Alyssa was on the phone with Ryan. At the ass crack of dawn. My fiancée locked herself in the bathroom to call her ex-boyfriend. And she insists this conversation was unimportant.
"You look like you're going to throw up," she says.
I fall back onto my ass. She's staring at me like she's worried. If she doesn't have a good explanation for this...
"I've felt better in the past," I say.
"It didn't mean anything."
"Would you swear on that?"
She holds my gaze for a moment, but breaks to shake her head. "It didn't mean what you think it means."
I'm a reasonable man. I know she wasn't calling him to have hot phone sex. Or to profess her undying love. But they were friends for a long time. There might be something there.
It's possible this has been going on for a long time.
"What are you thinking?" she asks.
"I'm thinking you should put me out of my misery and tell me why you were talking to Ryan."
She nods. So she understands how reasonable this request is. But she bites her lip, turning her gaze to the sky again. Squinting to block out the sun. "I should put my sunglasses back on."
"Alyssa."
"I can't explain it exactly," she says.
"Did you call him?"
"What's the difference?" She crosses her legs. She's still looking at the sky.
"You did, didn't you?"
She shakes her head, but she still won't look at me.
"Why?"
"Well." She takes a long breath. "He visited me in New York. After a show."
"When was this?"
"On the last night."
"So, while I was listening to your friends get drunk, you were having a chat with good old Ryan?"
"I knew you'd take it the wrong way." She shrinks back, just a little bit, still looking anywhere but my eyes.
She's practically afraid of me.
"Okay. Explain to me how I should take it."
"He wanted to make amends." She says it with such earnestness, like she believes this is the truth.
Maybe it is. Maybe Ryan isn't the evil piece of shit I always assumed he was.
I take a deep breath, trying my best not to get angry. Not to resort to calling him names or accusing her of wrongdoing. It's only going to convince her I don't trust her.
"And what did that entail?" I ask.