Page 51 of The Homemaker (The Chain of Lakes #1)

Chapter Forty-Nine

Alice

It sucks being someone’s first choice,

but not their only one.

I knew.

At least, I knew until I saw Cameron Beckett with his freckled face. I spent years wondering if he was Chris’s son or Murphy’s. I knew he could be either man’s son. But I wanted him to be Chris’s because the alternative felt like a betrayal to so many people.

I’d seen pictures of Chris from when he was a child with freckles. And that was it. I knew those freckles had to be his. When the agency gave me the Becketts’ location and contact information, it seemed like fate that his family lived in Minneapolis. That’s where I had moved to look for Murphy.

I’m not sure I believe in fate anymore .

When I return to the main house, Vera’s in the kitchen making a salad.

“I’m sorry. I had to run back to the guesthouse. Let me do that.”

She smiles, shaking her head. “I can make his salad. I want to make it.”

When our gazes meet, I know my job is coming to an end, but I smile anyway.

Vera blinks away her tears before refocusing on the knife in her hand and the chopped cucumbers on the cutting board.

“He almost died,” she says, her voice weak and vulnerable.

“And I realized this game we’re playing is so stupid.

It was funny at first. Neither one of us had to make a compromise.

But that’s not a real marriage. Right?” She lifts her head again.

All I have to offer is a slow nod.

“I’d really like you to stay until after the wedding. I need the help. Then we’ll find you a new job. We know lots of people who would love to hire someone like you.” She laughs a little. “And I’m sure they won’t make you wear those ridiculous dresses and an apron.”

I slide the rosemary from the edge of the cutting board and brush it off my hand into the bowl of sourdough. “Actually, I think the dresses are fun. Maybe I want you to find someone who would like me to wear these dresses when I work for them.”

Vera grins, blotting the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. “Thank you, Alice. You have been the best thing to happen to our family.”

My smile falls off my face like a boulder tumbling down a mountain.

“You need to teach me all your tips. I want to learn how to bake bread and make chocolate chip cookies that are the perfect shade of golden brown. Gooey on the inside, crunchy on the outside. Hopefully, in the not too distant future, I’ll be a grandma.”

My hands shake as I cover the bowl of sourdough with the towel. “I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful grandmother,” I say without missing a beat, like a seasoned actress.

“Who’s going to be a wonderful grandmother?” Blair asks, shuffling into the kitchen, head bowed to her phone.

“Me, silly. When you and Murphy give me grandbabies.”

Blair lifts her head, and they have a silent exchange. She must have told Vera that she thought she was pregnant.

“Murphy got us a hotel room tonight. He says we need a night to ourselves.” Blair bites her lower lip to control her grin.

“Sounds like a lovely idea,” Vera says.

Yep. Sounds lovely .

“I’m going to pull some weeds in the garden,” I say, jabbing my thumb over my shoulder.

Vera wrinkles her nose. “It’s boiling outside. Shouldn’t you do that in the morning or later this evening instead?”

Yes. She’s correct. That’s the best time to do it. But right now is the best time to sweat and take out my frustrations on invasive little soil creatures.

After I change into shorts and a tank top, because I can’t stay in character when I’m this frustrated, I rip, pull, and pluck weeds from the garden.

My fingers curl like talons, raking the soil between plants.

The warm earth packs under my fingernails as I inhale the sweet scent of dirt. Sweat drips from my forehead.

“Ask me to choose you. ”

I pause, hands clenched around weeds and dirt, but I don’t turn. “Why?”

“Because I just want to hear you say it.”

“Well, we don’t always get what we want. Do we?”

“No. We don’t.”

“Choose her,” I grumble, tossing the weeds into the bucket.

“Because she has good breeding?”

“No. Because you already chose her. Let your word mean something. And if she tries to end it with you, fight for her. She doesn’t need you to be perfect; she just needs you to be on her side. So, choose her.”

“What if I choose you?”

“Then you’re an idiot.”

“Why?”

I turn, wiping the sweat from my brow with my arm.

“Because she’s not going to lose her shit every time there’s an emergency.

You won’t have to hold her together. And you can live in New York or San Francisco or wherever the hell you want to live because with her the possibilities are endless.

” I jab a dirty finger into my chest. “But I’m going to be wherever that young boy is for the next ten years, watching him grow into a man because that’s all I want to do.

That’s it. I don’t need to travel. I don’t need a fancy career.

A husband. I don’t need anything except rainy soccer days and weekend matinees at the theater.

My future is spectating. Not interfering.

Not taking something that is no longer mine. ”

Murphy’s expression sags and he looks away. “What’s his name? Can you at least tell me that?”

“Cameron.”

“Cameron,” he echoes. “What’s his last name? ”

I shake my head. “Go to New York, Murphy. He’s not an orphan. He’s a young boy with a family who loves him. Two younger sisters. A Bernedoodle. Friends. He deserves the best, and that’s exactly what he has.”

Murphy twists his lips and eyes me for a few seconds before nodding. Then he pulls something from his pocket and hands it to me.

I squint past the sun in my eyes and reach for the shiny thing—the ring. I left my engagement ring at his rental in the cabinet with the wine glasses. He’s kept it all this time.

“I waited,” he says. “Even when I moved on, a part of me waited. To be with you? To see you? To give you the ring? Or maybe just to know you’re okay? I don’t know. But I waited.”

I don’t try to hide the tears as I stare at the ring and listen to his words. “I’m okay,” I murmur.

“I know you are.” He turns and heads back to the house while I swallow the pain that comes with closure.

I stare at the ring in my hand. I found it in his closet two days before the accident. Chris said I ruined the moment by being so snoopy. So I jokingly said I wasn’t going to marry him anyway. It was a lie that became our horrific truth.