I've tortured her enough.
***
Alyssa talks me into takeout at my place. We sit on the floor, our plates on the low coffee table in the living room, a seemingly endless bottle of tequila between us.
She eats slowly, paying careful attention to every bite. I'm more obvious than I mean to be about watching her, and she looks at me with a weariness usually reserved for conversations about Ryan.
She bites her thumb, her eyes heavy wit
h irritation. "I'm not going to binge just because you aren't watching me."
"I know, but I worry." I hold her gaze and move a little closer.
She shifts away from the table. "You're going to have to get used to it eventually."
"I know."
She stabs another bite of her dinner and takes a long bite. She chews, slowly. Swallows, slowly. She turns her eyes to the table and clears her throat. "Have you heard from Samantha?"
Samantha, my ex-fiancée, is one of my least favorite topics of conversation. We met at law school. I got her a job at my father's firm. She had an affair with him, fell madly in love with him, tried to leave me for him. When he rejected her, I begged her to take me back, promised things would be like they were in the beginning. She gave in, but I didn't hold up my end of the bargain. I ignored her at every turn, even when she sank into a terrible depression.
Then she tried to kill herself.
Now, we're friends. I call every week or two. Visit her at her parents' place in Santa Barbara every once in a while. I owe her that much.
"Do you really want to talk about her?" I ask.
Alyssa shakes her head. "No, but it's better than wondering." She looks at the floor. God, she looks so worried.
"You're not jealous..."
"Cause you're never jealous?" She folds her arms.
"Never," I say. "I've never been jealous in my life."
"Uh-huh."
"Okay, that's not true. I do get jealous of Jack McCoy from time to time." I move closer to her. "Have you seen his closing?"
"I've seen his eyebrows."
"Oh yeah?" I laugh.
She looks me in the eyes. "They're amazing. So full and lush. I'd kill for those eyebrows."
"They're huge."
"They're gorgeous."
"But he's so old."
"Age is just a number. He's distinguished. He's got the most beautiful, wrinkled face. It's so full of character."
I slide my hands around her waist. "Now I'm getting jealous of him all over again."
"Shock of the century." Her voice is light, happy.
She brushes a hair out of my eyes and presses her lips to mine. It's such a sweet release. I almost feel like we could dodge this topic forever.