What's a Girl to Do? (Season 7)

by originella

15 months have passed since Murphy told Nicholas to run, and now things have changed for the South Side girl. Now, she is engaged to Tommy Matthews, and running Patsy's Pies; on the outside of things, they look positive. However, her children are living with Ian, and her relationship with Tommy is not what it seems. Missing Nicholas, Murphy knows she must help him at all costs.

1. I Was Wrong

Chapter One: I Was Wrong

I can feel the impact that the wooden floor has had on the side of my face almost immediately after I've come to. Slowly, so as not to potentially wake up the sleeping monster—for where he is, I had no idea—I put my palms down onto the floor and push myself upwards. Knowing from the other times this has happened, I have to regulate myself to a sitting position, for if I try to get immediately to my feet, I know I could stumble and potentially fall into something, thus alerting my captor, and, theoretically, get knocked around again.

Sitting in the center of the semi-dark living room puts things into perspective—the toys that my children had in their respective corners were no longer there, and their bedrooms upstairs had been cleared out. Now, for over a year since Nicholas had run off to evade the law, I'd been living under one roof with Tommy. He'd gotten the kids out of there pretty quickly, telling me to send them off to Ian's, likely because he wanted me all to himself. Slowly but surely, I'd stopped most of my communication with my family, for Tommy had eyes everywhere, and there would be hell to pay if I got out of line.

Tonight was no exception; tonight I had gone to the firm's office—considered a safe spot—and had seen Nicholas for the first time in a year and a half, since he had gone. It was our second-year wedding anniversary, and I had chosen the day like a bad omen. Immediately when I had seen Nicholas, holed up in a secluded office out of sight of security cameras at the back of the building, all I could think about was what I'd lost. I'd pocketed the engagement ring from Tommy, not wanting Nicholas to see it, and pushed open the door. It was faster than lightning that we'd gone over to each other, and the fact that we'd made love was the understatement of the century.

However, when I returned home that night, Tommy was waiting for me; his feet were up, and he was watching some game on the flat screen. As I took off my winter clothes carefully, I hid the documents from him, knowing I would have to make up an excuse that they had come in the mail the following day. As I stepped into the living room, I caught sight of the Old Style Beer bottle in Tommy's hand, and knew to tread carefully, due to his attitude when he was drunk. I was no so lucky, however, and it wasn't long before I was clocked in the head by the beer bottle and rendered unconscious on the living room floor.

I reached upwards then, assessing the damage Tommy had committed towards me that night, and was relieved when there was no glass in my head. Just a dried wound, but Tommy likely wouldn't approve of me going to the hospital to get it fixed up; he'd likely want to do the stapling himself, without pain medication for me. Shaking my head, I braced myself against the arm of the couch, and carefully moved to get to my feet. My stomach did flip flops as I did so, and I moved to cross to the kitchen, getting out a bottle of water from the fridge, and a pair of pain killers from the cabinet.

Once I'd washed down the medication, I leaned up against the counter, gripping the plastic bottle in my hand. What had I done in the last eighteen months to get from loving marriage, to yet another abusive relationship? I knew full well that my marriage to Nicholas wasn't perfect, but I also knew that he would never beat me to the point of being unconscious. The only time Nicholas had ever hit me was that final day, on my say-so, when I told him to run, and he immediately regretted it afterwards. I sighed, checking the time on the oven clock, and saw that it was after eleven, and that I'd better get upstairs and try to sleep, knowing that I had to open the diner bright and early the next morning.

I drank the rest of the water, and shakily threw it into the recycling bin as I carefully moved through the living room, switching off the lamp on the table beside the couch as I turned towards the stairs, gripping tightly to the bannister. Slowly, I made my way to the first landing, knowing full well that Tommy would hear me, but secretly hoping that my punishment for that evening would prove to be over. Finally, I made it up the final stretch before walking down the hallway and into the master bedroom, where Tommy shifted in the bed, letting me know he was waiting for me.

Carefully, I stripped down in the darkness on my side of the bed, and then moved to the chest of drawers, but Tommy cleared his throat from behind me. Immediately, the hairs on every inch of my body stood on end, and as I gripped the drawers before me, I hesitated, not knowing if I should speak. I waited in the darkness for Tommy to speak, knowing that I could get clocked again if I spoke first.

"You remember the rules, Murphy."

