Page 45 of Tell Me You Love Me

He doesn’t wait for my response. And even if he had, I’m not sure I have one to offer. Instead, I rest my chin on my arm and watch him walk away, and when he and Oliver are mid-conversation, lifting a grill from the back of the truck and otherwise busy, I scramble off my towel, shove my skirt down my legs and toss my sunglasses so they don’t rust in the water.

As quick as I can, I move toward the lake and wander into the water at the same safe distance I put the tube in. Eliza Darling wants to kill me, and I haven’t been gone for so long that I forget what a fighter’s body looks like.

Disinterested in anything above the surface, I wade out to the drop-off and dip my head underwater. Then I swim to the very bottom and simply… stay for a little while. I search the murky depths and hold my breath, luxuriating in the cool water on my skin and the soft brush of my hair tickling my shoulders.

I haven’t swum since I was last in Plainview, which, now that I think about it, is ridiculous. I haven’t relaxed at a pool or a lake, not a beach or a lagoon. Not once in all the time since my son came into this world have I stepped into a body of water larger than a bathtub.

And sadly, I hadn’t even realized it.

I enrolled Franky in swimming lessons, of course, and watched every single week, hunching in on myself and pouting when water splashed my shoes or got on my legs. But for ten years, I hadn’t even noticed I’d given up on something that used to bring me immense joy. Such cool bliss on myskin. The freedom of weightlessness. The magic of silence. And the pleasure of floating on my back, staring up at the shady trees above.

I’m not sure my hiatus was even intentional. I just… didn’t do it.

My lungs begin to ache, reminding me I don’t get to be a mermaid, living under the surface and yearning for a dark-haired man I can’t have. I would sigh if I could. But I can’t, so I push off the lake floor, rocks and beer bottles under my feet, creating the foundations for some of my happiest memories.

I break the surface and suck in fresh air, only to turn and find Tommy’s nose just inches from mine. I scream and scramble away from his fiery eyes, splashing him with water that does nothing to douse the lava in his stare.

“What the hell are you doing?” My heart hammers out of control, working that much harder because I starved it of oxygen in the first place. “Jesus! You scared me.”

“You scared me.” He treads water calmly, droplets settling on his lip. His nose. His shoulders. “You were under for a long fuckin’ time, Alana.” He keeps his words devastatingly low, each one only for me, despite the eyes that burn the side of my face. The attention we garner, simply by existing.

Probably my scream, too. That would’ve done it.

“Your son wasn’t paying attention at first,” he growls. “But after a while, he started counting.”

Horrified, I swing my gaze around and find my baby, still on Chris’ shoulders, a full thirty feet away.

“Chris remembers from when we were younger, when you tested how long you could stay under.” Tommy’s feet brush mine beneath the surface, his long, powerful legs tangling with mine.

I pull away, vowing to squeeze mine together and become a pin before I wrap myself around this man again.

“So he told Franky how you did that. To save your son from worrying, they counted together. Now you’re up again, and everything is fine.” His eyes flicker down to my lips. “ButI knowthat wasn’t a game, Alana. And if you had the choice, I think you’d disappear into the depths forever.” He brings his gaze up again. “I asked you to wait on the towel for me. I was only gonna be gone for a minute.”

“Just because you want something doesn’t mean you get it.” I tread water and add another two feet between us, since it’s clear he won’t. “You should go hang out with your friends. I intend to float here a little longer until Franky’s done. Then we’ll leave, and you can get on with your day.”

“I don’t want you to leave.” He reclaims those two feet of space, andwhen I turn to take more, he only shifts, telling me without words that he plans to be wherever I go. I get no choice in the matter. “Why did you and Colin split up?”

“What?” A massive splash draws my focus to the left, to my son disappearing beneath the lake’s surface, arms and legs tangling and sprawling. But then he resurfaces again, laughing when Chris scoops him up.

“You agreed to answersomequestions.” Tommy swims around, placing himself in my line of sight. “You and Colin… is that another thing you won’t talk about?”

I open my mouth to speak, only for him to cut me off again.

“You don’t wanna answerwhyyou left, and you’ve drawn a line in the sand with your book. I’m respecting those. Fuck knows, I don’t wanna,” he grits out. “But I will. Is your relationship with Colin another boundary? Because if it is, say so. Don’t run away.”

“He’s…” I swallow the ache tickling the base of my throat. “Colin’s in love with someone else. Our relationship was always, and will always, remain cordial and kind. But he needs space to explore his relationship with Tasha, and Franky and I needed to come back here to be with my mom.”

His eyes narrow to slits. Not angry. Just… pensive.

“He was having an affair?”

“In the most technical sense.” I shrug. “I suppose. We were friends at the core, and respect for each other and Franky’s best wishes were paramount in every decision we made. Colin and Tasha are getting serious now, and Mom asked us to come back to Plainview. I guess the stars aligned, so here we are.”

“The dude is having an affair, and you’re totally cool with that?” He tilts backward and floats for a moment, chuckling quietly under his breath. “Not the Alana I remember.Thatgirl would tear a man’s balls clear off his body for looking anywhere but at her.”

“The Alana you remember was young and immature. Her emotions had not yet stabilized, her impulse control was lacking, and she suffered from crippling self-esteem due to her mother’s tendency of discarding her on a whim. That Alana neededsomeoneto love her, and the thought of losing that person was a special kind of torture.ThatAlana felt the need to claim ownership over another human being, all so she would never feel discarded again.”

“Big words.” His lips twitch with a playful smile. “Sounds to me like you’ve spent a great deal of time inside a therapist’s office since we last hung out. Self-esteem,” he repeats in a murmur. “Discard.” He straightens outand captures me with his all-seeing eyes. “You ran away from me and landed on a therapist’s couch?” And just like that, his expression turns sour. “Colin is not a therapist, is he? Because fucking your patient is professional misconduct to the worst degree.”

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