Page 78 of The Homemaker

I shake my head.

He narrows his eyes, moving toward me like a shark. “You are.”

I shake my head faster. “No!” A squeal escapes my chest when he scoops me up and tosses me into the deep end. When I come up for air, I swipe my arm along the surface, splashing water in his direction.

He laughs, turning his head to the side.

The straps around my neck are not totally untied, but they’re loose, so I adjust them and retie it. “You about made me lose my top.”

Murphy lets his focus slip to my chest before our eyesmeet again, and he smirks. It feels both wrong and familiar. We didn’t fade. The attraction didn’t die. We simply ended. It’s like the emotion and passion have been on pause. Does he feel it too? Is it why moving on feels like going nowhere?

“I can think of worse things,” he says in a husky voice that makes my insides turn to molten lava.

How many times can a heart break? I feel like mine has the ability to crumble into infinitely small pieces. He was so concerned about my marital status because he’s a good man with morals. Now, I’m feeling the same, but his relationship status isn’t in question. It’s solidified with thousands of dollars in a venue reservation, caterers, a live band, and a big diamond ring on the finger of a woman who I want to hate, but can’t manage to fully do.

My smile fades as I climb out of the pool and wrap a towel around my body. Murphy follows me, drying off as I avoid eye contact. When he steps directly in front of me, demanding my attention, I stare at our bare feet until I find the courage to lift my chin.

I know that look in his eyes. It’s like no time has passed. He’s going to kiss me. And I want to let him. When he wets his lips while staring at mine, I offer something else.

“I was engaged.”

His gaze lifts.

“He died.” I don’t know if there will ever come a day when those two words don’t rip open deep wounds. “A month later, I rented a lovely little house for two weeks in Minneapolis.”

Murphy’s brow tightens as he swallows hard.

“For two weeks, I pretended it was all just a bad dream. In fact, I pretended he never existed. Because people who never existed can’t break your heart.” Tears burn my eyes,and I draw in a shaky breath. “Then I met a guy who wasthe bestescape.” I smile, wiping my eyes before my emotions break free. “He was funny and sexy.”

Murphy returns a painful smile.

“And kind of shy, but confident when it mattered. An extroverted introvert. He had phenomenal taste in music and the most fascinating talent. A man who knew how to handle his wood.”

He grunts a tiny laugh.

“My break from reality turned into something so real that it felt like an alternate universe. How could I feelsolost and yet found at the same time?”

Murphy doesn’t try to fill a single breath of air between us with words that won’t change anything. He just lets mefeel,reminding me why my heart opened wide enough to let him in while grieving Chris. Murphy’s patience is more intimate than a kiss.

“I wanted you to have the best version of me. And I thought”—I shake my head—“I thought I could face reality again, and push through the grief, knowing that you were on the other side. But that’s not how grief works. It’s grueling and unforgiving.” Again, I blot my eyes before tears escape. “It’s like falling into the water, and the only thing that can propel you to the top is your feet pushing off the bottom. But the bottom was so deep, I could hardly breathe, and—” My voice cracks.

Murphy reaches for my face, and I shake my head, taking a step back and swallowing a sob. The pain in his eyes compounds the ache in my chest.

“It felt like cinder blocks tied to my feet. I couldn’t move. All I could do was hold my breath until my lungs burned. And I feltsoguilty over you and our timetogether. I thought I deserved everything that was happening to me.”

He takes a hesitant step toward me. I know I should turn and run. Get dressed. Dry my hair. Do my job.

But I yearn for the comfort of his arms, so when he wraps them around me, hand on the back of my head, holding me against his chest, I let him.

“Nobody deserves what happened to you. I’msovery sorry,” he whispers.

I could stay in his arms forever, and that scares me, so I pull away and wipe my face. “I uh … should get back to work.”

Murphy frowns. “Yeah, me too.”

“Don’t forget to turn the cameras back on.”

He nods, glancing up at one of them just outside the mammoth sliding door. “Alice, had I known?—”