I did my best not to sigh in exasperation, and I merely shut my eyes briefly in the darkness, hating it when hot tears escaped them. Quickly, I dashed them from my eyes and released my grip upon the chest of drawers, and slowly turned around to face him in the darkness. Slowly, I took off my bra and panties, and hesitated, waiting for further instructions, my hands wrapped around my body, which was now bruised and frail from the last eighteen months of terrible treatment I'd endured.

"Go wash yourself," Tommy said, snapping his fingers in the direction of the master bathroom in a voice filled with loathing. "I know you were with him tonight, and I don't want you to smell like him when you get into our bed."

I nodded slowly then, crossing to the bathroom and shutting the door behind me before switching on the light. I was permitted to have the door shut, but not locked, as that was yet another one of Tommy's rules he'd put in place. I crossed the bathroom then and got a good look at myself; my eyes were red-rimmed and had purple bruises beneath each, and my skin seemed to slacken and hang off every part of me. Lowering my eyes, I got a good look at my family tree tattoo, which Tommy had slashed that night with his pocket knife before he had taken the bottle to my head. I remembered his words, about how I didn't need any of them anymore, before he clocked me with the bottle, and stomped on the space between my breasts, where Nicholas's name had been tattooed shortly after he'd run away.

I immediately moved to cover my body, ashamed of its reflection, as I moved towards the shower, knowing full well that Tommy would burst in there at any moment if I didn't make a move to follow orders. I turned on the faucet carefully, adjusting it to a halfway decent temperature before I swung my leg over the bath and got beneath the stream of water, before I pulled the curtain all around me. I turned ever so slightly underneath the water to get a better angle, and caught a glimpse of the house where my children now lived in between a space of the curtains, and out through the window. A lump rose in my throat as I considered them all then, safe, living with Ian and Liam, and knew that none of them could ever know what I was subjected to behind closed doors.

Methodically, I made a grab for my shampoo and scrubbed it into my hair and on my scalp, doing my best not to cry. I cried so much these days—and took ample opportunity to do so when I was alone—that my eyes burned nearly every hour of every day. It was becoming so difficult to even produce tears that, if I ever did, I could be blind for minutes at a time. Shaking my head as I tilted my head back to rid my hair of my shampoo, the lump rose in my throat again, as I wondered, for the umpteenth time, how did I get here?

. . .

In the weeks after my arrest and then spending the night in jail, I found that actually going to the firm for hours on end seemed to be alarming to me. I was shocked when Allie and Hugo told me to take as much time off as I needed and, since I usually took some time off in the summer anyway to spend with the kids, I found that now was the perfect opportunity to get myself back into the swing of things personally. I spent a lot of time with Ian as well, fresh from his breakup with Trevor, and, on other days when I needed to get out of the house and Allie volunteered to watch the kids, I would help out Fiona in the diner.

"You don't know what a relief it is to have you come in here and help me out," Fiona said one afternoon during the lunch rush. "V can come in during breakfast, but has to leave when it gets to be noon, to help Kev over at The Alibi."

I gave her a nod, from where I stood behind the counter, wiping down the lunch menus for any excess stains that might've been overlooked by yesterday's staff. "Happy to help, Fiona. I may not approve of your personal life right now, but, as your sister, I reserve the right to form my own opinions about it."

Fiona sighed then, just loud enough to get me to look up at her, and I saw then that her hands were placed on her hips. "If you've got something to say to me, Murph, then say it. Like you said, you're my sister, and I need you to be honest with me. Please."

I rolled my eyes, stacking the menus together before placing them in the wooden holding bin and throwing the rag beneath the counter onto a shelf where its brothers and sisters were kept. "I know you know that everyone gave me the blow-by-blow on Jimmy."

Fiona looked annoyed. "So?"

I scoffed. "So?! Jesus, Fi. The man's a liar and a con-artist."

Fiona pursed her lips. "Please, Murph. I know for a fact that Nicholas isn't perfect twenty-four/seven either. Cut Jimmy a break."

I raised my eyebrows. "We're not talking about my husband, Fiona. We're talking about your boyfriend who fucking walked out on you and the kids after his father-in-law pretty much sold him into slave labor or some shit in a third-world country!"

Fiona dragged her hands through her hair. "I don't know what you want me to do here, Murph, really. I've been single since me and Ford called it quits and Jimmy's never made me feel like anyone before..."

I made a sound of exasperation. "I may understand that analogy, Fi, but that doesn't mean I approve of it."

"Why the hell not, Murph?"

