Page 55 of The Homemaker
I wasn’t sure if the heart could grieve two things at once. What if I had to let go of one to let go of the other? I blinked back the tears brimming in my burning eyes, and I wrapped my arms around his neck to hug him as hard as possible. He held me just as tightly. And I don’t know how long we stood in the parking lot like this. It felt like an infinite moment, and I knew those arms were the only things holding me together.
After a silent, melancholy drive back to his place, we put away the groceries, and I pulled out a skillet to start dinner.
“It’s my place,” he said.
I glanced over at him. He had his shoulder resting against the fridge, arms crossed over his chest, face pensive.
“What?”
“This is my place,” he said in a chiding tone.
I laughed nervously, drizzling oil into the pan. “I’m aware.”
“I make the rules here. They’re in the binder on the coffee table.”
“I’m aware of that too.” I capped the oil and risked another glance at him.
The muscles in his jaw flexed. “So if I say you’re not allowed to cook for me and then just leave, you have to obey.”
Again, I managed a tiny, nervous laugh as my insides twisted. “Is that so?”
“Yes. And you can’t befriend Palmer and just leave.”
“Mur—”
“And you can’t step all over my toes while I teach you to dance and then just leave.” His face turned red as his volume escalated.
I had no more nervous laughs to offer, just trepidation gripping my chest.
“You can’t let me touch you and kiss you and”—he swallowed hard—“be inside of you and just. Fucking. Leave!” His hands balled into fists.
The already shattered pieces of my heart turned to dust. The nauseating whoosh of blood echoed in my ears. I wasn’t scared of him. I was scared of all the feelings pouring out of him in waves so big I knew they would suffocate me.
In the next blink, several tears slid down my face. “I told you?—”
“I know what you told me!” He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “I know. Iknowwhat 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 chancenotto 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 skilletsmoked. 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 breakthe 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?
