Page 76 of The Homemaker

“I need help moving on from our last night together.”

She fiddles with her apron before smoothing herhands down the front of it. “You’re getting married. I think that’s considered moving on.”

I pick up the plate of cookies and milk. “You’re right. I guess I need help letting go.”

Her lips turn downward. “Murphy?—”

“I just”—I shake my head—“I just need some of the gaps filled in because I’ve spent eight years trying to figure it out. So call it closure or whatever, but I can’t let it go until I know exactly what I’m letting go of.”

She chews on the inside of her cheek.

“I don’t want to cause you stress or bring up painful memories. I really don’t. So if this is too much to ask, then?—”

“It’s not,” she murmurs. “It’s just more than you need. So I guess I’m trying to decide how to help you let go without giving you too much.”

I walk toward her, dipping a cookie into the milk and taking a bite. It softens her frown. “There’s nothing you could give me that’s too much.” Dipping the cookie again, I hold it up to her mouth.

It drips milk onto her apron, and she inspects the spot before giving me a raised eyebrow.

I snort while suppressing a laugh. “Oops.”

She takes a bite, and it drips onto her chin, so I wipe it with my thumb. She stiffens for a second before slowly chewing and swallowing.

“I’ve missed you,” I whisper.

She takes a step backward. “Blair is?—”

I shake my head. “Don’t. I can love herandmiss you. Two things can be true at once. Grief doesn’t die. It just learns to coexist with a new reality. In fact,” I take another bite of the cookie, “when it’s just the two of us, let’s not talk about Blair or what’s his name.”

Her nose wrinkles. “His name is Cal?—”

“Shh.” I shake my head. “Nope. It’s just you and me. Cookies. Milk. Manuals to write. Tomatoes to can. And Hunter’s streaked underwear to fold.”

Her giggle reaches into my chest and squeezes my heart. “His underwear doesn’t have streaks. And even if they did, you knowing that would be weird.”

“The guy farts more than a thirty-year-old truck with exhaust issues.”

“He does not.” She rolls her eyes before returning to the kitchen.

I follow her. “He does, just not in front of you. I never said he’s not a gentleman. He holds it in until you’re out the door, then he explodes.”

Alice shakes with laughter as she finishes putting dated labels on the sealed jars of tomatoes and onions. “You’re ruining my fantasy.”

“Fantasy? What fantasy?” I cross my arms over my chest and lean my shoulder against the fridge. There aresomany things I want to ask her, but I don’t know where to begin. So I opt for anything that will bring a smile to her face.

“Mr. Morrison has a real charm about him. And while he sneaks no less than a hundred peeks a day at my legs, I love the way he curls Vera’s hair behind her ear before he kisses her cheek and whispers, ‘I love you,’ in that ear. And Vera always blushes like they’ve been dating for weeks instead of married for years. It’s sweet.” She caps the marker and faces me.

I glance at my watch without actually paying attention to the time. “I’m taking a quick break before getting back to work. Let’s get in the pool.”

“Can’t. I’m on the clock.”

“Who’s going to know?”

“Anyone who looks at the security cameras.”

“We’ll pause them.”

Alice scoffs. “No.Wewon’t be pausing anything. Enjoy your swim.”