Page 72 of The Homemaker
Seconds later, it chimes again.
“Babe, can I call you back?”
I pull in a shaky breath.
“I’m just in the middle of something.”
I open the door.
“It’s not your dad. No, I’m just?—”
I close the door behind me, run up the stairs, out the back door, and straight to the guesthouse.
“There you are,” Callen says, sliding off the barstool at my counter.
I gasp.
“Alice, what’s wrong?”
I shake my head a half dozen times. “Nothing. It’s uh, nothing.”
He pulls me into a hug. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”
It’s tempting to fall apart in his arms, but then it can’t be nothing.
“I was jogging, and a dog chased me. It scared me. Then the owner called him back. It’s fine. I’m fine.” The lie makes my stomach twist. Navigating untold truths is easier than weaving lies that will, eventually, tangle around my neck into a noose.
“Damn. I’m glad you’re okay.” He kisses the side of my head. “I was hoping we could go to dinner. I leave town tomorrow. You hungry?”
I’m not even a little hungry, but I nod anyway. “Let me grab a quick shower.” I duck my head and wipe my nose while sliding past him.
“Need help?”
I sniffle and force a tiny laugh. “I’m afraid we won’t make it to dinner if you help me. I’ll be quick.”
When I’m safely behind the bathroom door, I turn on the fan and water, strip off my clothes, and step into the shower. The sobs break free when I cover my mouth with a washcloth and slide down the shower wall.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Murphy
Trust is unrealistic.
It’s how foolish people pretend they have control.
Eight Years Earlier …
It was official.The night before Alice had to leave, I took her on our first date. In honor of the occasion, I made reservations at an upscale Japanese restaurant. And I wore a suit and tie since she seemed to enjoy how I looked the day of my grandfather’s funeral.
Cologne.
Perfect hair.
And a small bouquet of pink dahlias.
I knocked on the front door instead of the back door, and she slowly opened it.
“What are you doing coming to this door?” she askedbefore her breath caught, then her grin swelled when I handed her the flowers. “Murphy,” she whispered, failing to hide the emotion in her eyes as she stepped aside to let me in. “They're beautiful.” She took the bouquet and kissed me.
