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)
Vera knows Blair doesn’t splurge on herself that often, so when they’re together, she showers her daughter with gifts.
“Looks like a successful day.” I say, nodding to the bags.
When I look at her, my heart aches. What am I doing? And why can’t I stop? Is Alice a drug? Drugs destroy families.
Blair tosses the bags onto the bed. “I suppose.” She plops down and frowns, gathering her hair over one shoulder to braid it. It’s what she does when she’s nervous. “I hate that we’re fighting.”
“Are we? I just assumed you were upset with me, not an actual fight. I’m not upset with you.”
She deflates like I’m weighing her down with all the blame. It’s not my intention.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive or keep anything from you. It might take some time for me to perfect running every thought through a filter. But I’ll try because I’m sure it sounds worse than I mean it to sound. I don’t have icks or whatever you call them. Stress is my excuse, but it’s not a good one, and it’s not your problem.”
Blair runs her fingers through her braid to undo it. “How can you say that? Your problems are mine, and mine are yours.”
Had Alice felt that way eight years earlier, would we still be together? If she would have trusted me with her past and the trauma, would I have been able to prevent her from going to a psychiatric hospital?
“Why so many lines on your handsome face?” Blair finds her favorite spot straddling my lap. She runs her fingers along my forehead, tracing the craters of worry. “You’re not going to call off the wedding, are you? This isn’t a cruel joke where you’re trying to teach me a lesson, right?” She laughs, but it’s not without a hint of true concern.
“I would never call off our wedding to teach you a lesson.”
“You’d crush me, baby,” she whispers. “I wouldn’t survive not spending forever with you.” Her hands press to my cheeks.
They’re gentle.
Warm.
Familiar.
I rest my hands on her hips. The proximity to her I’ve craved since we met no longer feels right. Then again, nothing feels right. Whatever internal gauge or natural instinct I’m supposed to have feels broken.
Chapter Forty-One
Murphy
Never underestimate the power of the last bite.
“You’re on your own, babe.” Blair wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me before slinging her handbag over her shoulder.
“On my own?” I wipe the sweat from my brow with a towel, drinking electrolyte water in the kitchen.
It’s been a week since Blair and I “made up” of sorts. Alice has performed her homemaker duties without giving me too many second glances, and I’ve tried to pretend that I’m not thinking about her nonstop.
“Mom’s taking me to a wine tasting at Aunt Tammy’s house, and Dad just left to have dinner at the club with friends. Alice asked for the night off, so you’re on your own for dinner. Maybe order something to be delivered.” She glosses her lips just as Vera steps around the corner.
“She’s watching a play again. I think she said her nephew is in it,” Vera says, sliding her phone into her purse.
“Where’s the play?” I casually ask.
“Uh, I assume at the children’s theater,” Vera says.
“Why? Are you going to wait for her to get back to make you dinner?” Blair snorts.
“Think she would?” I smirk, and Blair rolls her eyes as expected.
“Before long, we’ll be married and living in New York without a homemaker. You’d better get used to takeout food.”
“Noted.” I shoot her a toothy grin.
As soon as they pull out of the driveway, I head to the children’s theater. Why did Alice lie to me about being an only child?
I laugh when I see the sign out front with the performance title. Alice in Wonderland.
The theater is less than half full. So it doesn’t take me long to find Alice’s long, wavy auburn hair in the third row from the stage. I sit in the back and read through the program with the list of cast members. If Alice’s real last name is Yates, and she has a brother, then his son’s name should be Yates too. But there is no one listed with that last name.
During the standing ovation, Alice scoots out of her aisle, clutches her purse, and walks up the stairs to the exit. On a double take, she spies me and stops. As soon as I stand, she continues out of the theater and the building as if she didn’t see me.
“Don’t act like you don’t know I’m here,” I say, following her to her car parked along the street.
“I’m pretending you didn’t follow me because that would be creepy.” She unlocks her door.
“Curious. Not creepy. You told me you were an only child. Yet, you have a nephew. I’m confused.”