Page 54 of The Homemaker (The Chain of Lakes #1)

Chapter Fifty-Two

Alice

Go ahead and dream big.

You just never know what might happen.

Two Months Later …

I make an offer on the house in Edina, the one across the street from Cameron’s, but a couple expecting their first child outbids me. I’m crushed.

The only upside is Hunter securing me a boring but well-paying job with his friend who lives in a penthouse in downtown Minneapolis. It doesn’t include free residence, but that’s okay. For now, I’ve found an apartment in Edina, so stalking seeing my son is easy and convenient.

I don’t have Murphy’s phone number, a nice dose of Karma, and I haven’t figured out a way to get it from Hunter or Vera without it being a red flag. What would I say anyway? Choose me? It’s a little too late for that. He chose neither Blair nor me, and I don’t blame him.

Still, I miss him.

Today is the start of fall soccer season.

I have no idea what field Cameron is playing on, reminiscent of the day I met Callen.

Ugh, Callen … he could be here too. A grin steals my face when I see Cameron’s parents and his two younger sisters setting up their chairs near Field C.

As the boys run in all directions doing their warm-up drills, I scan the cluster of blue jerseys for the dark-haired boy with freckles.

Warmth spreads through my chest when I see him kick the ball toward the goal then run to the back of the line.

The coach playfully ruffles Cameron’s hair, drawing a grin from him.

I set up my folding chair well behind the lineup of parents. And just as I sit down, Cameron’s dad stands to chat with the new coach. The two men laugh at something, then the coach removes his baseball hat to scratch the back of his head.

What the fuck?

It’s Murphy. He’s the new coach? I grip the arms of my chair, anger building deep in my belly.

How could he? I was very clear about not interrupting Cameron’s life.

What has he done? What has he said? I push out of my chair, feeling the anger climb up my neck and settle into my cheeks.

That’s when Murphy’s attention drifts past the sidelines and lands on me.

He grins so big that a few of the moms, including Cameron’s, glance behind them to see what’s caught his attention.

I want to die, but not before I kill him.

He waves me over. “Come meet the parents, honey! ”

Come meet the parents? Honey?

What has he done? My stomach twists as I shuffle my feet on wobbly legs closer to the field.

“This is my wife, Alice,” he says.

My eyes widen, body stiffens. Wife? WIFE!?

“When did you get back from Paris?” Cameron’s mom asks me, tightening her short, blond ponytail.

This is the fourth wall that’s never supposed to be broken. I’m so scared, yet my heart feels something new and unexpected as this pleasant woman who’s been raising my child smiles at me, asking about a trip to Paris I know nothing about.

“Late last night,” Murphy answers for me when the pause gets too awkward. He takes my hand and pulls me into his body. After he turns his cap backwards, he whispers, “Hi” and gives me a soft kiss.

I don’t kiss him back because I can’t move or speak, let alone kiss my …. husband?

“Bring your chair closer,” Cameron’s mom says. “We’ll scoot over to make room for one more.”

“I have to get back to the boys,” Murphy says. “Enjoy the game.” He winks and rights his hat before sauntering to the middle of the field.

“I’m Rose and this is my husband, Jonathan. Babe, grab Alice’s chair for her.”

“Oh, I can get—” Before I can get my brain and mouth to fully cooperate, Jonathan is halfway to my deserted chair.

“These are our two girls, Casey and Aurora.”

The two blond girls don’t give me a single glance. They’re too busy sorting their M&Ms by color on their laps.

“Thank you,” I find two more words to offer when Cameron’s dad sets my chair next to Rose .

“Our son is the next one in line to kick the ball. The one with the shaggy brown hair. He needs a haircut,” Rose laughs. “His name is Cameron.”

“Cameron,” I murmur softly.

Tears burn my eyes, so I slip on my sunglasses. This is awful. It’s also wonderful. I’m freaking out, fighting back tears.

Happy tears.

Fearful tears.

What is happening?

“So Murphy told us you’re an executive assistant for some wealthy businessman. Do you get to take lots of trips around the world?” Rose asks.

