Page 27 of The Homemaker (The Chain of Lakes #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Murphy

If love doesn’t break your heart,

perhaps it’s not true love.

Eight Years Earlier …

She said she wanted to come back to me. Yet, when we made love, we did so with an intensity and desperation of the world ending.

Deadlines be damned. We spent our last days together in bed or in the kitchen, making a meal to refuel before going back to the bedroom.

“Murphy,” she whispered, hand curling with a fistful of my hair as I kissed her inner thigh.

“Come back to me,” I murmured, reaching for her breast as my mouth tasted her.

Her chest rose and fell in hard, erratic breaths while she lifted her hips from the mattress. When she closed her eyes, a tear escaped. It wasn’t the first, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. What I didn’t know was the reason for them.

She gasped when I crawled up her body and pushed inside of her like I could claim something that wasn’t mine. And there was no uncertainty about it. Alice was not mine.

The only thing that felt real about us was the inevitable wreckage.

“I love you,” I said with a labored breath before kissing her.

She curled her fingers, nails digging into my flesh, while turning her head to break the kiss. “Don’t,” she said, eyelids blinking heavier with each thrust. “Don’t love me now. Love me when I’m yours.”

God, if only she knew how badly I wanted that, how often I imagined it, and not just when I was inside of her. Every time I walked into the room, she’d grin and take an audible breath as if I were the very air that fed her lungs. It was such a subtle, intimate gesture.

And then there were times when our bodies searched for each other.

When we walked around the lake, she didn’t just hold my hand, she hugged my arm. During a meal, she’d say something funny or cute while stretching her leg until her foot rested on mine. Then I rested my other foot on hers, stacking them like we couldn’t stop touching each other.

“Whatever it is, I can take it,” I said, with her naked body draped over mine as we came down from our high.

“Another orgasm?” she asked in a groggy voice, turning her head a fraction to kiss my chest. “I’m pretty tired. Wake me in a couple of hours.”

The same humor that attracted me to her, the playful one-liners, no longer brought me joy. Every quip felt like a kick in the gut meant to keep me at a safe distance.

The next morning, the day before she had to leave, I brought her breakfast in bed.

“This is risky,” she said, stretching her body in one direction and then the other before sitting up against the headboard and pulling my T-shirt over her naked body.

“Why is that?” I asked, setting the tray in front of her.

“Because I don’t know if you can cook.”

“Am I still in danger of falling off a pedestal? A hundred orgasms later … really?”

“A hundred?” She giggled while taking a bite of the toast with apricot jam.

“My face has spent so much time between your gorgeous legs, your pussy could charge me rent.”

She blushed while slowly chewing. “This jam is amazing.”

“It’s from the farmer’s market. We should go today since you leave tomorrow,” I said without allowing anguish to seep into my tone.

“We should go on a date tonight.”

“A date?” I reclined on the bed, resting my head on her legs.

Alice grinned. “Something amazing.”

“Like bowling?”

She giggled, pressing her fingers to her lips while she swallowed. “So close, Murph. You were just so close. Then with one word, you tumbled from the pedestal.”

“Bowling? You don’t like bowling?” I propped myself up onto my elbow.

“Why do you look so excited over the idea of me not liking it? ”

“Because if you don’t like it, that means you’re not good at it. We’re going bowling. Fuck the pedestal.”

“Perhaps I’m so good that it feels too easy and therefore boring. Or it feels like the most unoriginal date ever.”

I shook my head. “No way. Dinner and a movie is the most unoriginal and boring date ever. Bowling is a solid choice. And if we’re lucky, we’ll arrive and get a warm pair of shoes that someone just returned.”

She laughed. “I can’t believe you’re single. Nothing sweeps a girl off her feet quite like warm bowling shoes. And I want to dress up for our date.”

“Bowling shoes go great with a suit.” I was so fucking scared our time was coming to an end, and so I took mental pictures of every smile and hoped my mind would remember the sound of her laughter.

“What’s that look?” she asked before sipping coffee.

“Have you been swept off your feet before?”

She swallowed and returned a less-than-convincing smile. “Before what? Warm bowling shoes? Sex in front of your neighbor?”

“Before me,” I said.

Her hand shook as she set the mug back on the tray and cleared her throat. “Are you going to cry if I beat you at bowling … in a dress?”

I took her shaky hand in mine and squeezed it. Tears filled her eyes, but she kept them at bay with a nervous laugh. Her pain was palpable, and I wanted to take it away.

“Why are you so good at everything?”

She shrugged, sniffling and fighting to keep a smile. “Quick learner. Good genes. Luck. I don’t know.”

“Well, I might just cry,” I said. “But it won’t be from a bruised ego. ”

She averted her gaze and quickly wiped her tears. “Please don’t do this,” she whispered.

“Do what?” I set the tray aside and pulled her into my arms, spooning her to me while kissing her neck. “Want you? Miss you? Love you?”

Alice sniffled again before turning in my arms and pressing her palms to my cheeks. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Today I’m here. So just look at me like you do, and say …” her voice cracked.

“Hi,” I said.

She closed her eyes as I kissed her. Maybe she wasn’t real, but the pain sure was.