Page 22 of The Homemaker

I poke my head out of the bedroom just as he stomps toward the front door.

“Are the women not back yet?” he asks me in a grumble.

“Not yet. Something wrong?”

“I’m speaking at a charity auction, and I can’t get this fucking bow tie to look right.”

“Mr. Morrison?”

Our attention shifts to Alice as she saunters toward him with ease and confidence. “Let me,” she says, reaching for his bow tie.

He relaxes in tiny increments because that’s the effect she has on everyone, except me. I want to shake her and demand she remember me, tell me what happened so I can get rid of this guilt.

“Did Vera teach you how to do this?” Hunter asks.

Her delicate, steady hands work the tie. “Vera told me I should know how to tie all your ties. But YouTube taught me.” She smirks, shifting her gaze to his face for a moment, like she adores him as much as he adores her. Fuck, maybe Veraisdying, and Alice will be the replacement. That makes me nauseous.

“Do you want to go to this auction with me?” Hunter lifts a suggestive eyebrow.

“Not particularly.” Alice gives him a big, cheesy smile while refocusing on his tie.

“Oh, come on. Vera never goes to auction dinners with me. Besides, all our friends know she hired me a homemaker. I’m the envy of the neighborhood and everyone in our social circle.” He glances back at me. “Murphy, you’ll understand after twenty-plus years of marriage.”

“There,” Alice says, taking a step back to admire her work.

Hunter turns toward the entry mirror. “Not bad.”

“Thank you.” She smiles, bending into a playful curtsy.

“There will be a band. Do you like to dance?” Hunter looks at her reflection in the mirror.

“Yes, by myself, with the shades drawn.”

He laughs. “Then we’d be in trouble. Vera is the dancer, so I let her lead. Blair loves to dance, too. What about you, Murphy?” He turns away from the mirror. “Can you dance?”

I look to Alice for any sort of recognition, but she offers nothing more than a soft smile while waiting for my response like she doesn’t know the answer. And once again it hits me—she doesn’t. God, this is torture.

“I’m okay,” I say just as my phone vibrates on the desk, so I retreat to check my message. “Blair just messaged me,” I say. “She and Vera are going to dinner with friends. Vera wants me to go to the auction with you.” I step outside of the bedroom with my phone. “I can lead when we dance.”

Alice snorts.

“Or you can go by yourself,” I say, “and I can get some more work done.”

Hunter nods. “Alice can make you dinner.”

“I can make my dinner.” When I look at her, she averts her gaze. Did I offend her?

“Looks like you have the night off, Alice.” Hunter struts up the stairs.

“I’ll finish organizing your study before I go,” she says.

“You’re a gem, thank you.”

She smooths her hands down the front of her apron. A stranger before me. But all I see are the familiar things. The blue eyes. Turned-up nose. Bow-shaped lips. Delicate fingers with trimmed nails. A mole on her neck that I’ve kissedcountless times. The three-inch scar on her right arm that I’ve traced with the pad of my finger.

“Would you have gone with him had he pushed you on it?” I ask.

“Of course.”