“It's over,” I say.
“But do you love him?”
All that hurt bubbles up to my chest, and I stifle a tear. Do I love him? How could I? I barely know him. How could I possibly love someone I've known for months more than the man I've been with for years? How could I ever let myself fall in love with Luke when Ryan has done such a good job protecting me? How could I be so pathetic? How could I be such a failure?
“Why does it matter? It's over. I'm never going to be with him again.”
I'm never going to see the joy in his eyes, or hear his laugh, or feel his fingertips. I'm never going to listen to him go on about Law and Order or mock the honey I put in my coffee. I'm never going to lay my head on his chest, or fall asleep on his couch, or wake up in his arms.
“You don't sound happy about that,” Ryan says.
“I can't survive without you.”
“And that's all this is—you need me to help with your recovery plan?”
“Of course not.”
“What else do you need me for?”
“I'm not strong enough, Ryan. You said it yourself. I'm insatiable. I never have enough. You're the only person who can tell me when I've had enough.”
He moves to the couch and folds his arms, staring out the window at the calm water of the marina. I sit next to him, moving closer, expecting him to stop me. But he doesn't stop me.
“Why did you do it?” he asks, not looking at me.
“I was angry.”
“That's it? You were angry?”
“I needed someone to talk to, and he listened.”
“That's it?”
“He listened and he asked nicely,” I say.
“You're a whore.”
I recoil. He's mad. He has every right to be mad. After all, when I was mad, I went and fucked Luke. Is it really so bad if Ryan calls me a whore? It's certainly no worse than fucking someone else.
But the way he says it, the hatred in his voice…Maybe I deserve the hatred.
“Why did you keep doing it?” he asks.
“What do you want me to say, Ryan? I liked him, okay. I liked spending time with him and kissing him and fucking him. I liked the attention. I liked that he cared about me. I liked that he wanted what was best for me.”
“I don't want what's best for you?”
“You do,” I say.
“Do you not like fucking me?”
“Of course I do.”
“But not as much as you like fucking him?” Ryan asks. There's no way to answer this question. I can't exactly say that Luke is leagues better than Ryan. And I can't deny it, because if I didn't prefer Luke, then what the fuck was I doing having sex with him?
But I did prefer him. I prefer everything about him.
But Luke is already taking care of someone. He already loves someone. He doesn't realize it, but he sees her whenever he looks at me. He doesn't realize it, but he's obviously shit at dealing with fucked up women.