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and there.
    I bite my tongue a dozen times to avoid offering suggestions. She's always painfully distant about recovery, and she mostly refuses to discuss anything related to food.
    "You're hovering," she says.
    "I'm not hovering. I'm just here."
    "But you look so concerned."
    "Am I not allowed to be concerned?" I ask.
    "You're the one who convinced me to do this."
    "I know."
    "You begged me to take the role and go to New York on my own." She loads the cart with almond milk, of course.
    "I'm concerned. That's it."
    "I'm not a vase that's going to break," she says.
    "It's okay if you're scared of being on your own. I'm scared too."
    "What are you scared about?"
    "I hate being without you."
    She turns away, her fingers digging into the cart. "This was your idea."
    "You're happy, aren't you?" I ask.
    "Yeah, but..." She lowers her voice, until it's barely a whisper. "What if I can't handle being here alone? What if it's too much, too soon? There's a street cart on every corner. A trigger food on every corner. This is going to be stressful. I'm going to be tempted."
    "So you'll call me."
    "Yeah..."
    "You will call me," I say.
    "I will do what I want to do. If I want to call you, I'll call you."
    "Ally, please. Don't do this. I'm going to miss you too. I'm going to be lonely and stressed without you too."
    "That's not the same."
    "You've been in recovery for almost two years."
    "Yeah," she says. "Technically."
    "And it's been almost a year since you've purged, right?"
    "Wow. You said purge without cringing. That's serious progress."
    "Ally--"
    "Okay, you're right," she says. "I have been doing well with recovery. I'm just... I'm scared. You can reassure me all you want, but I'm still going to be scared."
    "Okay."
    I rub her shoulders and she leans into me. "I'm terrified," she says.
    "Okay."
    "I can barely shop for groceries by myself. How am I supposed to survive six months alone?"
    I slide my arms around her and whisper in her ear. "I don't know, but I know you can do it. You're the strongest person I know."
    She pulls away. "Maybe."
    "Ally."
    "Let's finish this and go back to the apartment, okay? It was a long trip and we're both tired."
    I bite my tongue. She's tired. This isn't the first step to everything falling apart.
    ***
    This is supposed to be the city that never sleeps, a place brimming with life. But on a Saturday afternoon, the financial district is dead quiet. And it's mocking me.
    Alyssa is on the defensive, and she shows no signs of letting down those walls. I rack my brain for subtle ways to nudge her out of hiding, but I've got nothing. She's in a new place. She's overwhelmed and underslept. It's fair that she's upset.
    I wait until we're back in the apartment to broach the subject. "Ally, I'm sorry," I say.
    "Can we not talk for a little while?"
    I nod. We can talk later. We're both exhausted. "Okay."
    "I'm not going to break up with you or anything. I just need a little space."
    "Not space again."
    "Space is the wrong word. I need a little time to not think about anything."
    I nod. "Can I say one thing?"
    "Can I stop you?"
    "I love you. And I promise I'm not trying to get rid of you."
    "Yeah?"
    "Yeah. If I could, I'd stay in New York for every minute that you're here."
    She smiles and kisses me on the cheek. "I love you too." She steps into the shower, shutting the door behind her.
    I hate this. I really want to respect Alyssa's wishes, to give her time to think when she needs it, but I fucking hate it. Why did I convince her to take the part? I could have been selfish. I could have asked her to stay with me, then felt guilty every day I failed get home by six. I could have stayed up half the night worrying she would resent me.
    I will respect Alyssa's wishes. I won't try and make her talk.
    But, if she really wants to clear her head, there's a much better way to do it.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    Alyssa
     
    Can I do this?
    Can I really fucking do this?
    The hot water