“Um,” I clear my throat, keeping my focus on the players and their coach, “not usually. My job involves more mundane tasks at his residence. The Paris trip was a surprise.”

“Do you speak French?” she asks.

“No. Not really.” A nervous laugh escapes. “Not at all actually.”

“Well, if you ever need help, Jonathan speaks fluent French. Right, babe?” She rests her hand on his knee.

He keeps his focus on the field. “Oui.”

I feel my first genuine smile. She’s the golden retriever in their relationship and he’s the black cat.

“He’s taught all the kids to speak French, but I’m the worst. We’ve been married for fifteen years, and I think I’ve learned less than ten words.” She laughs.

A new round of tears pool in my eyes. I like her so much. And my son speaks French?

The game begins, and my heart can’t keep up with so much emotion. I don’t know what Murphy’s been up to for the past two months, but somewhere along the way he decided Cameron is his son, something we will never know for sure.

I don’t know if that makes him delusional or the best man who ever lived.

After the win, all the parents clap and cheer, and so do I because I have a boy on the field too. The teams line up to shake hands, fist bumps, really.

Cameron runs toward Rose and Jonathan. Thank god for my sunglasses. I wipe my tears before they slip into view. My heart might burst. Aside from the day I gave birth to him, the day I let him go, this is the closest I’ve been to my son.

“Good game, baby.” Rose hugs him.

My heart is in my throat.

“Nice job, champ,” Jonathan says when Cameron gives him a hug.

“Cam, this is Coach Paddon’s wife, Alice.” Rose introduces me to my son.

I can’t speak, no matter how hard I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. So I smile, and I hope that says it all.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, holding out his hand.

Gah!

They’ve raised such a polite young man. I’m grateful and proud, and a million other things that I can’t articulate yet.

I shake his hand, holding it a little too long, but I can’t help myself. Then I manage a quick, “You too,” without completely falling apart.

He’s even more beautiful, handsome, cute, just everything more than I’ve been able to capture from a distance. His eyes are hazel.

Mine are blue.

Chris’s were blue .

I know that doesn’t mean we couldn’t have made a child with hazel eyes, but Murphy has hazel eyes.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll see you this afternoon,” Rose says.

She will?

I smile and nod.

The parents collect their chairs and children while I remain rooted in the same spot. Is this real?

Murphy and the other coach gather the soccer balls and practice cones in a mesh bag.

“See ya at practice tomorrow,” the other coach says to Murphy before heading toward the parking lot with one of the players, probably his son.

“We won,” Murphy says, sliding my chair into its bag. Then he sets it aside and slowly removes my sunglasses, sliding them onto my head.

I feel my puffy eyes, so I can only imagine how red and swollen they must be.

His hands cup my face, thumbs caressing my cheeks. “We won,” he whispers again.

He’s not talking about the game.

“I realize that’s nothing new to you, but it’s new to me, and it feels really fucking good.” He grins before kissing me.

I wrap my arms around his neck, and we kiss until a new group of players and parents head toward the field for the next game.

Murphy ends the kiss and grins. “I want to show you something.” He carries the bag of equipment and my chair in one hand while leading me to the parking lot with his other hand holding mine.

“This was risky, Murphy. I was so mad at you when I saw you on the field. You were too close. We’re not his parents.”

He chuckles, loading things into the back of a deep cherry-red pickup. It suits him better than a white luxury SUV.

“I know. We’re something else.” He closes the tailgate.

“What?”

He grabs my waist and nuzzles his face into my neck. “You’ll see. Where are you parked?”

I point a few rows over.

“Okay. Follow me.”

I frown which only makes his grin swell. He presses his pointer fingers to the corners of my mouth, forcing a smile.

“Stop.” I turn my head.

“You stop. Stop pouting. Stop worrying. Stop feeling so unworthy. Just follow me. I’ve got you.” He hops into his truck.

I shake my head and weave my way through the packed parking lot to my car because I’m dying to know what he has to show me. Murphy drives slowly so he doesn’t lose me.

The route is familiar. Too familiar.

The tree-lined streets have been etched into my mind for years.

