"I want all of it," I say. "I want to eat breakfast with you, and text you on my breaks, and eat dinner with you every night."
"Awfully fixated on meals there."
"It's not about your... problem."
She gives me that look. That
really?
look. "My eating disorder?"
I nod. "It doesn't have anything to do with... your eating disorder recovery." I brush a hair from her forehead. "I see a future for us. I see us building our lives together, buying a house, picking out furniture, arguing over how to decorate the bathroom."
"Hot pink of course."
"Hot pink is perfect." I run my fingertips over her arm. "I want to travel with you, to run around Europe watching you sip espresso in Italy, outraged over why I can't find a decent cup of tea in the entire country. I want to watch you agonize over what outfit to wear."
"I don't agonize."
"Geez, Alyssa. I'm trying to be romantic."
"I know, but you shouldn't misrepresent me in your fantasies."
"I've seen you agonize," I say. "On occasion."
She looks up at me and looks away. She's nervous. "What are you saying?"
"I don't want you to hear this as an accusation, but you act like we're still sneaking around."
"No."
"We hang out here or at Laurie's. You refuse to go out for dinner. And it's not about food. You refuse to go out for coffee with me, and I know you'll drink coffee anytime, anywhere. You'll take walks around the marina, but only around the marina."
"I like hanging out here."
"I know you're not ashamed to be with me..."
"It's not you." She bites her fingernail. "It's Ryan... because I... well, you were there when I was cheating on him."
"Can't we get past that?" I ask. "Don't get me wrong. I love spending time with you here, but I need more than that. We both do."
She bites her fingernail, her eyes once again turning to the pool. "Like what?"
I wait until she meets my gaze. "You could move in here."
"Into your ex's house?"
"We can get a new house."
"Luke..."
"Okay, I get it. It's only been a few months. I shouldn't move so fast. But I feel like we're on hold. Do you..." Fuck, what if she says no? She could break my heart. "Where do you see this relationship going?"
She looks away, at the dark blue sky outside the windows. "Somewhere great." She looks back to me. "But not yet."
"When?"
"Sometime in the future."
"When in the future?"
"A year, maybe."
That's an eternity.
She turns back to me, her eyes clear and bright. "I love you, Luke, and I want to be with you. But I didn't do this relationship thing well before. I made Ryan my whole world. I relied on him so much, I didn't think I could survive without him. I can't do that again."
"I won't let you."
She runs her hand through my hair. "I'm still here. Just not all the time."
"But I want you all the time."
Her hands are on the back of my head. She pulls me closer, until we're almost kissing. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Not unless I fuck it up."
"Not unless you fuck it up," she says. She laughs, and she kisses me again. Her hands dig into my hair.
I try to shut all this out, to feel nothing but her lips and her body under mine. Alyssa is with me now. I have her now. She's intelligent, articulate, thoughtful, and she's mine.
She's perfect, and she's mine.
But it's not enough. I need more of her, all of her, all the parts she wants to keep hidden.
CHAPTER TWO
I know it's fast. It's only been a few months. It's not that I doubt her when she tells me it's not personal. Ryan was an asshole--he's still an asshole--and I have no doubt being with him fucked with her head.
It's not like I was in the world's greatest relationship before.
But I want her so much. How am I supposed to wait until she's ready? That might be months or years.
I can't keep waking up without her. I can't keep rolling over on my king-sized bed, the emptiness of it mocking me as I flop onto my face.
Being with Alyssa is like nothing else. Before her, my life was lacking something. It had been lacking something for years.
It started when my mom died.
I was seventeen, barely seventeen. A stupid kid, really. A stupid kid with no clue of how good I had it.
It was late one night or maybe early one morning--that in-between time. She and my father had been fighting for hours. Mostly him treating her like shit, assuming her opinion had no value. He'd never admit it, but he assumed everyone else's opinion had no value. I remember hearing my name thrown around, and slamming my bedroom door shut so I could plausibly deny they were fighting over me. Again. I'd done something stupid to piss off my father--I lived for doing stupid things to piss off my father--but Mom was sticking up for me. She always did.
I was in my bedroom, the black sky bouncing off my white walls, my room a stupid shade of gray. I could only hear them, but I knew exactly what it looked like. I knew the look on my mom's face, the sheer frustration, the contortion of her forehead as she choked back tears. She never would have stayed with him if it weren't for me. She would have left him years before. This never would have happened if it weren't for me...
He screamed. She fought back the way she always did, trying so, so hard to stay calm and not show any of the emotion he'd mistake for weakness. Finally, she had enough. I heard the front door slam, her car turn on, the tires screeching as she rushed out of our godforsaken neighborhood.
It was foggy that morning. That night. Whatever it was. But it was always foggy. She should have been used to it. She would have been okay if she hadn't been crying. If she hadn't been upset.
The police were at the door a few hours later. The sun was just peeking through the horizon, illuminating the vibrant green lawns, the pure azure ocean. The whole damn sky was filled with color.
I knew what had happened from the look of pity on their faces. The words were murky. "I'm sorry, son, but your mother was in an accident. She didn't make it."
And all the color drained from my world. Everything was dull and dim. Their words were a jumbled mess in my ears. I couldn't stand there, but I couldn't leave with them on the porch. So I waited until they went inside to talk to my father, and then I ran.
I ran barefoot, in my fucking pajamas. I ran until the sun was high in the sky. And, even though I knew the sky was no doubt blue, again, everything was still gray.
I ran until my legs gave out, and I collapsed under some overgrown tree, and I curled into a ball and cried.
Manly, I know.
It's not like I spent the next ten years numb and empty. But, somehow, the colors were never as sharp. Food never tasted as good. There was always something missing, some awful gray dullness to the world. I was with other woman before, and I was happy, but there was still something so drab about my life.
