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 know what you told me!” He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “I know. I know what you told me. But that was then, and this is now. And I’m all too aware that we haven’t known each other for a full two weeks yet, but I don’t care, Alice. Some things in life you don’t have to figure out. You just know. And I know,” he jabbed a finger into his chest, “that you didn’t come here for a two-week fling.
“I know it’s killing you too. And I don’t know if you’re married, if you have two kids and a dog waiting for you. I don’t know if you’re terminally ill, or just really fucking lost in life, but I want to. I want to know everything about you because you didn’t give me a chance not to fall in love with you. Instead, you made up this stupid rule that I am not allowed to have feelings. And it was cute at first, but then you just … FUCK!” He turned his back to me, hands laced behind his neck, head bowed as he huffed.
I wiped more tears as the oil in the skillet smoked. So I quickly pushed it off the burner. “Ouch!” I recoiled my hand after the metal burned it.
Murphy whipped around and shut off the burner before turning on the water and guiding my hand underneath the stream. I didn’t look at the burn mark; I stared at the scar a few inches above it on my forearm.
Everything good in life left a mark.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat, waiting for Murphy to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he retrieved a first aid kit from the linen closet, applied burn cream, and wrapped my hand as I sat on a dining room chair. Then, without breaking the silence, he stood, leaned forward and kissed my cheek, letting his lips linger while I closed my eyes.
I didn’t open them until after the thud of his feet faded and the back door clicked shut behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alice
Commitment is messy. Keep it simple.
I can’t break the fourth wall, but I want to.
Murphy knows I remember him. But the second one of us acknowledges it, the illusion will be shattered. There will be questions and consequences. So why did he almost do it?
I have a good life. Good enough.
And so does he.
In the fall, he will marry Blair and move to New York. I will stay here and put most of my paycheck into savings so I can buy a house in Edina.
Single and alone.
During the holidays, Mr. and Mrs. Murphy Paddon will come home to visit. Perhaps they will bring their children, and I can be the nanny while the adults go to dinner and sit in a private box at the theater to watch The Nutcracker.
Maybe Vera will die, and Hunter will make me his secret lover.
As I serve breakfast to Blair, Murphy, and their children, I’ll overhear one of their kids saying he heard Grandpa Morrison making noises the previous night. Murphy will discreetly mumble to Blair, “Sounds like your dad found someone to suck his old, gray balls.”
Blair will gasp and slap his arm, but not before snorting. She’ll say, “Stop! That’s gross. Can you imagine who would be desperate enough to sleep with my old dad?”
“Do you have something you’d like to tell me?” Hunter asks, bringing me out of my ridiculous hallucination as I refill his coffee.
What is wrong with me? Why does my mind wander so far out of reality?
It’s just him and Murphy for an early breakfast. They have a tee time in an hour, and Blair and Vera are still in bed. Murphy eyes me, glancing up from his plate of steak that Hunter has him eating every morning, too. He shamed him with something about “real men” being carnivores. But I like to believe that Murphy eats steak because I’m the one cooking it.
“Sorry. Was there something I was supposed to do for you?” I press my lips together and squint at Hunter.
“Yes. You’re supposed to work for me. But I got a text from my neighbor saying you baked him a pie for his birthday and spanked him in his birthday suit.”
Murphy snickers, pressing a fist to his mouth while coughing.
I shrug. “I was told by the powers that be that a good homemaker bakes pies for neighbors. But the spanking him in his birthday suit was on my own time.” I shoot him a toothy grin. “Not on the clock.”
Hunter scowls at Murphy when he won’t stop laughing.
“Did he try to steal you?” Hunter asks.
I nod.
“How much?”
“Double what you’re paying me.”
“Christ.” Hunter shakes his head. “Before you pack your bags and cross the line into enemy territory, just know that he won’t be paying you to cook him breakfast and do his laundry. He’ll make you wear a bikini while you apply hemorrhoid cream to his ass. I might be ‘needy’ according to the missus, but Rupert Rawlings is nothing but a blend of vanilla-flavored meal replacement sludge and dick enhancement drugs. Now,” he takes one last sip of his coffee and stands, “if you’ll excuse me, I need to smother my wife with a pillow and brush my teeth so we don’t miss our tee time.”