"Of course I--"
"I don't want to fight."
I try to take her hand but she pulls it away.
"What are you talking about?" I ask.
She says nothing.
"Ally, what are you talking about?"
She moves off the couch. To the sliding door to the backyard--a big mass of glass blocking out the darkness.
"You can tell me anything," I say. "Even if it hurts."
But she shakes her head. She presses her palm against the glass of the door. I can barely see her reflection. But it looks like she's crying.
Her voice is a whisper. "I'm not in the mood to have some stupid drawn-out conversation."
"Don't be so oblique."
Alyssa turns back to me. She stares at me, her eyes heavy, like they're so full of sadness they're going to burst. "She's in love with you. Why can't you see it?"
"That's ridiculous."
"What about it is ridiculous? You visit her. You dote on her. You soak up all that need of hers. Why wouldn't she be in love with you?"
"She's not."
A tear rolls down her cheek. "I can't keep doing this."
I move towards her. She presses her back into the glass door. But when I wrap my arms around her, she melts. She squeezes me, even as she chokes back a sob.
I'm causing her this pain. I need to stop it.
I move my mouth over her ear. "I love you. Tell me what I can do to make this better and I'll do it."
"It's not about love."
She holds me closer. Tighter. And then, in this horrible, cold, dark room, she unleashes. She cries, blubbering, squeezing me tighter and tighter.
"Ally, let's talk about this."
"She's in love with you, Luke. You're playing her boyfriend and you're playing my therapist, and I can't do it anymore."
"But..."
She takes a deep breath, melting into me a little more. "You need to figure this out. Because I don't think I can be with you if you're always going to be running off to help her."
"She needs me."
"She manipulates you," she says. "She isn't your friend. Your friend would be polite to your girlfriend. Your friend wouldn't spend dinner trying to make your girlfriend jealous. And you think I didn't notice that bullshit with the chocolate cake?"
"Maybe she was being nice."
"Nice? You might not realize this, since your private life isn't visible to anyone with an Internet connection--but she obviously knew about my eating disorder, and she was obviously reveling in it."
Alyssa pushes me. It's soft. A give me space not a get the fuck away.
I step back and bring my eyes to hers. "She wouldn't do that."
She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Luke, but I need you too. At least, I want to. But every time I start to get that feeling in my chest, every time I start to let myself need you, I have to stop myself. I don't know if you'll be around or if you'll be off with her. I don't even know if you'll keep your promises or if you'll be too busy conceding to what she wants."
"Is that about the house?"
She bites her tongue. "I want someplace that feels like home too."
"If I had known you wanted it I would have fought for it."
"I don't believe you."
The dizziness is back. My head is swimming. My limbs are light and weak. I take a deep breath, but it only makes the ground feel further away. It only makes this feel more impossible.
Alyssa is pulling away. I have to do something.
But I can't abandon Samantha. Ending our friendship would be sentencing her to death.
She wipes the tears from her cheeks. I move towards her again, wrap my arms around her again. But there's a coldness to it. She's already made up her mind.
She's already somewhere else.
"Alyssa, please. I want to be with you."
"Until when? What if she tries to kill herself again? Will you be by her side again?"
"She's my best friend."
"Exactly," she says. "She's your best friend. And, if she gets her way, she'll be your girlfriend, so she can keep leaning on you forever."
"Ally..."
"I want to be with you too, Luke, but not like this. Not if you're always going to rush off to save her." She steps away, her back pressed against the glass. "I need some space. To think about this... to figure out if I can really handle it."
"I thought we were done with space."
"Me too."
She moves away from me, towards the couch, towards the other side of the room. She picks up her purse and hugs it to her chest. She looks so small and sad and it's all my fault.
I need to do something now. I need to grab back on to her.
"I want to help you through everything you're dealing with," I say. "You shouldn't have to do it alone."
She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, but I can't. Not if you keep trying to save her."
"Let's talk about this."
Alyssa shakes her head, hugging her purse tighter and tighter. "Are you still her friend?"
"That doesn't matter."
"And are you still going to insist she needs your help?"
"She does."
"Then no," Alyssa says. "We can't talk about it. Because any conversation I'm going to have is going to include some kind of ultimatum." She moves away from the door, wiping tears from her cheeks.
I take the box of tissues off the coffee table and offer them to her. She takes one and dabs it against her eyes gently.
This is the closest I'm getting to her tonight.
Her voice is a whisper. "I sat back idly while you went to rescue her. And really, I was okay with it, because it's who you are. You care too much and you want to help people. But this has gone too far. I'm losing you."
"You'll never lose me."
She shakes her head. "For all intents and purposes, you're her boyfriend. And I'm not going to share you."
"Alyssa..."
"I want to be with you. But not like this." She takes another step towards the door. "Think about it, okay? Because I'm going to get some breathing room, and I'm going to figure out exactly what I want. And when I come back, I expect you to know what you want too."
"I know what I want. I want you."
She shakes her head. "But you want to help her too." She wipes a stray tear from her eye. "Think about it, okay? When I do this, I want to do it all the way."
