Chapter 3
Ian
I couldn’t stop grinning. She’d just made me the happiest I could ever remember being — and all she’d done was tell me she liked me. There was just something about the way her words wrapped around my heart . . . a heart I wasn’t so sure even worked like it should most of the time. It wasn’t just the words, though—it was the way she looked at me when she said them.
“Okay. This has been probably the world’s longest goodbye,” she joked. “You need to get back to work.”
I knew by her tone that she wasn’t telling me to leave. In fact, I thought she was implying just the opposite. “Well, can I see you later?” I asked.
She smiled and nodded. “Of course.”
When she bit her lip, I almost groaned out loud, wishing that those lips were on mine again.
“Well, until then,” I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
A smile spread over her lips and she nodded. “Until then.”
And with that, it was time to go. I’d always been good at that — when to leave, when to stay. Although Kate sometimes made me question everything I thought I knew and thought I was good at.
Just as I turned, a heavy-bodied nurse approached from the hall, her stare fixed directly behind me. Directly on Kate. As soon as I saw her, I worried that something with Claire might have taken a turn and something was wrong. But as she got closer, I realized she was smiling. She didn’t look worried at all.
I quietly let out the breath I’d drawn in and kept walking.
“Ms. Murphy,” the rounded woman called out as she passed me.
“Yes?” Kate responded.
I immediately stopped dead in my tracks and cringed. Murphy?
The nurse sounded content — like everything was fine. But it didn’t seem very fine to me. Something twisted in my gut, that little knot that says things are about to go to hell in a hand basket. But I began walking toward the exit again, pushing it to the back of my mind. Reminding myself that I always had that gut reaction at the mention of the name Murphy. Why wouldn’t I? Until now, the name had been nothing but synonymous with causing me stress. I rolled my shoulders, trying my best to loosen the tension in my neck and back. There were probably thousands of people with the last name Murphy in this city. It was New York City, after all.
I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief as I exited through the hospital’s large glass front door and the crisp, clean — yet incredibly cold — winter air hit me. I pulled in a cleansing breath and settled myself on the idea that it wasn’t Kate’s last name that bothered me, but the hospital itself. I had negative emotions about hospitals—it had to do with what being at a hospital meant, rather than the building itself. Death. Illness. Hospitals were places you went when things were wrong. And those wrong things didn’t always have a positive turnout.
I could only hope Claire would have a positive outcome. I wished I could meet Claire, but it wasn’t exactly the appropriate time to meet her. Not only had Kate and I barely even had one date, but the poor girl was in the hospital. The last thing she needed was to feel like she was on display to strangers, like she was straight on the cover of Depression Magazine.
I just wanted to meet her because she seemed to be the only person that Kate really got along with in her life. That was why I’d felt like I had to go to the hospital in the first place. I had no idea what it was like to have my favorite person in the entire world try to kill herself. I knew what it was like to lose them, but at least it hadn’t been my old man’s choice to bail out on me. It was just life. And after what Kate had said about her mother leaving, I couldn’t imagine how hard it was for her knowing her sister might too.
I watched the swarms of people pass by me on the sidewalk in the evening rush and I couldn’t help but wonder about their stories. Who had left them, who had stayed, who they were rushing home to? I hated when the streets were so crowded. I was shoulder to shoulder. Packed in like a sardine with people shopping, laughing, talking, getting off work. I didn’t like being around that many people at once. But what did I expect? I It was evening rush. The sun was making its way lower in the sky, so of course the street was bustling with people.
What I wouldn’t have given to just go home and take a nap. With my job, that was rarely possible. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten home at five o’clock, not unless it was five o’clock in the morning after pulling an all-nighter. Those had occurred more often than I cared to recall.
But I was certain if anyone was wondering about me, they would assume I was on my way home after a day at work, not on my way back to the office to likely work until the city that never sleeps was dozing off. People continued to shuffle quickly past me on the sidewalk. Everyone seemed normal and fine, but I didn’t feel fine. I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that I still didn’t know how to react to caring about someone I hardly knew, or if I was still worried for Kate and Claire. The one thing I was sure of . . . I was confused as hell. Everything in my world was in some form of turmoil. The lawsuit had my company in a state of commotion and now, Kate had everything inside me doing and feeling things I didn’t even know how to describe. It was unsettling and confusing.
The only comfort, the only constant, was New York City. Even the smells were the same. Food was a big part of it. There were dog vendors just down the street — on every damn street, it seemed—food trucks, restaurants, weird meat on stick stands. Then there was the smell of car exhaust, and even that smell was comforting.
It all intertwined to create a feeling of being home for me.
I breathed in heavily, the cold air stinging my lungs as I continued to pound toward the parking garage where I’d left my Bentley. Street parking in this district was even more of a nightmare than everywhere else in the city. For good reason, too. People were trying to get to the medical centers. Of course they’d want to park as close as possible.
