Page 36 of The Homemaker (The Chain of Lakes #1)
I stand, holding out my hand to her while letting my gaze sweep across the balcony of spectators. “I’m kidding,” I say with a grin and a wink.
It was fourteen months, not a year.
Blair and her parents laugh and resume drinking their wine, but Murphy gives me a dead stare that makes my grin falter for a beat before recovering.
No one should be shocked. Surely, rich people know that nothing worth having in life comes without surviving a certain level of insanity.
After all, Vera has me reading explicit romance to her husband and wearing dresses and shoes that make him horny.
Hunter ordered her a new electric Porsche because the one he bought her two months ago isn’t the right shade of red in her opinion.
I’m not the crazy one on this balcony.
“Oh, Krista, I was going to show you my massage chair since you said the car did a number on your back,” Vera says, standing and setting her wine glass on the table.
“Massage chair? Where do you have a massage chair?” Blair asks. “How did I not know about this? I want to see.” She untangles her legs from Murphy’s and follows them.
“I’ll meet you at the guesthouse,” I say to my mom, but she’s too enthralled by Vera’s expensive chair to concern herself with my whereabouts.
“Mr. Morrison, I’m off the clock, so you’re not allowed to look at my ass.” I tease, squeezing past his outstretched legs.
He returns a hearty chuckle. “I wasn’t.”
I shoot him a flirty grin over my shoulder. “You were.”
“Did you really lose your mind?” he asks.
I hold my grin. “I’m your homemaker . I think that speaks volumes about my sanity. See you in the morning, Mr. Morrison.”
Halfway to the guesthouse, I take a hard left, down the terrace, through the fence, and across the one-way parkway to the lake. I need a walk, a moment to clear my head and organize my thoughts before dealing with my mother.
Sunrise and sunset are my favorite times to stroll along the path around the lake because it’s less crowded .
“Wait up.”
I close my eyes for a second when I hear Murphy’s voice behind me.
“I think we’re done waiting for each other,” I say.
“Alice, that day you thought I was drowning in the pool?—”
“You feel like an ass because my fiancé drowned before I could save him. It’s fine. I wasn’t triggered. Just doing a public service.”
“Are you angry with me?” He catches up, and I feel his gaze on my cheek, as I keep my pace.
“No. I’m angry at … nothing. No one. I’m not angry. You’re putting words into my mouth. And where’s your wife?”
“I don’t have one.”
I stop, slowly deflating as he steps in front of me. My focus stays on his chest because I can’t look at him.
“For the record, I waited for you,” he says.
“I did too,” I whisper, lifting my gaze.
Two vertical lines form between his eyes. “What do you mean?”
I shake my head and step past him to continue walking.
“Wait. No. You can’t say that then walk away.”
“Uh, I did. And I am.”
“You didn’t wait for me. You left me. And I’m not blaming you. What happened to you is horrible. I just need things between us to be clear, and what’s clear is I waited for you.”
“Murphy, I don’t think things will ever be clear between us.
They will forever be about as clear as that water.
” I nod to the mossy green water edged with algae.
“But if you must know, I returned to Minneapolis for you, but you were gone. The rental was sold. Your neighbors knew nothing of your whereabouts, and the one gallery I found that once had your art didn’t know where you’d moved.
So I waited. Rented an apartment. Got a job.
And settled into the area. Then I waited. I waited and waited. Until …”
“You’re not being serious.”
I give him a quick sidelong glance and smirk. “Well, I wish I weren’t. I’m not usually so sappy and pathetic.”
He grips my arm, making me stop and look at him. A couple walking their dog pass us on the left.
“You waited until what? Until when?”
I’m still waiting .
“Until my boss’s daughter came home for the summer with her fiancé.”
Murphy squints, shaking his head. “That’s a lie. You were with Callen.”
“I’m not marrying him.”
“You’re mad because I’m marrying Blair?”
I roll my eyes. “Of course not.”
“Then what?”
“Then nothing. You followed me.”
“Because I was concerned after what your mom said.”
I tip up my chin. “I’m not your concern.”
“It’s just a public service.”
I don’t want to grin, but damn him for saying that. “Shut up.” I start walking again.
“I’m scared,” he says, staying a few steps behind me.
“Of the boogie man?”
“No.”
“Of Blair leaving you at the altar?”
“No. I’m scared I’m going to royally fuck up my life before I ever get to the altar. ”
“Sounds like a you problem.”
“It’s an us problem.”
I laugh. “There is no us .”
“And yet, here we are.”
“Because you’re following me.”
“Then stop walking away.”
“So you can catch me?”
“Maybe.”
My heart lurches into my throat. Why is he saying that? He doesn’t mean it. I break into a jog.
“Want me to chase you?”
I don’t answer. I can’t answer.
And he doesn’t chase me.