"Alyssa, stay."
"I'm sorry," she says. "I love you. I hope you can figure this out."
She steps out the door.
And that's it.
The color drains from the room. It's cold and gray and there's no rhyme or reason to any of it anymore.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It was hard before, when Alyssa didn't immediately choose me. It was unfair of me to give her an ultimatum, but I couldn't help it. My stomach twisted in knots every time I thought of her with Ryan. I know it's a dick move to start an affair with an engaged woman then get mad at her for being engaged, but I really didn't mean to fall in love with her.
I never thought things would get that far.
That day, three or four months ago, I pressed her to finally leave Ryan. She recoiled. She wasn't ready.
Even though it killed me, I understood. I understand better now, actually. She really believed she'd fall apart if she left him. That she'd spiral back into her mostly recovered bulimia without him around to keep her in line.
It was a punch in the gut, but it was nothing like this.
I am the walking dead. I drag myself out of bed every morning. I stare at the electric kettle in the kitchen, barely able to force myself to find the teaspoon, to scoop Early Grey into the damn plastic tea maker. I stand there as the microwave timer counts down from five minutes, and I stare at the water as it mixes with the tea, becoming a darker and darker shade of brown.
The beep is always a surprise, every damn morning, but it does nothing to jar me out of this. The tea tastes like nothing. No matter how strong I make it--double
, triple, even quadruple strength--it takes like nothing. Everything around me is nothing. The air isn't warm or cold, salty or sweet, dry or humid. It's nothing. The white walls, the beige carpet, the blinding gray morning sky--it's all nothing. And the nothing washes over me until I am sure it will swallow me whole.
Alyssa is gone and it's all my fault.
It takes all the willpower I have not to call her every morning. She wants space. I have to give her space. I still have a chance. It's a tiny piece of hope, a sickening sweetness in my otherwise bitter day.
She wants to be with me. She said she wants to be with me. Just not like this.
I have to show her she always comes first.
I push back another thought--that sting that screams that I have to choose. I can either repay my debt to Samantha, to help her out of the mess I put her in and lose Alyssa, or I can abandon her and choose Alyssa.
There has to be another way.
Work is agony. I am lost in my meetings. Some other version of me takes over. He is the charming, flirty man all my clients love. He woos them, compliments them, promises them everything they deserve. And then I am back to my zombie self, moving through prenuptial agreements and settlements as if I am simply entering data.
And I am. It's all the same. It's all dull and gray and ugly. It's all nothing.
Even Ryan can't rattle me. He must not know Alyssa is taking space again, because he doesn't gloat or brag. He just offers once again to buy out my half of the business.
But he's living in a fantasy. Ryan is the reason why I feel like this. If Ryan hadn't fucked with Alyssa's head so thoroughly...
He's not getting anything from me. Not anything but a punch in the face.
After work, I run. I run and I run and I run some more, until my heart is pounding and my legs are shaking. Until the sky is dark, and I have no idea where I am. Then I turn around, and I run back to that stupid condo, and I stand in the kitchen, not paying much attention as I somehow conjure up a dinner.
The nights are the worst. I am a zombie again, parked on the couch for hours. I try watching every TV show I've ever enjoyed, but none of them stir me.
I have a drink, or two, or three, but it only makes me sink deeper into this ugly, gray feeling.
I have to give her space, no matter how much it hurts.
I have to give her space, because she loves me, and she knows how much I love her, and she's going to come back. I know she is.
So, instead of calling Alyssa and begging her to hear me out--that won't work, not like this--I call Laurie.
She answers with a triumphant, "Uh-huh."
I can see her smirking, her eyes glowing behind her bright red glasses.
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Hot Lawyer," she says.
I try to fight a sarcastic response, but the sarcasm is winning. "Those are my only two distinguishing characteristics."
"No, there's three. Hot. Lawyer. And asshole who upsets Alyssa..."
"How is she doing?" I ask.
"She was upset for a few days--you know, hiding out in her room and reading, drinking fifty iced lattes in a row."
"Did she talk to you about it?"
Laurie scoffs. "What do you think?"
I suck in a shallow breath. It presses on my lungs, sharp and heavy all at once. "She wants space. I just want to know if she's okay."
Laurie sighs. "Listen, Luke, I'll be straight with you. I like you. You're... different. And you're very attractive, and I can tell Alyssa appreciates that. And I think it's good for her to have a boyfriend who isn't in TV. We're fucking crazy, and we need saner partners to help even us out."
"Laurie--"
"I'm still talking." She clears her throat. "I like you. A lot of things about you are good for Alyssa. You help pull her out of her head, you know? And she really needs that."
I like where this is going, but I can sense that "but" coming.
"Thanks," I say.
"And, when things are good with you two... I've never seen her that happy."
"That's all I want."
"Yeah, me too. Well, for Alyssa." She pauses. "But, when things aren't good with you two, she's utterly miserable. She's despondent. She mopes when you're gone for more than a day or two. She'd deny it, but she does."
