of her sickness. She needs a professional, not a friend, and not a friend acting like a boyfriend."

"I can't just let her kill herself."

"You can't stop her," Alyssa says. "If that's what she really wants, you won't be able to stop her."

"Ally..."

She looks right at me. Her eyes are on fire, but there's something so sad about her expression. "I'm sorry, but I love you too much to share you. If we're going to do this, we need to do this all the way."

"Give it another month."

"I can't." She moves into the bedroom. Without a word, she gathers her things and heads for door. "I hope you come to your senses."

And then she's gone, again. And everything is cold and gray again.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Work does little to distract me from the overpowering dullness that surrounds me. I check in with a few clients, finish a few contracts, glare at Ryan's office from behind my closed door.

I take lunch alone. I talk to no one.

But, come my meeting, I turn on the charm. I have another potential client courtesy of Ryan. He claims she requested me. But it's more likely that he is making it impossible for me to make any kind of clean break from this firm. The more new clients I take on, the more difficult it will be for me to leave.

And he enjoys causing me pain.

Still, I'm going to help Penny. She's young, twenty-five maybe, much younger than most of the women who come here. Most of them have been stuck in bad marriages for their entire adult lives. For years they've been ignored, abandoned, told they don't matter.

But somehow, Penny came to her senses much sooner.

It's not always senses. It's awful men like Ryan, who convince their wives and girlfriends that they are worthless without them. Men like my father, who convinced my mother that leaving would hurt me, that his reputation was more important than her happiness, that her passion was somehow embarrassing.

I hate both the assholes.

Penny has been married for three years, and her husband is already ignoring her. He's given up everything she ever loved about him. And the prenup--a prenup she signed without speaking to a good lawyer, I'm sure–is awful. It's standard. Considered fair by all the other asshole divorce lawyers and their asshole clients.

She's not entitled to much. A one hundred fifty thousand dollar payoff. It's a lot to most people, but it's nothing to her husband. I hate prenups. I know, I'm in the wrong line of work, but I hate them. Marriage is supposed to be a partnership. It shouldn't be about me keeping what's mine and you getting nothing. About me getting everything after you give up your career for mine.

She arrives early. She's dressed nicely. Perfect hair and makeup. The image of a trophy wife.

But there's something weary about her as we make our introductions. This marriage is destroying her.

"We used to ski," she says. "We would fly to Europe for the weekend for no reason at all. He would take me to French lingerie shops and beg me to model underwear for him. He used to make me feel beautiful. Now... he doesn't even look at me."

It's the same old story. I hear it every day, sometimes once an hour. Where do all these men come from and why do they give up on their wives the second things get difficult?

"He was always busy," she says. "But he made a point of sitting with me when he got home from work. He asked me about school. He offered to help with my career. It was never forced. It was only an offer."

"What do you do?"

"Nothing. I studied psychology. He owns a software company. He offered me a job in marketing--a much higher position than I deserved--but I said no. I didn't want to muddy our relationship."

Penny purses her lips. She's trying to stay composed. Lots of women are like this. They hate when people see them cry.

I offer her a tissue.

She takes it, and nods a thank you. Once she's gathered herself she continues. "He was always a workaholic. I should have seen the signs. I should have known."

"Love does crazy things to us. I've overlooked far worse."

"Really?" she asks.

I nod. "You wouldn't believe how awful I am with women."

"You're right. I wouldn't believe that."

She smiles, but it's not flirtatious like it is with other women. Penny is still used to men taking an interest in her. She won't fall for a few compliments. She's friendly. Or maybe she's desperate to feel like she's not the only fuck-up in the world.

"It's true," I say. "I had a chance to have everything I wanted, and I didn't take it."

"Why not?"

Why couldn't I take Alyssa up on her offer? She was right--I'm not getting anything out of this relationship with Samantha. It assuages the uneasy feeling in my gut--the one that reminds me she might leave the world forever if I don't watch her carefully.

