He reached for her hand, thumb warm and steady on the back of it. “I want you,” he said simply, no flourish, no drama, just the brutally honest stuff. “All the boring, infuriating, beautiful bits.”
He counted them off like he meant it. “I want coffee with you in the morning. I want to laugh at stupid shows with you on the couch and for you to fall asleep with your head on my shoulder. I want to be the guy who brings you muffins on busy days and a safe space when life gets to be too much.”
His eyes were fierce now, steady and warm. “I want to be there when your sister needs you, and for you to be there when Patrick and my family need me. I want to be the person you call when something small goes wrong at work or when you read a headline that makes you furious. I want to be in the picture at holidays and at stupid little moments in between. I want a life that’s messy and loud and real.”
He squeezed her hand. “I don’t need ‘perfect.’ I don’t need plans with ten-year timelines. I need you to ask me, to include me, to let me choose you the way I choose you every damn day. I want to build something with you, however we define it.”
He leaned forward, his voice dropping until it was almost reverent. “So the real question is, will you let me? Will you let me be in your life like that?”
Hillary sat there, breath gone, as the words settled into her chest. Tears spilled down her face, hot, surprised, humiliating and utterly, utterly relieved. She hadn’t given him enough credit. She hadn’t given herself enough credit, either.
She swallowed, voice barely a rasp. “I . . . I don’t know how to say yes without wrecking everything.” Her fingers curled around his hand like an anchor. “I’m terrified I’ll ruin you. I’ve beentelling myself I was protecting you, and I—” She broke off, too raw to finish.
Murphy tipped her chin up with a thumb, steady and so calm it steadied her. “You won’t,” he said. “We’ll figure the stuff out. Together. Not you against me. Us.” He squeezed her hand, slow and certain. “Slow if you need. Messy when it needs to be. But together.”
She let out a shaky laugh that was half sob and half yes. “Okay,” she whispered. “Together.”
They leaned in. The kiss this time was soft and clean and full of promise. When they pulled apart, Finn nosed their joined hands and let out a little contented sigh before curling at their feet. The small domestic normalcy of it—dog, couch, two people who had finally stopped pretending—felt like oxygen.
Hillary sat there, breath shallow, tears drying on her cheeks. She hadn’t given him enough credit, hadn’t even given herself the chance to believe this could work.
Murphy cupped her face, his thumbs brushing her damp skin. “Hil.” His voice was soft but steady, anchoring her. “I’ve told you what I want. But what about you?” His eyes searched hers. “What do you want? Not what you think you should want. Not what you think I deserve. What do you actually want?”
The words knocked the air out of her. She opened her mouth, closed it again. For once, she didn’t have a quick answer, a professional pivot, a deflection. Just the truth, sitting heavy in her chest.
“I want you,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Even if it’s messy. Even if I’m terrified. I want you.”
Murphy’s lips curved, the barest smile breaking through his seriousness. Relief, joy, something deeper. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Then that’s all I need.”
Their lips found each other again, slow this time, unhurried, like the first kiss of a new beginning rather than the franticcollisions of stolen moments. Hillary slid her hands into his hair, holding him close as if she could anchor herself in his warmth. Murphy kissed her like he had all the time in the world, patient and steady, promising with every brush of his lips that he wasn’t going anywhere.
For one blissful moment, the rest of the world fell away. No work. No fear. No what-ifs. Just them.
Then something cold and wet pressed against their joined hands. They broke apart with startled laughter as Finn wedged his nose between them, tail wagging furiously, like he’d just saved them from drowning.
“Bad timing, buddy,” Murphy murmured, pressing one last kiss to her temple. “I wasn’t finished.”
Hillary laughed, the sound bubbling up through her tears, lighter than she’d felt in weeks. She scratched behind Finn’s ears as he shoved his golden head into her lap, her chest loosening with every wag of his tail.
48
MURPHY
Murphy leaned back just far enough to take her in. It felt like someone had taken a hundred-pound weight off his shoulders. Hillary sat there, eyes still wet, but softer, open in a way he’d only dreamed of.
He couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at his mouth. She mirrored it, tentative at first, then real. And God, she was beautiful when she let herself just be.
Without thinking, he cupped her face and kissed her again, a steady, certain kiss that tasted like a new beginning.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, and he whispered, “This feels better, doesn’t it?”
Her nod brushed his cheek.
Murphy laughed quietly, a warm rumble in his chest. “I feel like I can finally breathe again.” He kissed her once more, quick but sure, then leaned back enough to study her face. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”
Finn, curled loyally at their feet, gave a happy sigh as if he agreed.
Her fingers slipped under the hem of his T-shirt, skating over his abs, up along the ridges of his chest. He shivered, leaninginto her touch, his own hands roaming over her waist and hips like he’d been starved for her.
