Page 91 of Come to Me
I would never talk to him about Luke under normal conditions. I like my privacy and I really don't like feeling vulnerable.
But I am vulnerable right now. And I feel like everything is just bubbling up inside me. Maybe it would be good to talk about it.
"I... I don't know if I'm ready to be married," I admit, still not looking at him.
"Okay," he says slowly. "Not ready because of Luke? Or because of the timing? Or something else?"
"I... I don't know," I admit. "I love Luke. And I want to be with him. But he's moving so fast and... " And there's so much wrong with me, so much he has to put up with.
And I feel... trapped. Though even that doesn't fully encompass the weird combination of emotions fighting inside me.
I look up when Nicholas’shand covers the back of my own.
He gives me a sympathetic look.
"I know there's probably stuff going on that I don't know about. But... Alyssa, you don't have to be in a relationship at all if you don't want to be. Trust me—there are plenty of guys out there who'd be perfectly content with something a lot less... formal than marriage."
I break eye contact, feeling a little uncomfortable at the intimacy of the moment.
I pull my hand away.
"Thanks for listening," I say into my drink. "I just don't want to think about it right now."
"Okay."
The pause that follows is a little awkward, but we slowly shift the conversation to more shallow topics.
I am careful not to overindulge. Two or three drinks max. But it's enough to unlock all the thoughts I'm trying to drown.
Luke isn't here, and it's not just the distance. It's so much more than that.
It's not like him to go cold.
He must be hurt. Of course he's hurt. Most people would be running for the hills in this situation. I should jump for joy that he's only hurt.
The weekend comes and goes, and I start to hear a few peeps from Luke. A "hey" here or an "I miss you" there. We keep things light and easy, no mentions of trust or communication or, God forbid, whether or not I'm eating.
We talk on the phone, but it's about nothing. About TV or work or the weather.
He's holding back. It's not like I blame him. He's entitled to space if needs to lick his wounds.
But he won't admit he's upset. He won't admit I'm disappointing him.
One week turns into two. Then three. Then four.
I struggle with eating, but I use all the techniques I've learned to cope. I call Angela, talk to my therapist.
I keep it together.
I know how devastated Luke would be if he found out I wasn't eating. But that's not why I do it.
I do it for me.
I don't want to let myself down again.
Then, as if all that's happening isn't enough, Luke emails me that he's delaying his trip.
Hey Ally,