"Really?"
"Yeah, she's gotten better. Going to her acting classes, entertaining my dumb ideas about how to get out of the house. She's even taking art classes. Painting or something."
"She didn't tell me."
"Well, you should have asked."
"How is she doing right now?"
"She's okay," Laurie says. "She's staying busy."
"Did she say anything about me?"
"Are you kidding? You're all we talk about." She laughs at her own joke.
It's business as usual.
"Laurie--"
"No, she hasn't said anything. I asked her what was wrong, but she shrugged and said she didn't want to talk about it. I asked how things were with you and she, can you guess--"
"Said she didn't want to talk about it?"
"Bingo!" Her voice drops to a more serious tone. "What happened, anyway?"
"Honestly? I'm not exactly sure."
"Don't be such a fucking guy," she says. "I'm sure you know. You probably just don't want to admit you were wrong."
"It's complicated."
"I'm sure you did something. I can tell you are this nexus of drama. It swirls around you. I mean, you did intentionally start an affair. And you did break up with her when she was on set." Laurie clears her throat. "And if you do anything like that again, I really will kill you."
I know better than to argue with Laurie.
"Can you tell me anything?" I ask.
"Don't get your panties in a twist, okay? I understand that you have strong feelings about Alyssa. But you're not the only person in the world who feels things. I've loved people too. And Alyssa also feels things. She has issues, sure, but I'm sure there's another reason why she asked for space."
"Can you talk to her?"
"No way," Laurie says. "I'm not stepping into that drama hurricane. I'm sure she has her reasons, and I'm sure you have your reasons. There's no way I can help you with this."
"I know. I just hate being away from her."
"Yeah, we all know you're desperately in love." She says it with such annoyance. She's probably rolling her eyes as we speak.
"What the fuck is that?"
"Hey! I'm the closest thing you have to an ally. Don't be rude."
"Okay. Ms. House, can you explain your hostility?"
"That's better," she says. "You don't listen. I just told you that you're not the only person in the world who feels things. You're not the only person in the world who loves people or has needs. I know you care about Alyssa. I know you want her to be okay. And I definitely know you love her and want to be with her."
"But?"
"But you need to listen to her."
"She's told you something," I say.
"Okay, maybe I did pry something out of her." Laurie's voice gets serious. "But I'm sworn to secrecy. And, like I said, I'm not interested in the drama hurricane. No offense, Loverboy, but I'm much more invested in Alyssa's well-being than I am in yours."
"I'm sure there's a way I can tempt you."
"Not unless you can get Fox to offer me seven figures for my latest pilot." She laughs at her own joke, but there is an edge to it. She really is worried about Alyssa.
Maybe Laurie and I can be on the same team. We do have a common goal.
"We both want Alyssa to be happy," I say.
I wait for Laurie's response.
She takes a slow breath. "I'm listening. My patience is running out, but I'm listening."
"And we can both agree that she's happy when she's with me."
"Usually."
"So, don't you think that helping me here would lead to Alyssa's happiness?"
"You can't logic me into helping you. But apparently," she sighs, "apparently, you can
inspire enough pity to get me to help you."
"So?"
"So, you need to listen to your girlfriend. She wants this to work. And I know for a fact that she told you exactly what she needs to make this work."
"You mean..." Deep breath. If Laurie doesn't know about Samantha, she'll freak out at the news. And I might have lost my only ally. But it's a risk I have to take. "You mean Samantha?"
"Yes, I mean your needy, pathetic ex who is ruining your relationship with my best friend."
I'm not detecting much in the way of sympathy here. "Okay."
"So listen to what Alyssa wants and do the intelligent thing. And then give her some time. She's dealing with a lot. No thanks to me. I've been a little crazy about the show, and she's going to do a movie next week."
"She is?"
"She didn't tell you?"
"No," I say.
"Hmm... she probably signed on after this space thing. But it's good. She's excited about it."
"Okay," I say. I press the phone into my ear. "Do you think you can talk to her?"
"And do what?"
"Make sure she's doing okay."
"No way," Laurie says. "I'm not getting in between you two."
"Don't," I say. "Just make sure she's okay."
"Don't be such a guy. Talk to her. I'm sure there's a little more to this than your pathetic bitch of an ex."
"Laurie--"
"Okay, maybe I invented a little backstory in my head. But it was exciting to imagine some kind of crazy fight." She takes a deep breath. "Alyssa is a really reasonable person. I don't think she would leave you hanging if she didn't believe she had to."
"Yeah."
"Maybe I'm wrong and it's just the ex. And all you need to do is cut ties and you'll be okay."
"You sure she didn't say anything?"
"Yeah." Her voice gets higher, reassuring. "But you're a smart guy. I'm sure you can figure it out. Think about what you did, admit you fucked things up, and then unfuck them."
"Sage words."
"I know," she says. "I should write an advice column."
"Thanks, Laurie."
"Don't fuck it up any worse," she says. And she hangs up the phone.
It's not the most comforting suggestion, but it's fair enough advice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
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