Once I got to my car, I flung the door open. The puff of air that wafted out smelled just like my old man. That scent reminder was the kick in the ass that I needed to get my head back in the game. Time to get back to work.
* * * * *
Finally, back in my office, I sank into my favorite swivel chair and turned around to glance out the large windowed walls behind me. It was snowing again. Dad always liked when it snowed. Said it was the perfect weather to stay in and get things accomplished. It was as if he were reminding me I had things to get done.
I wasn’t good at feeling emotions. I wasn’t good at being myself, especially not when I didn’t know a person well. Paperwork was a relief compared to all of that.
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Cross,” Janice called faintly from the door of my office.
I looked up and met her gaze. “Hmm?”
“Mr. Pfeiffer left these for you to sign,” she said, as she pushed the door open further and walked in, holding a small tan folder.
“Of course,” I said, taking it from her. “Oh, and Janice, I’m sorry if I was short earlier with you. It wasn’t you.”
“No, I didn’t think you were mad at me, Mr. Cross,” she said a little more formally than I would have liked. “This job is a high-pressure one.”
“That it is,” I said with a sigh. “But I think I’m starting to handle it better.” I tried to smile reassuringly as I swiveled my pen over the bottom of all the pages. I wasn’t signing it. I was just making a few little doodles. I wasn’t going to sign anything that Pfeiffer wanted me to sign. At least, not without fully reading over them first.
Call it juvenile. I didn’t care.
I didn’t trust the man. And he wouldn’t have pissed on me if I was on fire, and I felt the same way about him. If it was something I really had to sign, I would. In time.
“You’re doing a great job,” she said with a smile. “It’ll all come together.”
She sounded pretty convinced, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride that she actually had faith in me. It was nice to have people believe in you. And although I knew most people did believe in me — with the grand exception of my Vice President — it was still nice to see and hear once in a while.
“Thanks, Janice,” I said as I closed the folder and handed it back to her with a smirk. “Make sure Mr. Pfeiffer gets these back. And would you mind making me a copy of those, I’d like to read over them.” She turned to leave my office.
She took the papers and gave me a knowing look. She was fully aware of the bad blood between me and him. She cracked open the folder, flipped a couple of pages and grinned. “You’re just trying to piss him off, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Not at all,” I replied in my most innocent tone of voice. She just shook her head at me and started for the door.
As I watched her silhouette disappear into the shadow of the hallway and shut the door behind her, that same uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach came back — full force. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t for the life of me place what the hell it meant.
I shook my head and decided to ignore it. A notification symbol was lighting up in the top corner of my screen saying I had an email marked as important. I took a deep breath. I only received that notification for a few reasons. That sign usually meant there was another office announcement and those were hardly ever good things in my opinion. Even when they were generally positive in nature, they still seemed like the bane of my existence. “Let’s have a Christmas Party,” or some other bullshit. Everyone was always trying to do some sort of potluck at the office.
I sighed, hoping I wouldn’t have to rain on everyone’s parade. But we’d just had two Christmas parties and a Thanksgiving potluck not long before that. Too many parties were just as bad as no parties at all. It was bad for productivity. Dad always said: Give them too little; and they don’t have incentive to work hard. No reward means unhappy workers. Give them too much and they think the workplace is a fun-only zone.
It was one area I tended to agree with him on.
I clicked on the notification, expecting it to be an interoffice memo. Instead, I was surprised to see a message from Ben. Not a memo at all.
Ben. Murphy. It was the last name I even wanted to think about at the moment. But there it was.
Murphy.
Ben Murphy.
Michael Murphy.
Kate Murphy.
That’s when it hit me like some sort of high-voltage, crazy electric shock had struck within my brain and fried it. I couldn’t quite understand what was going on. Couldn’t fathom it. It gave me a headache.
Why hadn’t I put two and two together earlier?
Her last name was Murphy. I’d seen Michael Murphy…and I’d see him smack dab in that same exact hospital, on the same hall Kate and Claire had been on.
The light bulb had been there flickering the entire time. On and off. But I didn’t see it. Maybe subconsciously I didn’t want to see it as my mind continued to rationalize it. Suddenly, it was like it had illuminated so brightly that it exploded in my brain. Now, the idea crashed into me so hard it was like the shards of the bulb were real, and they were cutting me deep.
I came to the conclusion my mind had been wanting me to reach but my heart had been pretending wasn’t likely. The room started to spin.
Kate’s last name. That was exactly what had been bothering me, twisting my gut into knots.
Could they really be related? Michael Murphy had been at the hospital. But, couldn’t it have been a coincidence?
I hoped — but something told me I wasn’t that lucky.