Page 111 of The Homemaker
She grabs my wrists and swallows hard.
“Doyou hear me?” I repeat.
“Yeah,” she whispers.
I lift my head and press my lips to the spot it had been.
“I should go,” she says.
“No. Let’s get something to eat. Grab a drink. Take a walk. Whatever. Just … don’t go yet.”
Indecision lines her brow. “You don’t have to burn everything down like I did.”
My thumb brushes her cheek. “What if I do?”
We walk to a nearby café, and she orders a salad while I get a piece of turtle cake with ice cream.
“Do you want me stealing your salad?” I tease her when she reaches across the table and sinks her fork into my cake, scooping up a generous bite.
She opens her mouth like a shark and shoves in the cake. When she grins with ice cream dripping down her chin, my heart feels as gooey as the caramel. “Help yourself,” she mumbles with her mouth full.
“It’s not too late to go back to your passion.”
She squints.
“Acting.”
“Mmm.” She nods. “What do you think I’m doing now? Every day, I put on a costume, do my hair and makeup, and take the stage. Only the stage is a multi-million-dollar home. And I get subtle compliments and access to a pool instead of a standing ovation.”
“That makes me an actor too?” I ask.
She sips her hibiscus tea and shrugs. “Sure. We’re all actors in this thing called life. We take on roles: spouse, parent, child, friend, boss, employee … lover.” Her lips twitch with a hint of amusement, but it fades just as quickly. “We don’t even know why we’re here. To make the world a better place? To love? To procreate? To simply exist? Or is it a game? No one knows. But we don’t know what else to do. So here we are doing whatever the ‘thing’ is. And we have traditions and rules to live by that are supposed to make it easier and perhaps give life more meaning.
“But I feel like I’m not supposed to be here—” She quickly gives me a hard headshake before I can protest. “Soin some ways, the rules feel like they don’t apply to me. And that’s freeing. However, you’re following a path, so the rules should matter to you.”
“What rules?”
“The kind that says you should love, honor, and cherish the one you’ve chosen and be faithful to her, forsaking all others.” She reaches her fork across the table again.
I block it, sliding my bowl away from her. “Nope. You don’t get to guilt me like that, then steal my cake. I don’t care that you think the rules don’t apply to you. I’m enforcing the no-sharing rule until you apologize for ruining a perfectly good night.”
Alice giggles. “I’m sorry.”
“Prove it.”
“How am I supposed to prove it?”
“Kiss me.”
Her cheeks flush. “Stop.”
I take another bite and close my eyes. “Mmm, this issogood and almost gone.”
She reaches for the bowl, and I shield it by curling my arm round it.
Taking another bite of her salad, she squints at me.
I scoop the last big bite into my spoon, and her gaze shifts to it. In the next breath, she tosses her napkin on the table beside her plate and moves to my side of the booth. I peer down at her, and we have a stare off. When she leans in, I duck my head to kiss her because I need to feel her mouth against mine.
