Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“I love the name Ophelia. And I bet she meets a rugged cowboy out west.”
Murphy laughed. “Ya think?”
“I do.”
“Is that what you’re looking for? A rugged cowboy who keeps you barefoot and pregnant on his big ranch?”
I twisted my lips. “Milking cows and goats? Collecting eggs? Baking bread? Sure. That would work.”
“Synchronized swimming in a big pond?”
I giggled. “Exactly.”
“And you’d have plenty of turtles, so there wouldn’t be any need to steal them.”
I grinned, elbowing his arm.
It was all a wonderful dream.
Chapter Seventeen
Murphy
The past can never be changed,
but we can change how we look at it.
If I’m honest, Alice was my first love. I’d had girlfriends, and we threw around that four letter word with the same carelessness as any other word. But Alice was different.
Every day mattered. She lived without reservation. When we were together, there was nothing to chase. No dreams. No tomorrows. Every moment with her felt like the reason for existing, like I’d figured out the meaning of life.
In a blink, she was ripped away from me, and I spent years recovering from a fortnight.
I’ve moved on, but there’s still an invisible string attached to her. And now she’s here, and I can’t break that string. Every time she looks at me, that string gets tighter and stronger, and I fear I’ll break before it does.
“Do either of you know anyone in New York?” Vera asks as the four of us drink around the rectangular fire pit table on the patio overlooking the pool after dinner. “Or will you have to make new friends?”
“Cam and Sage are in Brooklyn. They’ll be at our wedding, and they’re getting married two weeks after us, so we’ll be back from our honeymoon in time to attend their wedding. It’s in Buffalo because that’s where most of Sage’s family lives,” Blair says with her feet propped on my leg.
“Do I know Cam and Sage?” Hunter asks.
“No.” Blair shakes her head. “But Mom met Sage when we took the girls’ trip to London last summer.”
“I’m going to use the restroom. Excuse me,” I say, lifting her feet from my legs and resting them on the love seat. “Can I get anyone anything while I’m inside?”
“We’re good, but thanks,” Hunter answers for everyone since the women don’t seem to hear me.
After I take a piss and head toward the back of the house, I hear something from the open window in the kitchen. Alice is in the yard between the main house and the guesthouse, playing cornhole by herself with a canned beverage in one hand. The boards are dimly lit by the LED path lights next to the hedges.
I exit through the front door so Blair and her parents don’t see me walk to the side of house. “Who’s winning?” I ask.
Alice jumps, turning toward me.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She returns a shy smile, curling her hair behind one ear. It’s wavy like she let it air-dry. One of her shorts pockets is frayed and ripped, and she’s barefoot. She’s never looked so beautiful. And why that thought just popped into my mind is not only disturbing, but frustrating. I love Blair. She is beautiful. Alice is nothing but a door that never got closed, and these feelings are nothing more than a distracting draft of air, blowing my common sense around like a scattered pile of papers.
“Currently, I’m in the lead, but it’s a close game.” The corner of her mouth twitches.
I grin, sliding my hands into my back pockets. “Are either of you any good?”
She sips her orange Olipop soda before bobbing her head. “We’re okay.”
“There are a lot of bags in the hole. Looks like one of you is more than okay.”
“Just a lucky night.”
I nod. “I’ve wanted to apologize again for the pool incident. Or perhaps I should thank you. Had I been drowning, you would have saved my life.”
“It’s fine. Forgotten. Don’t worry about it.” She retrieves the red bags, tucking a couple under her arm since she only has one hand to use.
“I can probably play a quick game with you before anyone sends out the search party for me.” I pluck the blue bags off the ground.
She eyes me for a few seconds before nodding, but I don’t miss her tiny grin. And I wonder if it’s any sort of recognition or a familiar feeling, or if she’s just happy to have someone to beat.
“You can go first,” she says.
I ready myself to toss the bag. “Years ago, I owned a vacation rental. A guest challenged me to a game of cornhole, and she kicked my butt in a matter of minutes. I haven’t played since then.” I toss the bag and hit the board, but nowhere near the hole.
“Bruised ego? Is that why you haven’t played again?” she asks, tossing the red bag right into the hole.