I stepped towards her then and took her by the shoulders; I may have been a good four and a quarter inches shorter than she was, but I was South Side through and through—a fucking pistol—and this was my big sister and nothing, or nobody, was gonna hurt her again. "Because he fucking hurt you, Fi, and nobody has my permission to hurt my family!" I whispered to her then, squeezing her shoulders tightly so as to drive the point home. "Why the hell would you stay with someone who fucking did that to you? Sure he didn't smack you around, but he fucked your mind up real good..."

Fiona looked shocked at this declaration; I'd hardly said much to her, after the initial talk we'd had about spending the night in jail, and then I'd broken off from her, as all of our siblings did, effectively giving her the silent treatment so as to emphasize our disapproval. "I love that you're looking out for me here, Murph, but I'm the oldest," she said quietly, gently pulling my fingers off from her shoulders. "If I need help, I'll ask, but it's different this time. Really."

I wanted to say more to her then, but the door to Patsy's opened from behind me and I routinely turned around to see who had come inside. "Oh, my god," I said, my mouth falling open when I saw who was in the doorway.

"Oh, fuck no," Fiona said, moving out from behind the counter, both guns blazing as she stamped over to the new customer. "Why the fuck are you here?!"

The guy threw up his hands immediately. "I come in peace, I swear!"

"Tell that to my little sister's nose, which you broke!" Fiona fired back. "Thank god she and her husband make good money, so a surgeon was able to set it back and fix it properly. But I can't believe you're showing your face here, in my diner..."

The guy looked around. "This your diner?"

Fiona crossed her arms. "Yeah, it's my diner. And we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, and that includes someone who fucks up my sister."

"Hey, lady, I was just doing my job—"

"It's not 'lady', it's Fiona!" my sister growled at him, and I knew her eyes must've been blazing as I cautiously walked up behind her. "We don't cater to your kind here—"

"Fi," I said, my mellow voice cutting across her protective tone as I gently placed a hand upon her shoulder. "Can I have a minute with this guy, please?"

Fiona whipped around then, her dark eyes filled with shock. "You fucking kidding me right now, Murph?" she demanded.

I sighed. "Yeah," I replied. "It'll be good for me to move past this."

Fiona sighed back. "Fine, do whatever. But I'm not feeding the son of a bitch," she said, and nodded towards the door, indicating that she wanted us to talk outside.

I rolled my eyes, knowing I had to play by her rules. "Come on," I said, no emotion in my voice as I moved for the door, and my eyebrows shot upwards as he opened it for me. "Thanks," I muttered to him, stepping outside into the muggy, summer air. "So, what brings you to my sister's diner, office?" I ask, crossing my arms and regarding him with an expression that I hoped was filled with disdain.

"It's detective now," he said, trying to ease the tension between us, but I merely raised my eyebrows at him again, indicating that really I had no reason to care what his title on or off the job was. "Sorry. Look, Murphy, I just wanted to apologize for my behavior when I arrested you in June. It was way out of line, but I was working a triple shift—covering for higher-ups in the officer unit—so I was coming off an eighteen-hour shift. I was exhausted, and the sooner I could arrest you, I could go home. Plus, I'd just started a new medication for my anxiety, and so that, combined with my exhaustion, really didn't help..."

I sighed. "Well, I guess I can understand the medication area of things," I reply. "I have depression, anxiety, and paranoia, so I can understand the whole adjusting of meds and starting new ones. I'm sorry you had to go through that, although I could've been more compliant when you arrested me. Forgive me; I was caught off-guard."

He smiled, putting out his hand. "Tommy Matthews," he said.

I found myself smiling back at him. "Murphy Gallagher-Blomqvist," I replied, and took his hand to shake it.

. . .

I'd just finished eating breakfast and was washing the dishes, after having put the plates, cups, and silverware into the dishwasher. I heard the feet on the stairs and smiled, looking up at the beautiful September sunshine and turned around to grin at Tommy as he came downstairs, in his detective's suit, and smiled proudly at me. I turned back around and hastily finished washing the last dish before setting it into the drying rack, and washed my hands before I walked over to him in my silk bathrobe.

"Good morning, detective," I said, straightening his tie as Tommy automatically reached down and smacked my ass, and I squealed slightly as he dipped me, kissing me before pulling me back upwards again.

"Good morning, restauranteur," he said.

