Cash gave him a look but didn’t press. “Don’t stay too late.”
When the three of them left, the house felt suddenly quieter, though the last few guests lingered. Hillary eventually saw them out and closed the door, leaning against it for just a second before she caught sight of him.
“You didn’t have to stay,” she said, her voice softer now that the performance was over.
“I wanted to.”
She let out a breath, almost a laugh, but not quite. “Of course you did.”
He crossed the room slowly, giving her space but making sure she knew he was there. “You’ve been carrying this whole thing by yourself. Let someone help for once.”
Her eyes flicked up to his, and for the first time all day, the mask slipped. Just a little. Enough for him to see the exhaustion, the grief, the loneliness she’d been hiding.
“Murphy . . . ” She shook her head, like she didn’t know what else to say.
He didn’t push. He just reached out and took her hand, squeezing it once, steady and sure.
For a beat, she let him.
And that one beat was enough to make his chest ache with something bigger than he knew how to hold.
"What needs to be done?" he asked. "Put me to work."
"There's not much. I just need to pay the caterers."
Murphy nodded and followed her into the kitchen.
"What's next?"
"That's it," she said with a small shrug.
He held out his hand to her, and she did him one better and walked into his embrace.
And then—just as he was about to let go—Hillary stepped closer.
She leaned into him, resting her head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.
Murphy held still, letting her decide how long it lasted. His heart pounded, but he kept his arm loose around her, steady and quiet. No questions. No pressure. Just him, holding her up while she finally let herself rest.
When she pulled back, her eyes were glassy but calmer, her mask softer.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.
And for the first time in a long time, Murphy believed she might actually let him in.
26
HILLARY
For a long moment, she just stayed there, leaning into Murphy, letting his warmth soak into her bones. When she finally straightened, he searched her face.
“How are you doing?” he asked softly. “What do you need?”
The question caught her off guard. People always wanted to know what she coulddofor them, what she couldfix.No one ever asked whatsheneeded.
She surprised herself by answering honestly. “I’m hungry. And there’s no food.”
