Page 67 of The Homemaker

After a few seconds, I nod and whisper, “Yeah.”

“Change your clothes. I’ll wait out here.”

I slide the door shut and kick off my shoes before heading into the bedroom to change into denim shorts and a fitted T-shirt. Then I untie my hair and comb it with my fingers. And for whatever reason, I check my makeup and dab a bit of perfume onto my wrists and neck before meeting him outside.

He gives me a quick once-over, but I don’t stare at him, silently calling him out like he did to me. Instead, I relish the way my skin tingles from nothing more than one look fromhim. The most tragic thing about us (and there are a lot) is this awful timing.

As we pull away from the curb onto the street, he rolls down his window. “Do you like biking?”

“Um, sure. Why?”

“I might take a ride later. You could join me.”

“I don’t have a bike.”

“You can ride Vera’s. She won’t mind.”

I laugh. “It’s probably a five-thousand-dollar bike. What if I crash it?”

“It’s probably closer to a ten-thousand-dollar bike. If you crash it, she’ll fire you and hire a new homemaker. Oh, wait. No, she won’t, because you are literally the only person who would take this job.”

I smirk, shooting him a quick sidelong glance.

“Someday, all this money, the kind that buys ten-thousand-dollar bikes, will belong to you and Blair. Has that sunk in?” I ask.

“It won’t feel like mine. I’m signing a prenup.”

“Oh, does that bother you?”

“The prenup? No.” He shrugs. “I’m a minimalist. And when I met Blair, I had no idea her family had this kind of money. She was living in a dinky apartment in San Francisco. She didn’t have a car, took public transportation, and shopped at secondhand stores for most of her clothes. When her art began to sell, she bought a nice car and splurged on some shoes and handbags, but it was all purchased with her own money. I respected that.”

“She’s staying grounded. That’s hard to do when you have access to a private jet.”

He hums. “Yeah.”

I start to say more, but stop before the words make it tothe air. Murphy seems content with the breeze hitting his face, staring out the open window, and that makes me content as well. When we arrive at the Vietnamese restaurant, Murphy eyes me before unfastening his seat belt.

“What?”

He slowly shakes his head. “Nothing.”

We head inside, order our sandwiches at the counter, and find a table near the window to enjoy our lunch.

“Best sandwiches in Minneapolis,” he says after swallowing a big bite.

“For sure.” I nod while blotting my mouth with a napkin. “Have you brought Blair here?”

“Of course.” He eyes me, and it’s like he has a secret.

The heaviness of his gaze on me, even when I’m not looking, makes it hard to concentrate.

“You said you met Blair in San Francisco. What made you leave Minneapolis? And how bizarre is it that she’s from here too?”

“It was a coincidence. Kismet in her mind.” He grins. “And my company’s headquarters is in San Francisco. I can work remotely, but I decided a change would be good. It was nice to have more in-person meetings.”

“New York will put you even farther away. Are you looking forward to living there?”

“Good question.” He glances out the window with a faraway look in his eyes. “Leaving Minnesota is never easy. But sometimes the first part of moving on is … moving.”