Even though I hate Samantha, I want her to be okay. But I don't want her in my life. Not really. Even if it eases my guilt.

I left that bottle of sleeping pills on the bedside table. I knew she might use them. I knew she was miserable. And, I have to admit it, a part of me wanted her to do it. A part of me wanted her to end our mutual suffering.

A part of me wanted to dare her.

"Mr. Lawrence?"

"I thought I couldn't agree to the terms, and she completely refused to negotiate."

"Your girlfriend?"

"I'm sorry," I say. "This is completely unprofessional."

"But now you've got me intrigued. What were the terms?"

"I really shouldn't," I say. "Mr. Knight is out for reasons to lecture me."

"I won't tell if you don't." Another smile.

Maybe Penny is flirting with me. No, it's friendly. She did study psychology. Maybe, once upon a time, she wanted to help people.

"She thinks my ex is in love with me," I say.

"Is she?"

I nod. "But it has nothing to do with me. It's only because she has no one else."

"I'm sure it has something to do with you."

"She wasn't very interested when she had me."

Penny smiles. "Well, you know women. We always want what we can't have."

"Maybe."

"I'm sure women fall in love with you all the time. I mean, look at you. I've only known you five minutes and I'm already enamored." She laughs. "Though your girlfriend doesn't have to worry. I'm still mixed up about my husband."

"I'll let her know."

She smiles. "I guess I shouldn't be giving you advice, since I'm here looking for a divorce. Who could be less prepared to give relationship advice than a twenty-five-year-old divorcée-to-be?"

"You learn a lot about relationships from watching them end."

"Then you should be the one giving me advice." She laughs. It's casual, like we're friends.

I already have her hooked. She's going to sign a retainer at the end of this meeting.

This is almost too easy.

Penny leans a little closer. "But I did study psychology and I would so like to feel useful, so here goes. If you really love her, then you can probably find a way to agree to those terms."

"Probably."

"You sure you don't want to tell me a little more?" she asks. "It would be nice to think about someone else's problems for a minute."

"You've been very helpful."

"Yeah? Maybe I'll end up a counselor." She sighs, relaxing. "You know, my soon-to-be ex-husband always thought psychology was bullshit. Just a marketing tool. He thinks people that go to therapy are weak."

"He's too busy working to think."

"Yeah. He used to tell me what he was feeling, to talk to me." She looks out the window. "He's probably telling someone else now. It's probably something that obvious. Probably an eighteen-year-old intern."

"Penny, if he needs to trade in his gorgeous twenty-five-year-old wife for a younger model, that's his issue."

She laughs. "No wonder Maribel recommended you. You're an incorrigible flirt, aren't you?"

"I plead the fifth."

"And you say your ex has no reason to be in love with you." She shakes her head. "You know, when I spoke to Mr. Knight on the phone, I was expecting some dry conversation about numbers. He wasn't very confident about the prenup."

"Don't pass this on to Mr. Knight, but he's a coward about these things."

"Yeah?"

I nod. "We can think outside the box here. There's always a way to get what you want, even if you have to resort to manipulation."

"Like blackmail?"

"Not legally. More like reminding him that the details of an affair will become public if you two go to court."

Penny smiles. "Okay." She laughs. "I feel ridiculous giving you advice, but the way you lit up when you mentioned your girlfriend--"

"I did?"

"Definitely. It's charming. If I hadn't sworn off men, I'd be madly jealous. The thing is... the more space that came between me and Alexander, my husband, the harder it got to talk to him. What started as a little distance snowballed. And now I feel like he's a stranger."

"I understand." I lean a little closer, really selling the charm. "But we should get back to your divorce. Your husband expects you to walk away with no struggle because of the prenup. I don't know your background, but I'd understand if you thought it was generous. A hundred and fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money to most people, but it's nothing to him. He agreed to be your partner, and he didn't hold up his end of the bargain. Now he's going to pay for it, and he's going to lose the only thing he cares about--cash."