Page 86 of The Homemaker

I couldn’t speak past my heart in my throat, so I shook my head. She offered a sad smile. “Well, again. We can’t thank you enough. Bye.” She opened the door, and they left.

I was so fucking scared that she wouldn’t come back, but never did I imagine it ending like that.

Did I … break her?

Chapter Thirty-Four

Murphy

The heart has an infinite capacity.

Sometimes we wish it didn’t.

“I’m so sorry,”she whispers, quickly swiping at a tear on her cheek.

“Don’t.” I shake my head, sitting back on my heels as my hands slide off the sofa. “Don’t apologize.”

“He drowned.” She tips her head to the ceiling and closes her eyes while taking a long breath. “And I was?—”

My phone chimes. “Fuck,” I mumble, pulling it from my pocket.

“Blair is looking for you?”

I stare at the screen and nod.

“Thank you for taking me to urgent care.”

I type a quick reply and slide my phone back into my pocket. “I don’t have to go yet. Keeptalking.”

“I think …” She turns and stares out the window. “Perhaps we’ve said everything there is to say. I lost a lot. And maybe you did too. But we’ve moved on.” Her gaze returns to me. “Sometimes I get lost in what might have been, but it only keeps me from moving forward. You said it yourself. Sometimes the only way to move on is to actually move. If my being here is too much, even just for the summer, I’ll leave. It was never my intention to turn your life upside down. Not then. Not now.”

I stand and drag a hand through my hair. “Worst timing,” I mumble.

“Us?” A smile plays along her lips as I nod. “What if it’s perfect timing?”

I grunt my objection to her “what if.”

She drops her gaze, picking at the edge of the bandage around her finger. “When Chris died, I didn’t cry. Not a single tear. Everything inside of me rejected the idea that he was gone. And when that no longer worked, I pretended he never existed. No love. No death.”

I slide my hands into my pockets, resisting the urge to touch her and comfort her.

“My parents were worried I wasn’t facing the truth.” She laughs. “As usual, they were right. But I didn’t see it. All I saw were people telling me what to think and how to feel, so I left. Drove all night and ended up in Minneapolis. I spent the night at a hotel and decided to find a rental. I found you.”

Maybe she’s right. We’ve said all that needs to be said. Everything else feels like torture.

“What if I needed you to help me breathe again?” she asks.

“That’s not how it felt the night your parents took you away from me.”

Alice frowns. “I know,” she whispers. “And I know this feels like terrible timing to see me again, but what if it’s what you need to really move on? Get married. Be happy. You said you needed closure. Now, you have it.”

I have it? Is she joking? This isn’t closure. I don’t look at her and think how lucky I am to have dodged that bullet. It’s no longer about the past. I don’t want to make the wrong fucking choice for my future. What if I can’t exist in this world knowing she’s here, baking bread, dancing to oldies on vinyls, and flirting with rich, married men?

It’s been eight years, and I haven’t really let her go. And now I have a chance, but all I want to do is hold her tighter than ever before. Yet, these feelings somehow coexist with my love for Blair, and it makes no sense, but it’s my truth. My truth feels like punishment.

“I’m so sorry for all that you’ve been through,” I say.

Alice swallows and offers a sad smile. “Thank you. I’m fine now. Really. And I’m thankful that fate, God, whatever has brought us here.” Her smile stretches a bit more into something hopeful. “I think I’ve needed closure too.”