Her lips curved, almost a real smile. “Of course.”
He grinned against her, stealing one more kiss, the smallest flicker of hope sparking to life between them.
47
HILLARY
Hillary paced her living room, arms wrapped tight around herself. Every tick of the clock made her stomach clench tighter. What had she done?
She’d invited Murphy over like she was ready, like she had any idea what came next. She wasn’t. She wasn’t ready for this, for him, for the way he made her feel.
The quiet of the house pressed down on her. Normally, her home was her refuge. Tonight, it felt like a trap. She caught herself staring at the door, half-hoping he wouldn’t come, half-praying he would.
She’d already changed outfits three times before landing in black leggings and a sweater. Casual. Safe. Or at least, that was the lie she told herself as she smoothed her hands down the fabric for the hundredth time.
Her phone lit up with a message from Sydney checking in, but she ignored it. She couldn’t explain this, not when she didn’t even know how to explain it to herself.
Her chest ached with conflicting truths: She loved him, but she shouldn't love him. She couldn't imagine her life without him, but she also had no idea how to make it work.
The sound of a car pulling up made her freeze. Her pulse leapt into her throat. Footsteps on her walkway. Then, a knock.
Her hand trembled as she pulled open the door.
And there he was.
Murphy stood on her porch in a lightweight jacket, his hair slightly tousled from the night air. Devastatingly handsome didn’t even begin to cover it. He gave her a crooked smile, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to, and at his side sat Finn, tail wagging furiously as if he already belonged here.
How was he so perfect?
Her chest tightened at the sight of Murphy, of Finn, of everything she wanted and everything she was so afraid to claim.
“Hey,” he said softly, almost tentatively, like he could sense the storm inside her.
The golden retriever barked once, happy and expectant. Hillary crouched without thinking, rubbing behind his ears, grateful for the excuse not to meet Murphy’s eyes.
“Hey,” she murmured, her voice catching.
When she finally looked up, Murphy was watching her with that open, steady expression that had undone her from the very start.
She stepped back and let Murphy and Finn inside.
The air between them was thick, awkward, like the jittery tension of a first date. Except they’d already kissed, already made love, already whisperedI love you.That made this feel stranger, heavier. Too much and not enough, all at once.
Her chest tightened. The thoughts came too fast, spinning like a cyclone:What are we doing? What if this is a mistake? What if I ruin him?
And then there was warmth.
Murphy crossed the room in two strides and wrapped her in his arms. No hesitation, no questions, just solid strengthand steady warmth. She sagged against him, letting out a shaky breath.
Finn sat obediently at their feet, tail sweeping the floor like he understood the moment.
Hillary pressed her forehead to Murphy’s chest, his heartbeat steady against her cheek. The panic loosened its grip, the storm in her head quieted.
“I’ve got you,” Murphy murmured into her hair. “It’s okay.”
She was surprised at the ease with which she believed him.
She tipped her head back, still tucked against his chest, and gave him a small smile.
