Page 60 of The Homemaker

“You know what I could use?” Blair says. “A glass of wine. Would you mind, babe?”

“I’ll get it,” Alice says.

“What? No.” I move toward the stairs, but not before she’s halfway out of the pool. “You’re not working.”

“Red or sparkling?” Alice asks, wrapping a towel around her head and another around her body.

“Sparkling,” Blair says.

“Anything for anyone else?” Alice smiles at me and Callen.

He folds his hands over his junk and shakes his head as I quickly dry off.

“Babe? Where are you going?” Blair rests her hands on the edge of the pool, peeking out at me.

“To get your wine,” I grumble, following Alice, who ignores me even when I’m only two feet behind her. “Forget about the wine,” I say when we reach the kitchen. “We’ll come inside and leave you two alone. You’re right. We weren’t supposed to be home.”

Alice retrieves a bottle of sparkling wine from the rack and opens the drawer to get the electric opener. “We’ve been in the pool long enough, so if anyone is getting out, it’s us.”

I take the bottle and opener from her and set it on the counter behind me, which makes her frown. “You’re off the clock.”

“So.”

“So go be with yourboyfriend.”

“I’m fine.” She reaches for the bottle. “Go be with your fiancée.”

I grab her wrist to stop her. She stares at my grip on her, and I can feel her pulse against my thumb.

“Who was she?” Alice whispers. “The person you think I remind you of?”

I move my thumb in a tiny circle against her skin, against her scar. “She was the best two weeks of my life.” My heart sinks into my stomach.

“I wouldn’t tell your fiancée that.” She lifts her gaze to mine.

I release her wrist.

Alice draws in a shaky breath and takes a step back, balling her hands. “I’m sorry you miss her. The past has a way of ruining the future, but only if you let it.”

My past is staring me in the eye, daring me to acknowledge it—to acknowledge her.

I glance over her shoulder. So this is how it’s going to be? On a sigh, I brush past Alice and return to the pool. “Sorry, Blair. There’s no wine left.”

“What?” She wrinkles her nose just as I dive into the deep end. “Murphy!”

When I emerge, she scowls. “I didn’t want to get my hair wet.”

Callen watches us from the corner where he’s still covering his junk with his hands.

“Here’s your wine,” Alice says, setting a glass of wine and the rest of the bottle on the table by Blair’s towel.

“Thank you. I guess there was wine after all.” She narrows her eyes at me before climbing out of the pool. “Alice, aren’t you having wine with me? Please join me. I don’t want to drink alone.”

“Sorry, I don’t drink. Perhaps I can get a glass for Murphy.”

Blair pouts. “Murphy doesn’t drink wine. He had a friend who drank wine for breakfast and then sort of lost his mind, so it ruined it for him.”

Jesus …