Page 45 of The Homemaker
“Murphy, it’s your comparison, not mine.”
She was right. It was a weird and stupid idea.
“Well, then I’ll see you later.”
“Again, I’m sorry for your loss.” She shot me one last glance and frowned.
“Thanks.” I turned toward the door, then stopped. “I mean … you’ve been to a funeral, right?”
She deposited another card in a row.
“Alice?”
“Do you mind if I use your bike again?”
She heard me. Right?
“Of course you can use my bike.”
“Thank you.”
I opened my mouth to say more about the funeral, and just as quickly, I clamped my jaw shut. Part of me felt close, maybe even connected, to Alice. After all, we’d been intimate. She gave me her body. What more could she have given?
A lot.
She, by plan, gave me nothing disguised as everything. And I didn’t know if I could or should ask for more. I had a feeling that what I loved most about her wasn’t real.
After the funeral, burial, and luncheon, I returned home with great intentions of asking Alice a few personal questions that didn’t start with “hypothetically.” However, when I stepped into the backyard, loosening my tie, my desire to dig up her dark secrets died because she was face down on the outdoor sectional, sunning herself in just her undergarments—her bra unhooked to prevent a tan line.
She turned her head toward me. “Hi,” she said, instead of asking me about the funeral.
“Are you wearing sunscreen?”
“Sure.” She closed her eyes and smirked.
“Who put it on your back?” I slowly walked up the patio stairs, unbuttoning the top two buttons of my dress shirt.
“Palmer, of course.”
I chuckled. “Did you go for a bike ride?” I moved her glass of water and sat on the ceramic side table.
“Mm-hm.”
She seemed relaxed, maybe even receptive to answer some questions. But my dick had a different case to make. I glanced around as if I could tell if any neighbors were peering at us from their second-story windows.
“My parents invited me to dinner at their house tonight since we have a lot of family in town.” I ghosted my fingertips up the back of her leg. “Would you like to come with me?” My finger teased along her underwear while I bent forward to kiss her shoulder.
“You can’t touch me like this while talking about your parents.”
I kissed her cheek, and she grinned.
“Maybe we can revisit this conversation in a half hour,” I whispered before kissing her ear, inhaling subtle hints of floral inher hair.
“A half hour?” She peeked open one eye. “Are we trying something new? A half hour seems a little slow for our pace.”
“New indeed.” I kissed her shoulder again. “Just hear me out. I was thinking we could try a bed. I realize that seems unconventional, and we love things like desks, tables, walls, and the back of the sofa so much better, but I’m in the mood to venture into uncharted territory with you. What do you say?”
“Aren’t you sad about your grandpa?”
