“I promise, I’m on the pill.”

He gives me a pointed stare as he comes out of the shower.

“The point is it was stupid. Sloppy. I don’t make mistakes like that.” His voice still sounds so heavy. I wonder if he hears it—all the pain and worry hidden in that deep growl.

“It’s fine. I trust you.”

“Why would you do that?” It’s a harsh statement, and I flinch at the accusation.

This thing between us was inevitable, a force we both had no power against. And I can admit it’s just sex. I have to focus on keeping myself safe, not getting attached. But his flippant disregard still stings.

“Beats me,” I answer, leaving him in his room and escaping down the hallway to the living room.

Put another wall up.

Keep him at a distance.

The house has a little more life today. Ruby is up and moving around, although she still looks a little like a zombie while she does it.

Lucy is sitting at the dining room table cutting paper and coloring. In my limited experience with children, I’m actually surprised to see how quiet this girl is. It’s like she can read the mood of the room and keeps her mood the same.

“Coffee?” Ruby asks without looking at me. She’s mindlessly washing the dishes. I want to hug her, show her some comfort, but her current expression is somewhere between fuck off and fuck the hell off.

I touch her arm as I pass toward the coffee maker. The relationship between Ruby and Hazel was ambiguous at best, but it was clearly stronger than your usual housekeeper and homeowner relationship. Either that or Ruby is taking this all very hard.

What am I supposed to say at this point? Hazel’s body was just removed last night. We have to start planning the funeral and discuss the will. I’m anxious to get things going, but I don’t want to come across as too eager.

After pouring myself a cup, I sit down next to Lucy. She gives me a sweet smile, which I return. “What are you making?” I ask.

“Flowers.” She’s cutting petal-shaped paper and coloring it with a small box of crayons.

“Can I help?”

She nods her head immediately and passes me paper and scissors. It’s just the kind of mindless work that keeps me busy while I wait for news about Hazel’s funeral. Of course, while I’m cutting and coloring, my mind keeps replaying the moments of last night with Murph.

Being with Murph was nothing like being with Hugo. Murph was passionate, attentive. He seemed to read my expressions and small movements, adjusting his motion, his position, his touch to exactly where I wanted it.

Not to mention, Murph turns me on more than any man ever has. His sharp eyes, thick beard, intoxicating presence. His touch on my body made me feel sexier than ever. No, it was more than that. It made me alive.