She nodded. The door shut behind her, and the tears she’d been holding back broke free. This wasn’t her. She didn’t cry in front of people. Never. But Murphy didn’t ask questions. He just swept her into his arms, holding her close, his palm stroking her back until her sobs quieted.
Embarrassed, she excused herself to wash her face. In the mirror, she gave herself a sharp pep talk, willing her composure back.
"Get it under control," she said with a stern expression. This was not her. She never broke like this. She was the rock everyone could count on. She had taken care of herself ever since her family had made it clear that if she didn't do it their way, they wouldn’t help her. 'Fine by me then,' she had thought. Life had been hard, but it had been hers, and that was enough. That was until they started pulling the same thing with her little sister. God, she hated her family.
But those thoughts would not help her get herself back under control, so she took another deep breath. "You can do this. Just go out there and be normal."
She closed her eyes, inhaled again, and took one last look in the mirror. Her brown waves fell over her shoulders. She looked fine. There was nothing to give away the fact that she had just lost it besides her red, puffy eyes, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that right now.
But when she stepped out and saw him sitting on the bed, elbows on his knees and those patient, steady eyes fixed on her, her throat tightened again.
“What happened?” he asked gently.
The words poured out—about her family, about Sydney, about the weight of it all. Murphy didn’t interrupt. His hand wrapped around hers, thumb brushing across her knuckles, and somehow she felt like she wasn’t carrying it alone.
"Wow," he said. "That's a lot. I'm so sorry you're dealing with all that."
"It's fine," she shrugged. "I'm used to it."
"It's not fine, and you shouldn't be used to it."
She looked down at their hands clasped and allowed herself to think about what it would feel like to have the support of someone as pure as Murphy. Of course, the dynamics of her family would be foreign to someone like him.
"I know it's not fine, but I can't change it. I accepted that years ago. I just hate that my sister is figuring it all out now."
"Sydney seems like she’s got a good head on her shoulders?”
"She does, but my family is pissed that she chose to work instead of doing rich people shit."
A rough chuckle bubbled up in him. "Excuse me?"
"They wanted her to marry her college boyfriend, whom they approved of, and live the wealthy Connecticut life they deem best."
"Wow . . . " he said, nodding, taking in the truth of it.
Next thing Hillary knew, she was up and pacing. Being this vulnerable made her feel like the other shoe was about to drop, or be thrown at her . . . either way, it wasn't a great feeling.
Murphy didn't follow. He just let her pace. How was it he always knew what she needed?
While all the problems that made their relationship untenable were still there, maybe for tonight, they could forget them all.
She made her way back over to him and stopped between his knees. He sat straighter and looked her in the eyes. The momentbetween them turned heated, which felt better than what she'd just been drowning in.
As the moment stretched out before them, she took a shaky breath and ran her hands through his soft, sandy-brown hair before kissing him. His breath caught, and he pulled back slightly as his gaze flew to her, but his hands found her hips and anchored her to the moment.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
Hillary nodded, and that was all he needed. He stood and pulled her close as his lips closed in on hers.
It was everything. It was exactly what she needed, and she wasn't going to question it right now.
15
MURPHY
When there was a quiet knock at his door over an hour after they'd all returned to the hotel, Murphy never expected to see Hillary on the other side. He also never expected her to come into his room. But hetrulynever expected her to cry.
He didn’t know how many people were lucky enough to see the vulnerable side of Hillary Lawson, but he was grateful to be one of them.
