Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
He sips his water then nods. “Thanks. They’re great kids. Now, if you want to share something about your personal life, I’m happy to listen in a very casual way.”
“Thanks.” I smile.
“Thanks? That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say? I told you I didn’t finish college, and I’ve worked odd jobs for the past seven years.”
“But you never said why you dropped out of school.”
I sit on the barstool at the counter. “Why does anyone drop out of school?”
“Failing grades. Lack of interest or money. Life-changing event. Job offer that doesn’t require a degree. There are a lot of reasons. What was yours?”
I drum my fingers on the side of the can. “A friend died, and I lost focus and desire to continue with school.”
He eyes me for a beat before slowly shaking his head. “I’m sorry to hear about your friend.”
“Thanks.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard.”
“No. It wasn’t. Do you want to tell me more about your kids?”
He sits on the stool beside me so my knees slide between his spread legs. “No. We’ll take it slow. Names and ages are good for today.”
I giggle. “Stop. Point made. I can handle it.”
“Let’s talk about your job. Aside from free rent, do you like it?”
“Yeah. So far. It’s too early to say, but they’re fascinating, and it’s oddly satisfying.”
“Fascinating? Satisfying?”
“Mmm. Yes. The wealthy live such different lives. They have time to worry about stupid shit like politics and if the hedges need to be trimmed one or two inches. And they have the luxury of fixing everything with money, including things that are less than perfect in their marriage. I feel like a missing link. The glue that could hold their marriage together. Like the opposite of the mistress that tears happy couples apart.”
“That’s weird.”
I sip my orange drink then laugh. “I think the less Vera resents doing things she doesn’t like to do, and the less Hunter resents her not doing what he thinks a wife should do, the less they fight. Boom! Happy marriage.”
“Spoken like someone who has never been married.”
“Spoken like someone who is no longer married. You haven’t told me why your marriage ended.”
He opens his mouth.
I shake my head. “Nope. I don’t want to know. That’s more than you’d tell a stranger in line.”
“God I love your fear of commitment.” Callen slides off the barstool and kisses my cheek. “Your eagerness to screw.” He finishes his water and sets the glass in the sink. “And your complete lack of neediness. You’re a fucking dream, Alice.”
“I do my best.”
My thoughts drift to Murphy. He must think I’m a fucking nightmare.
Chapter Six
Murphy
It doesn’t have to make sense now.
It will … eventually.
“Seriously. What if she’s dying, and she’s decided to find her replacement now?” Blair asks, as we stretch on our side of the pickleball net while we wait for her parents to join us. “Murphy, are you listening to me?”
“Uh-huh,” I mumble. My focus is shit. It’s taken me years to move past the best and worst two weeks of my life.
And now, Alice is here, and she doesn’t remember me. Maybe that’s good, but my heart feels every scar she left behind.
“And what’s with the housedress and apron? Hair in the perfect ponytail? Heels? Murphy, that woman wears heels to do housework. It’s weird, like she’s doing it to impress my father. I know my parents can be a little eccentric, but a homemaker? He needs therapy. Right? Murphy?”
“Huh?” I muster a convincing smile.
Blair frowns. “What is going on with you? You’ve been off today. Everyone is acting strange except me. Is there something in the water?” Blair steps in front of me, demanding my attention as I focus on the guesthouse.
“I don’t think your mom is sick,” I mumble, refocusing on the woman I’m going to marry instead of the woman who derailed my life and made me question said life’s purpose.
“Ready to have your clocks cleaned by people twice your age?” Hunter asks as he and Vera take the court in matching white shorts and light green polos.
We laugh it off, but then her parents make us chase the plastic ball around the court for two hours, kicking our asses. After the women head inside to get showered for dinner. Hunter fetches two bottles of beer, and we sit by the pool.
“My daughter’s pissed about Alice,” he says.
I take a swig of my beer and shrug. “She thinks Vera is ill, and”— it hurts to say her name, but I do it anyway—“Alice is her replacement in training.”
He barks a laugh. “That would be something. Vera’s not terminally ill. Blair just doesn’t understand our marriage. You kids are young, and you only see the first stage of love. Think of it like hot chocolate with marshmallows. It looks amazing when it’s fresh and hot. It’s really sweet. And you just can’t stop licking and sucking on the marshmallows. Well, that’s the early years of marriage. Then the marshmallows shrink. They’re not the mouthful they used to be, not as firm, and the chocolate isn’t as hot as it used to be. But then, you realize all it needs is thirty seconds in the microwave and a handful of new marshmallows, and suddenly you like your hot chocolate again. See what I mean?”