His brake lights illuminate just as we reach Cameron’s house, but his truck crawls past it, turning into the driveway two houses past theirs. I wait for him to back out and turn around, but he doesn’t. When he hops out of his truck, I park on the opposite side of the street.

“What are you doing?” I call, closing my car door behind me.

“I’m hungry. I thought you could make us some lunch. Maybe a nice steak and salad with your secret Dijon dressing recipe.”

I look right before crossing the one-way street. Then I look back at the house I wanted to buy before the current residents outbid me.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, taking hesitant steps up the driveway behind his parked truck.

“You know, a Ribeye or New York strip.” He takes my hand and pulls me to the front door, then he slides a set of keys from his pocket and unlocks it.

“Murphy,” I whisper.

“Don’t forget the house rules: shoes off.” He toes off his sneakers just inside the door of the modest, light green split-level.

I don’t move, so he lowers in front of me to remove my shoes, then takes my hand and leads me up four steps to the main level with oak wood floors and white woodwork. The sun-drenched living room has a wall of windows overlooking a lush backyard. A cozy wood-burning stove sits in the corner.

I turn in a slow circle.

“I was lost,” he says. “Grieving one woman while feeling unworthy of another. I hated how wanting you and being with you was wrong. My heart couldn’t reconcile that.

So I moved in with my mom and I told her everything she never knew.

” He grins. “She asked what I was doing wasting time with her. That’s when I dug out the program from the Alice in Wonderland play and looked for a Cameron.

When I discovered his last name is Beckett, it made it easier to track down his house.

I knew it had to be close to the one you looked at across the street.

Sadly, that house was no longer available, so I started knocking on doors, seeing who would be interested in selling their house to me. ”

“Murphy …” Emotion punches me in the chest .

“The day they accepted the offer was the day I met our son.”

Our son .

“His parents are really great. He’s a well-spoken young man with good manners. And he was kicking a soccer ball around the yard that day, so I kicked it around with him. I asked if he played, and he said yes, but his coach was moving, so they needed a new one.” Murphy shrugs. “I had the time.”

I laugh, wiping my eyes.

“So what are we going to do, beautiful?” He slides his arms around my waist. “Be our son’s neighbors? Coach him? Hire him to mow our lawn? Bake him cookies? Go to his plays?”

I scrape my teeth over my lip and sniffle. “Is that weird?”

He wipes my cheeks and shakes his head. “Yes. And I’m so on board. We’re stalkers, but the good kind. Secret guardians.”

“Just to be clear, you’re asking me to live with you, correct?”

His lips twitch. “Well, since I’ve told everyone I have a wife, I think you living with me is a good idea.”

“When were you going to find me and tell me you bought this house?”

“Never. I knew you’d show up.” He grabs the back of my legs and lifts me to him.

I wrap them around his waist. “So my new role is pretending to be your wife? Your homemaker?”

“Who said anything about pretending?” He kisses my neck. “Wanna see the rest of our house?”

I tease my fingers through his hair and kiss the shell of his ear. “ Yes.”

“Let’s start in the bedroom,” he says, dragging his mouth up my neck while walking us down the hallway.

I giggle when he eases me to my feet then kicks the door shut while shrugging off his shirt.

“Choose me,” I say as he pushes his shorts down his legs.

Murphy glances up, eyeing me for a moment like my words haven’t registered.

“I wanted you to choose me.”

He grins. “I know. I’d already chosen you.

I just wanted you to say it, to feel worthy of this kind of love and happiness.

” He unbuttons my shorts and pulls them down my legs along with my underwear while I remove my shirt.

“But you’re broken, baby.” He kisses a trail up my leg.

“And that’s okay, I’m good at fixing things. ”

“I’m not broken.” I roll my eyes.

“You are.”

I jump when his tongue teases between my legs. Then he continues up my body, removing my bra and kissing my breasts.

“It’s nothing a few weeks of nonstop screwing can’t fix.”

I giggle harder.

He kisses along my jaw, his erection sliding between my legs. “Hi,” he whispers, a breath before his lips claim mine.