I smiled up at him, feeling as if I was positively glowing. "Are you coming by for lunch this afternoon?" I asked. "If not, I have a lunch packed for you in the fridge."

"I'll be by around one, if that's okay."

I nodded. "Of course it's okay," I replied. "I got your briefcase all organized and packed for you, and it's by the front door," I went on, and pulled his tie slightly tighter before brushing down his suit with the palms of my hands. "Now, do you have everything you need?"

"Just need my fiancée to walk me to the front door."

I grinned, letting out a laugh then as he gently pulled me along behind him. "Well, I can do that much, Detective Matthews," I said.

Tommy playfully smacked my ass again before he let me go, bending down to pick up his briefcase before he opened the front door. "Of course, I'd like to call you my wife... We've put the feelers out on Nicholas's whereabouts, but we can't find him anywhere..."

I rolled my eyes, pretending not to give a shit about my husband. "Well, you know how people like him are, honey. Deceptive to the core and, given his past thug-life, who's to know how he managed to disappear?"

Tommy nodded, kissing me again. "You're probably right," he said, and turned to look at the house across the street. "You going to see the kids today?"

I shrugged. "Who knows? Ian keeps them on such a tight leash. He still hasn't forgiven me for giving him custody... I mean, he loves them, don't get me wrong, but I sense a resentment from him with the whole history repeating itself thing..."

"Well, see them, don't see them. Just let me know if it's happening or not, because I want my dinner on the table when I get home," he said, and squeezed my ass so hard that it hurt, and my eyes immediately flew to his. "That's not gonna be a problem, is it?"

Immediately, I shook my head at him. "No, Tommy, of course not. I'm making lasagna for you tonight—I know how much you love it."

Tommy grinned. "That's my girl," he said, yanking me to him and kissing me one last time. "I'll see you at the diner at one."

I nodded. "Yeah, Tommy. See you then."

. . .

After my tip-off via the office phone at Patsy's that Tommy was going to be at the diner for lunch, and also due to the notion that Tommy tended to hang around, Ian decided not to bring the kids in until the following day. I was doing some more ordering that Tuesday, and when Sierra alerted me to Ian and my children being there, I immediately told her to have them sent back to my office, unknowing if Tommy was there, or had someone there. I got to my feet then, fixing a smile onto my face as the door opened again, and I gave Ian a look of uncertainty as Iana stepped inside cautiously, and the boys each clung to Ian's legs.

"Hi, guys," I said, doing my best to smile at them. "Aren't you going to come over here and give Mama a hug?"

Iana turned to look at her brothers, who made no move towards me, which was something that truly frightened me. However, Iana walked over to me and merely held up her arms, and I held her for a moment, but she remained stiff in my grasp before walking backwards and out of the embrace I'd given her. "You were wrong, Mama," she said.

I blinked, looking up at Ian, who gave me a stoic expression. Clearly sensing that Ian wouldn't be much help here, I lowered my eyes back down to Iana. "What?" I whispered. "What are you talking about, sweetheart?" I asked her.

Iana looked unsure for a moment before she spoke again. "You chose Tommy over us," she finally said, and my heart hammered in my throat.

"Iana..."

"No," she said, her voice that of a young adult, and not of a mere five-year-old. "You didn't come for my fifth birthday, or for Christmas. Tommy keeps you away from us. He moved into the house, and you moved us out. Why?"

I felt myself coming undone at the bitter truth that I was now forced to face. "Iana, please. There are certain things that you don't understand because..."

"Don't call me a kid!" she said, narrowing her eyes at me. "I'm not just a kid. I'm a person, and a pretty fantastic one. My teachers are talking about me moving ahead a couple of grades, based on me being so fantastic. And all I can say, Mama, is that you're going to miss it, because you've made your decision," she went on, before walking out of my office.

Ian moved to leave then, but I stopped him. "Ian, wait, please," I said, as I saw Sierra walking by to retrieve something from the storage area. "Sierra?"

"Yeah, Murphy?" she asked, stepping forward.

"Is Iana...?"

"Just over there," she said, indicating a space close to the kitchen.

"Could you watch her and the boys for a few minutes, please? I need to have a word with Ian, and it's pretty important."

Sierra nodded. "Sure, no problem," she said, smiling at the boys. "Clayton, Fionn, I know we have some of your favorite pies..."

My sons didn't need telling twice. At two, they were wary of strangers, but they enjoyed Sierra's company, and, with the promise of pie, the deal was sealed. Promptly, they let go of Ian's legs and moved to follow her, and I could hear Sierra's words to Iana about a slice of pie as well, and my daughter eagerly thanked her.

