Page 126 of The Homemaker

Murphy

Stop planning. God is laughing at you.

Click.Click. Click.

Alice’s steps fade as she retreats toward the kitchen. Her confession echoes in my head like a weather radio with poor signal. Some words pass through the noise, while others get lost in the static.

Edina.

Son.

I hear my name again and again until I peel my head from the wall and stare at the hand on my wrist.

Blond hair.

Familiar scent of rose and saffron.

“Babe, did you hear me?” Blair smiles. “We’re parked out front. Come help my father inside, even though he doesn’t think he needs help.” She rolls her eyes.

“You’re home,” I mumble, following her as she pulls me to the front door.

“Yes. They released him early. What’s your deal?” She laughs. “Why were you just standing against the wall?”

“Um,” I quickly shake my head. “I was just thinking.”

Blair opens the passenger door to Vera’s Porsche.

“I don’t need your help,” Hunter says.

I reach for his arm.

“Son, you’re not hearing me.”

I release him and take a step back.

“You’re being so stubborn,” Blair says, hooking her arm around his.

Hunter seems okay with her help, so I trail closely behind them into the house.

“Stop,” he says, shaking off Blair’s hold as we pass the kitchen.

“Welcome home, Mr. Morrison.” Alice delivers a sparkling smile like she didn’t just blow my fucking mind.

“Smells amazing. What’s for lunch?” He shuffles his feet into the kitchen and sits at the island while she cuts herbs.

“It’s not lunch. It’s rosemary for my next loaf of sourdough bread. I thought you’d be home closer to dinner. I’ll get started on lunch right away.” She winks at him, and he gobbles it up with his shit-eating grin.

“My father will have a salad for lunch with chicken or fish. No more red meat,” Blair instructs, while handing him a glass of water.

He frowns at the water and then at her, but she returns an overly sweet smile.

I, on the other hand, keep my attention glued to Alice, but she doesn’t return the slightest glance. It’s as if I’m not in the room.

“Red meat my ass,” Hunter says. “That’s bullshit. It’s not the red meat that’s trying to kill me.”

“Then what is it?” Blair crosses her arms over her chest while leaning against the counter next to him.

“Stress.”