He dipped his head, and she met him halfway. The kiss started soft, exploratory, but quickly deepened to her hands curling into his jacket and his arm tightening around her waist. For once, she let herself sink into it fully, no guilt, no walls.
When they finally pulled back, she pressed her forehead to his, both of them smiling, breathless.
And then?—
“Bailey! Come here, girl!” a voice rang out across the park.
They both jerked upright, startled. Hillary’s eyes darted to the far path where another dog was bounding toward Finn and where a figure was standing, watching.
Her stomach dropped. They hadn’t even noticed someone else had come in.
The voice callingBaileybelonged to a middle-aged man in a Red Sox cap, holding a leash loosely at his side as his golden-brown mutt bounded toward Finn.
Murphy stood and waved like they’d been waiting for him. “Hey, man! Beautiful dog!”
The guy grinned. “Thanks. She’s a handful, but worth it.”
Finn and Bailey were already nose-to-nose, tails wagging in a blur before tearing off together across the grass. Hillary stayed seated on the bench, tugging her scarf tighter, but Murphy—of course—went right over. She watched him crouch down, scratch Bailey’s ears like they’d known each other for years, and start chatting with the older gentleman like they were old friends.
Within minutes, he had the man laughing about rookie hazing rituals and swapping dog food recommendations. Hillary finally wandered over, shaking her head when Murphy gestured her into the conversation.
By the time Finn flopped down in the dirt, panting happily, she found herself smiling too. Murphy had that effect. He drew people in like gravity, disarming and genuine.
Eventually, the man leashed Bailey again, giving them both a friendly wave. “Good luck with that pup. You’ll need it,” he joked.
“Thanks,” Murphy called back cheerfully, clipping Finn’s harness. “See you around.”
They started walking back toward his condo, shoulders brushing, Finn trotting ahead on his leash. It all felt so normal—domestic even—that it stole Hillary’s breath. A stolen moment in the sunshine, in the middle of everything else.
“Guess we better get ready for lunch,” Murphy said, glancing at her with that small, private smile that always undid her.
The little bistro was already buzzing when they arrived, the clatter of dishes and soft murmur of conversation swirling around them. Hillary slid into a chair by the window, nerves making her foot tap beneath the table. She smoothed her napkin into her lap, then picked up the silverware only to set it back down.
Murphy leaned back in his chair across from her, calm as ever, watching her with that steady gaze that always seemed to untangle her spirals. He reached across the table and stilled her restless hand, thumb brushing across her knuckles.
“You’re going to burn a hole straight through the floor with that leg,” he teased softly.
She shot him a look. “Easy for you to say. You’re not about to introduce your sister to . . . ” She waved a hand between them, heat blooming in her chest.
“You know I’ve met Sydney before, right?” he said under his breath, amusement flickering in his hazel eyes. “I survived that first interrogation. I can survive this one, too.”
Hillary huffed out a laugh she didn’t feel. “Not like this,” she muttered.
“Exactly like this,” he countered with quiet confidence. “It’s still me, it’s still her. The only difference is now I get to sit here as your boyfriend instead of the rookie trying not to screw up.”
And then Sydney spotted them. Her eyes went wide, her mouth fell open, and she started toward their table with all the force of a storm front rolling in. Hillary kept her eyes on Sydney, bracing herself for the inevitable lecture. Sydney didn’t say anything at first—she just slid into the chair across from Hillary with that knowing smile she’d been flashing since childhood, the one that saidI see you even when you don’t want me to.
“Murphy, it’s nice to see you again,” Sydney said with a smile, reaching out to take his hand.
“Likewise,” he said with an easy confidence. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since the mess with Natalie and Sven. How have you been? How are rotations going?”
And just like that, they were talking and chatting about the hospital. Hillary bit back the smile that wanted to spread across her face at the sight of her two favorite people getting along.
Murphy excused himself for the restroom, leaving the sisters alone. Hillary fiddled with her water glass, waiting for the comments she’d rehearsed defensive answers for. Their age gap. The career risk. The bad idea.
But Sydney just leaned forward on her elbows, chin in her hands. “You’re glowing.”
Hillary blinked. “I’m what?”