"Okay," Ian said, moving to shut the door before he turned around and stared at me. "You want to talk? Talk. Let's talk, Murphy," he said, crossing his arms, and looking at me with those eyes of his, which were filled with betrayal and hurt—not just for himself, but for my children as well, who he had been raising. "Let's talk, about how you constantly claimed how unlike Monica you truly were, for all this time. You constantly said you were nothing like our mother—who you didn't even know—and now, here you are, choosing a fucking guy instead of your kids. I love your kids, Murphy, don't get me wrong, but they're your kids—your kids—and you dumped them on me like trash to take up with your new wannabe trophy husband..."

I shook my head at him. "Ian, please..."

"No, Murphy, it's not that easy, and you know it," he said, plowing on. "You hardly ever come over to the house to see me, Debs says you avoid her whenever she comes in here solo or even with Franny, and Lip says you've been skipping out on meetings. You've missed school things with Liam, plus Iana and the boys, and you haven't been returning Fiona's calls. Even Carl's contacted me from wherever he's stationed overseas. Long story short, Murphy, our whole entire family is worried sick about you, and you don't even seem to give a shit."

I bit my lip, wanting to tell him everything, but I couldn't. "Ian, don't do this. I am literally begging you not to do this..."

"Not to do what?!" Ian demanded, obviously exasperated with me. "Not to do what, Murphy? I literally don't understand you anymore. I remember, after that son of a bitch Nicholas ran off and then you took off with Iana to god knows where..."

"I..." I sighed, knowing that Iana must've kept her mouth shut about the trip, but, at least, I hoped if I told Ian, at long last, where I'd gone, then perhaps the road to forgiveness could at least be started... "We went to Mexico, okay?"

Ian looked as if someone had knifed him to the heart. "Mexico?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Mexico."

"For fuck's sake, Murphy!" Ian shouted then, crossing over to me and grabbing me by the shoulders, and I immediately cried out, but he kept right on talking. "You went to fucking Mexico fifteen months ago and you didn't even bother to tell me?!"

I sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, Ian. But I didn't know who I could tell. I swore Iana to secrecy, just for protection purposes, really, but..."

"Did you see him?" Ian asked, cutting across me. "Mickey. Did you see him?"

I grimaced then from the pain of his gripping me. "Yeah, of course we saw him. It was time for him to meet Iana."

Ian gave a stiff nod. "How'd he take it?"

"After the understandable initial shock at the entirety of the situation, Mickey took it remarkably well, to tell you the truth," I replied.

"He say anything about me?"

"You know he always does."

"You tell him anything?"

"You know I always do."

Ian stiffened then, obviously unsure of how to continue the conversation, but wanting more than anything to know the end of the story. "What'd you tell him?"

"That you love him," I reply, and his eyes snap to mine. "He still loves you, too, Ian. And he told me that once he gets his shit together down there, that he's going to come back. He's going to risk going to fucking jail, Ian, just because he doesn't want to be without you anymore. That's straight up love, right there..."

Ian looked shocked. "He's coming back? For me?"

I nodded. "He'll always come back for you," I tell him. "He's prepared to fight it—the conviction, the legal system, everything—just to get you back."

"Jesus," Ian whispered, dragging a hand through his hair. "If he can do all that for me, then why the fuck can't you do something like that for your kids?"

I shake my head at him. "Not this again, please."

"Who are you trying to fool, Murphy?" Ian demanded.

I looked away from him. "Ian, please..."

"No, really, I want to know," Ian went on, dragging me to face him again, and I winced at the brutality of the physical contact. "Are you pretending that you don't give a damn about your own kids for some reason, Murphy? In which case, why?"

I shook my head at him, yanking myself away from him. "Don't," I tell him, my voice firm. "I want you to drop all this bullshit. Keep my fucking kids, Ian—keep them. They'd be happier with you anyway."

Ian stared at me for a moment, searching my face, almost as if he was trying to figure out something that I couldn't verbalize. "Murphy..." He said quietly, and I wanted more than anything to talk to him, to tell him, but... "...where the fuck are you?"

"Right here," I said, my voice hardening deliberately. "But I'm very busy and important, and you need to get the fuck out of my office."