And then I met Alyssa.
She stared at me, sizing me up, so bad at hiding how much she wanted me. And, I can admit it--I was there to mess with Ryan. I wanted to flirt with her, to rub it in his face. A nice revenge for existing as such an awful human being. A nice revenge for rubbing his relationship with Alyssa in my face every chance he got. It was always my
gorgeous
girlfriend. As if I cared that his girlfriend was gorgeous.
But the second she opened her admittedly gorgeous mouth, I was hooked. She was so smart and articulate and so humble about it. And even though she'd just met me, even though she clearly wanted to fuck me, she called me on my bullshit. She called out my obvious ploy to fuck with Ryan. She called me on assuming she was vacuous. She even corrected my grammar.
Then I touched her, and the most delightful red flush spread across her face. It was so bright and vibrant.
It was like the color was finally back in my life.
I always want more of her. Everything is better when she's around--the air, the music, the food. Even me. I'm so much smarter and kinder and more honest when I'm with her.
I know it's early, but I see a future with her and it's vibrant and bright.
I see her lying next to me at night, her soft body pressed against mine, her arms wrapped tightly around my chest. My T-shirt--the one she claimed as her own--drapes softly over her curves. In the morning, she stretches out on the couch with her Kindle and a cup of coffee. I can smell the coffee on her breath, taste the honey on her lips. I feel the nerves in my body turning on, everywhere all at once, just from her hands on my skin.
I know it won't be that perfect. I know we'll have fights, we'll have bad days, we'll have miserable shit in the rest of our lives. But it can be that good. We can be that good.
I really meant what I said. I'd marry her today if she'd have me.
***
Mrs. Pike is immaculately put together. She's the kind of woman who has spent her entire marriage immaculately put together. One of those wives who serves as a very special kind of trophy--beautiful, educated, conservative. Usually, by the time these women make it to my office, they've lost interest in being the symbol of their husbands' good taste and manners. Or their husbands have gained interested in a younger woman.
But Mrs. Pike is still immaculate in her freshly pressed suit and her small silver earrings.
"I should have known better," she says. "I did. I knew this would happen, even when we got married. I thought I could look the other way. I have a good life, Mr. Lawrence. I have a beautiful home. I have all the money I could spend."
"How old were you when you married him?"
"Twenty-two," she says.
"You had no idea what you were giving up. You can't blame yourself. No one has their life together at twenty-two. It's a terrible age."
Mrs. Pike smiles, but it's short lived. "I was in graduate school. And he asked about my thesis. He pretended like he wanted to hear about it."
She's miserable over this mistake. She's too miserable. If she believes it's her fault, she won't ask for the settlement she deserves. She'd be an easy client for any other lawyer--a few billable hours to agree to whatever her husband offers.
But I know what she deserves. She deserves half of everything they made together.
Right now she needs someone on her side. She needs someone who will listen to her.
"What did you study?" I ask.
"Literature."
This is exactly how Alyssa would have ended up if she'd stayed with Ryan. She'd have spent her life ignoring her wants and dreams, instead playing the role of the perfect trophy wife.
"Not enough people appreciate literature," I say. "Where did you go to school?"
"Columbia."
"What a show off."
She finally smiles. "Mr. Lawrence--"
"You can call me Luke."
"Okay, Luke. I want to take care of this quietly and quickly."
"California is a community property state. You're entitled to half of his assets."
"I don't care about the money."
"Mrs. Pike."
"You can call me Kate," she says.
She's hooked. She's going to sign a retainer at the end of this meeting. I almost hate how easy it is to charm these women. All I do is listen to them, remind them they're valuable human beings, and they're hooked. They'll sign anything I put in front of them. All it takes is fifteen minutes of care and attention and they trust me.
"Okay, Kate. I understand your position. Your husband provided for you. It was a sacrifice, but it's the smallest sacrifice he could offer. It's only money. You've given up years of your life. How long have you been married?"
"Twenty years."
I lean in towards her so she can feel the full weight of my words. "I'm sure men have been interested in you."
She nods.
"But you were faithful, because of your vows."
"Yes," she says.
"You could have lived somewhere less awful than Los Angeles."
She laughs. "I wanted to stay in New York."
"And you gave up your career to raise your daughter. Isn't that right?"
Finally, Kate gives me a real smile. "She's fifteen. She's such a sweet girl. I know she's old enough to decide if she'd rather live with me or her father, but I want full custody."
"We'll get it."
Her face brightens. I see this a lot--she's mostly concerned with her daughter. It's sweet, yes, but she's leaving too much on the table. We can get custody and get half his assets.
"I don't want to push him, Mr. Lawrence... Luke. I just want to be done with it."
"Then let me take it from here. I'll make sure you and your daughter never have to worry about money again."
"But he won't... he has so many lawyers."
I offer Kate my hand. "Yes, but your lawyer is better."
She smiles. "Okay."
"Trust me. Your daughter is going to be so proud of you for standing up for yourself."
I show her our standard retainer, and she signs without hesitation.
***
Ryan calls me into his office as soon as I arrive at work. Unfortunately I still work with him. I tried to leave. The Monday after Alyssa left Ryan for me, I asked him to dissolve the partnership.
But he refused. The way he saw it, there were two options--we continue working together with no mention of our personal lives, or I sell him my half of the firm and resign immediately. I hand over all of my clients, even those in the middle of difficult cases.
I want him out of my life, but I can't abandon the clients who need me.
I clench and unclench my fists. Ryan is always an irritation, but I'm not going to let him get to me.
I knock on the door and step into his office.
Ryan doesn't look up from his computer. "Several new clients requested you. I put the consults on your calendar."
"I have a full calendar." And taking on new clients will make it harder to get out of this firm.