I swallow hard. "Okay."
"I've been in therapy for a while now. I'm trying to improve myself, to be the kind of person you would--"
"Ryan, I'm not... we're not. Not ever." I clutch the drawer behind me, my fingers digging into its fake wood surface.
"Of course not." He says it without any ill will.
Maybe he really has forgiven me. Maybe he really is over it. But that isn't anything like the Ryan I left a year and a half ago. He was a petty, malicious guy. He was the kind of guy who would hold a grudge, who would never forgive someone who betrayed him.
I take another look at Ryan, at those hazel eyes of his. I loved him once. It wasn't the most passionate or the most romantic love, but it was something.
"I'm sorry too," I say. "I shouldn't have carried on an affair like that."
"I appreciate that."
His eyes connect with mine. I must look more alarmed than I think I do, because he softens and takes a step backwards.
"I'm sorry. I don't want to impose on your space," he says.
I shake my head, pulling my robe tighter. "It's okay."
"Are you still with Luke?"
He's so calm, so serene. But Ryan has always been collected.
"Does it matter?"
"It might." He adjusts his tie. "I only want what's best for you."
"You gave up your right to give me advice a long time ago."
"That might be true, but I worry about you sometimes."
What else is new?
My voice is demanding. "Don't."
"I hope I was wrong. I hope that he can handle, well, not handle. But, I hope he... isn't afraid of how hard it is to reach you."
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" I take another step back, hitting the damn vanity again.
"I know it's not my place, but I do worry about you."
"Save it for someone else."
"Alyssa, please. I did love you. I want to help."
My blood surges. So Ryan hasn't changed. He's here to tell me how to live my life. As usual. I open my mouth to scold him, to tell him to fuck off, but I bite my tongue.
I can't deny that I've considered it. I've considered that Luke really can't handle me, even though, yes, handle isn't the right word.
That he's getting tired of me, ready to give up on me.
"You worry about him too," he says.
I nod. I can't bring myself to say it aloud.
"I hope I'm wrong. I hope he loves you enough..."