Page 36 of The Homemaker
She quickly grabs her shoes and hurries toward the guesthouse.
“Alice!” I don’t run, but I take bigger strides to catch up to her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She shakes her head and mumbles with a shaky voice, “It’s … uh, it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. You’re soaking wet, and it’s my fault.” I follow her to the slider door at the side of the guesthouse.
With her back to me, she unbuttons her dress and lets it fall to her feet. It’s wrong to look at her, but it’s so familiar, not eight years ago familiar, more like eight seconds. She opens the door and takes one step inside, wearing just a white bra and underwear.
My chest constricts. She’s no longer for my eyes, my hands, my fucking heart, but that’s just my brain searching for a little self-preservation. That spark, the invisiblethingthat was always between us, is still here. Her lack of acknowledging it doesn’t make it less true; it just makes the pain cut a little deeper because what was so right is now so wrong.
“Do you remember me?” I ask.
She stops.
I’m afraid of either answer.
Never mind. As she takes another step into the house and closes the door, I realize I’m most afraid of not knowing.
I run my fingers through my hair. “Shit.”
“How many kids do you want? Is it weird that we haven’t discussed this?” Blair asks as we get dressed to go to dinner with her parents.
I button my shirt. “We’ve discussed kids.”
“Yes, but not how many we should have or when we want to start our family. I’m thinking two, preferably close together so we can just go all in with the parenting phase of our life. And we’re not getting any younger, so I say we try within the next year. What do you think?” She applies lip gloss in the full-length mirror.
“I’m thirty-two, and you’re twenty-seven. I wouldn’t call that old. I think we should take it one day at a time.”
She traces the edge of her lower lip. “What’s up with your mood?”
“My mood?” I slide my wallet into my pocket.
“You’ve been dying to just elope, skip the big wedding, and start our future as soon as possible. But now that I want to discuss our future, you seem hesitant, like you’re putting on the brakes. If you don’t want to start a family right away, we don’t have to. I’m just saying I don’t want to miss our window. I’ll blink and be in perimenopause. Did you know Elise Rayburn, who lived next to us in San Francisco, is already in perimenopause, and she’s only thirty-five?”
I nod slowly.
“Murphy, what is your deal?” She turns toward me, capping her lip gloss. “Are you worried I’m going to break off our engagement or leave you at the altar?”
“Should I be?” I narrow my eyes at her.
Blair flicks her wrist, waving me off. “Stop. You let my dad get into your head too much. Before long, you’ll be asking me to read to you before bed.” She smirks, sliding her feet into her heels.
“Fine. I want five kids. Three boys first, then two girls,” I say.
Blair coughs, smacking her hand over her chest. “W-what?” Her eyes widen as she chuckles.
I shake my head. “I’m kidding, just testing you.”
She straightens my tie. “What kind of test is that?”
“Okay, not a test, just a bad joke. Sorry.”
She offers her cheek, and I kiss it.
It’s a nice cheek.
She’s a nice woman.
