Page 98 of Come to Me
I double time it back.
Alyssa needs reinforcements.
Chapter Twenty-One
Alyssa
Luke steps around the corner, a pleasant expression on his face.
Fuck. If he heard that...
I dig my nails into my wrist. It's fine.
Deep breath. It's not that bad. Boyfriends meet mothers, even estranged, clueless mothers who are trapped in the past.
It's not like Luke isn't aware Ryan is the only person who ever cared about me. Before him at least.
Mom stops her bullshit suggestions and returns to her wine, drinking it like it's my supposedly so great at sex father. That's not a detail I need.
She looks Luke over like he's a bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks, a greaser with a motorcycle and a leather jacket. It would be hilarious if it wasn't so ridiculous. Luke is a lawyer.
He's even wearing a suit, his tattoos completely covered. His hair is neat. I'm sure he's been polite and charming. He always is.
Mom shakes her head. She disapproves.
Acid churns in my stomach. I shouldn't care if she disapproves. She's been out of my life forever now, and I have no intention of bringing her back into it.
Luke offers his hand and I take it. It's such a little thing, but it's so much, too much all at once. I'm glad I'm sitting, because there's no way I could stand.
I miss him, I love him, I'm irritated with him.
Mostly, I just want to drag him to the bathroom, rip off his clothes, and lick every inch of his perfect body until he's screaming so loudly the whole damn restaurant can hear it.
It's been so long since he's been next to me—three months now—and we haven't had a hint of foreplay since my last meltdown. No pictures, no Skype, not even a few dirty texts.
"Mom wants to know how you met Ryan," I throw out. That ought to keep them busy for a while. Hopefully long enough that I can polish off my double.
Luke smirks. So, he heard some of that conversation.
But he plays along. "It's not a very interesting story. He wanted to form a law firm. I was the only other family practice lawyer he knew. The only competent one at least. So, magic happened."
Mom snickers.
She’s had more than these two drinks. It figures. I never blamed her when I was a kid--she worked hard and worked late and hey, there was always food in the fridge--but enough is enough.
"I'm sure you're more interested in how I ended up with Alyssa."
"It's none of my business," she says primly.
At least she's trying to be polite. It must be the second glass of wine. When she's sober, she's mean. Or she was.
It has been forever since we've spoken.
Luke squeezes my hand as he flashes my mother a million-dollar smile. "It's not complicated. You see, your daughter is irresistible."
"She gets the point." I don't need him going over the lurid detail of our first few encounters.
Mom may be glad to tell me that my father was great in bed, but I don't particularly want to tell her that my fiancé is a fucking sex God. Even if it's the only thing that would derail this conversation long enough for me to slip out the back entrance.
