Page 52 of The Homemaker

Will she tell me everything?

Will it change anything?

Standing this close to her, just the two of us, it feels like we're cleaning up after dinner in the little rental, like I could kiss her and it would feel normal, maybe even expected.

“What was your childhood home like?” I ask.

“My dad did all the cooking because he was a stay-at-home dad. That’s where my love of cooking started. Later I consumed every YouTube video I could find that would refine my cooking skills. And I had to wash the dishes every night. No waiting until morning at my house.”

“So your dad stayed home. What did your mom do?” I don’t know if she’s telling me the truth. This is all new information.

“She’s a biomedical engineer.”

“So you’ve taken after your dad. A homemaker.”

Alice laughs. “I get paid, he didn’t. That’s one reason they’re divorced now.” She hands me the last dish.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Actually,” she drains the water and pauses, “I took after my mom.”

“What do you mean?”

“I went to college to be a civil engineer, but after my third year, I dropped out.”

The Alice I knew didn’t go to college. Who’s the liar? Old Alice or new Alice?

“Why did you drop out?”

She dries her hands. “My friend died, and I lost focus. The only reason I was studying engineering was because my mom supported it and my friend was studying it as well.”

I pause. Did her friend really die? When? Was it the same friend who convinced her to be a synchronized swimmer? “I’m sorry,” I murmur.

After hanging the towel to dry, she puts away the clean dishes. “Stop apologizing for the miserable things in my life. Look at me now. I’m living the dream.”

“Dream bigger.” I laugh.

She closes the cabinet and leans against it. “Are you living your dream?”

Nightmare is more like it.

“What do you think?” I ask with a little laugh, as if the answer is obvious.

“I think you’re just along for the ride in someone else’s dream.”

“Is that not what you’re doing?”

Her gaze slips along with her smile, and she stares at the floor between us.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I ask.

Alice returns her attention to me.

“I met a woman eight?—”

“Ugh! Traffic is insane,” Blair interrupts, tossingher keys onto the counter and dropping her bag on the floor before draping her arms around me.

I hug her waist as she practically hangs from my neck like she’s too tired to stand on her own.