But falling in love?
No, that can't be right. There's no way I could fall in love with someone. I'm engaged to Ryan. I am committed to our thoroughly dispassionate, thoroughly practical life together.
Aren't I?
I scour the Classics table, trying get Luke interested in Jane Eyre, but he is unmoved. Not enough action, not enough feeling. Pride and Prejudice is better, he claims, taking delight when I am surprised he's read it.
He reads from a Sherlock Holmes novel, but I am unmoved. It's detached and impersonal.
We go through aisle after aisle, trying to find common ground. I need a story with a lot of feeling. He needs a story with twists and turns. He used to read a lot of hard-boiled detective stories, but he grew tired of their sexism. He says it so casually, like it's something all men notice.
He's read a lot, but I've read a lot more. I never went to college. I didn't finish my last year of high school, but I didn't want to miss out on a proper English education, so I read two books a week for four years straight. I never went so far as to write term papers, but I kept a notebook where I wrote my thoughts. I don't know what happened to it. Ryan probably threw it out when he helped me move into his place.
Luke stops when we finish with the selection downstairs. “There's something I have to tell you,” he says.
“Is it important?”
“Probably,” he says. His eyes lock with mine. His hands slide down my shoulders. “No, forget it. We can deal with that later. You have enough on your mind.”
“I can decide how much I want on my mind.”
“I'll tell you what. We can talk about it next week if you still want anything to do with me.” He takes my hand and leads me up the stairs. “Now, tell me what happened with your show. You don't seem to have left Ryan yet, so he must have changed his mind.”
“I would have taken the role even if Ryan asked me not to,” I say.
“I believe you.”
“I would.”
“I still believe you.” We pass the children’s section, heading for the never, ever popular non-fiction section in the back. It's quieter there, but it's not quite secluded enough for any funny business.
“Is that part of what's bothering you?” he asks.
“A little,” I say. “I'm kind of rusty.”
“Are you nervous?”
“There's a lot riding on my shoulders. And, historically, I don't have a great track record for dealing with stress.”
“That's not a life sentence.”
“But Ryan… he's pretty much expecting me to fail. Any misstep, and it will be proof I couldn't handle it, that I'm not strong enough, all that bullshit,” I say.
“Fuck, Alyssa,” Luke says. “Do you have any idea how messed up that is?”
“It's not like that.”
“Yes, it is. He's rooting for you to fail. Is that the kind of behavior you want in a husband?”
“He's only worried,” I say, but I'm not convincing myself.
“I don't want to talk about Ryan either, but you really can't put up with that kind of stuff. You don't deserve it. My ex… Well, whatever I should call her, that whole thing is royally fucked up, but I was always, always happy for her, even when she was outshining me. Hell, she was always outshining me. She was much smarter than me, and she worked much harder, and she pretty much kicked my ass at every single class we ever took together.”
“Your ex-what?”
“My point is, a guy who really loves you is happy for you. I'm not saying I'm that guy, and I'm sure Ryan does have one or two good qualities that do something to make up for his God-awful personality… but if he doesn't support you, it doesn't matter how funny, or smart, or nice, or rich, or hot—and mind you, these are just examples, Ryan isn't any of those things.”
“He's smart.”