“You just wanted to fuck me?”
“I didn't think you'd want anything to do with me after that.”
“Do you still love her?” I ask.
“I thought I did,” he says. “Until recently.”
“How recently?”
“Until I met you, and I remembered how it felt to be alive.”
How am I supposed to stay angry when he says things like that?
“Does she know about us?” I ask.
“Since when is there an ‘us’?”
“Does she know we're fucking?” I correct myself.
“No,” he says. “But I'm going to see her this weekend and I'm going to end things officially.”
I sit on his couch and sip my ignored tea. It's sweet, as sweet as my usual coffee, and it saves me from the need to form a coherent response.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” I ask.
“Eventually.”
“I should go. If Ryan finds out I'm here—”
“Don't. Please.” He grabs my wrist, harder than he has before.
“Stop it,” I say.
“Please, Alyssa, I already failed one woman I care about. I can't fail you, too. You need someone and it shouldn't be Ryan.”
“You can't fail me, because we aren't anything. I am with Ryan, and I love Ryan. He takes care of me. He protects me.” Why does my chest hurt? Why does it feel hard to breathe?
“Yes, you say that a lot.”
“I'm not your pity project,” I say. “I can take care of myself.”
“Then why don't you?”
“What do you know about taking care of someone you love? You watched your fiancée slip into depression, and you did nothing to help her. You left her with a bottle of sleeping pills. You knew she was depressed. Were you pissed off she cheated or were you just tired of dealing with her?”
The color drains from his face. I went too far. He loved her. He didn't do it on purpose. But, still…
I'm not his fucking pity project.
I move to the door. This time, Luke doesn't try to stop me.
I try to ignore the heavy feeling in my chest. I've only known Luke two weeks. He won't make me hurt. He won't make me lose control. Not again.
Chapter 20
My body aches and a cup of coffee does nothing to ease the hurt. That look of pain on Luke's face shouldn't affect me. The thought of him sitting in his sad little apartment, by himself, shouldn't affect me. We had a fling. It's over. The end.
He's engaged for Christ's sake.