My words—which I'd so often used as a running joke between the two of us—which were now said in such a cold tone that Ian looked shell-shocked, caused my twin to stumble backwards in a moment of devastation. "Well, I know that you'll come and talk to me when and if you want to, Murphy," he said, stepping out of my office and leaving the door open behind him.

I stood there for a moment before I followed him, peeking out into the restaurant, and watched as Ian collected my children. The boys clung to his legs again, and Iana reached up to take his hand as the four of them walked out together. Sighing, I dashed the tears out of my eyes as I walked back past the kitchen, and walked into the ladies' room, shutting the door behind me. I stood in front of the mirror for a moment, before I took off the sweatshirt I was wearing, the tank top beneath it revealing the black, blue, and purple marks dotting every surface of my arms. My legs were the exact same way, as were my breasts and stomach, and my ass, and the fact that Ian had grabbed my shoulders just now hadn't helped matters.

I rolled my eyes, tightening my ponytail before I pulled my sweatshirt on again and left the ladies' room. I called Sierra out from the front again, nearly trembling at the prospect of what I was about to ask her. So much so that I hesitated for nearly a full minute, leaving my employee to stand awkwardly before me.

"Listen, I need to go for a run," I said, my voice shaking. "You mind holding down the fort for an hour? I'll have my phone on me if anything comes up..."

Sierra nodded. "Yeah, sure, Murphy. No problem."

I managed to smile at her. "Thanks," I replied.

I walked out the back door of the restaurant, remembering my numerous smoke breaks out there, as well as finding Lip back there once, when I had thought that Josh had taken Iana. I ignored the lump that rose in my throat then, kicking up my feet on the hard surface of the concrete alley beneath them, just running. I put many blocks between myself and the diner, ignoring the tears which fell from my eyes. I didn't know why I had allowed myself to get into this situation—to be cut off from my children—but I also knew that, at the end of the day, it needed to be so, to get what I really wanted above all things.

After several blocks, I bent over, breathing heavily, my lungs threatening to explode as I bent over halfway, gripping onto my knees. When my vision cleared and I slowly raised my eyes upwards then, my breath hitched in my throat when I saw where I was. Looking to the left, I saw that I was standing directly next to Nicholas's condo, which he still hadn't gotten rid of, and I still had the key. As I turned to the right, I remembered Josh coming down the street at top speed, and Nicholas throwing me out of the way at full force to save my life. I turned back to the condo again, digging in my pocket for the set of keys I kept—to the houses, my car, various spaces around the restaurant, and Nicholas's condo—as I passed through the gate and up the small set of stairs, sticking the key into the lock.

I caught my breath then as I crossed the threshold, closing the door behind me, and sensing Nicholas everywhere I looked. He'd left a few things here, of course—when we fought, and he hadn't want to return to his childhood home, he would sometimes spend the night here. As I stepped deeper inside, I saw the kitchen first off the hallway, and stood in the doorway, and remembered bandaging up his swollen eye, and our simultaneous lovemaking session, when the boys were conceived. Turning around, I then moved to the doorway of the living room, and recalled returning here from Los Angeles, after realizing I was pregnant, when I broke up with Nicholas, after informing him that I believed he had had a child with Jasmine.

I turned and looked down the hallway, where the staircase was, and found myself drawn to it as I carefully stepped closer to it. Climbing the stairs carefully, I gripped onto the bannister, biting down hard on my lower lip, knowing that if I could face this, I could face anything. I finally reached the top of the staircase, and walked down the upper hallway towards the master bedroom, the door partially open. As I stepped forward, I pushed it open fully, and stood there upon the threshold for several minutes, gazing at the bed. Stepping forward, I put my hand out and touched the pillow where Nicholas had, likely millions of times, laid his head down to sleep, and, slowly, I picked it up, bringing it to my face as tears began to fall, and inhaled slightly, shuddering with sobs.

As I moved to return it to its place, I was caught off-guard by the folded-up piece of paper which had been hidden beneath it. Reaching out and setting the pillow aside, I painstakingly unfolded it and gazed at the handwriting. I let out a small gasp then, when I realized that it was Nicholas's handwriting, and the familiarity of the words jarred through me. They were from an entirely different lifetime, when things were far-less complicated, and I was actually happy...

Murphy, since the day we met, you've successfully managed to drive me crazy in a far more pleasant manner than anyone else in my life has managed to do. In my life, I never assimilated to the traditional values that are taught to you as soon as you can fully understand them, but that all changed when I met you, and us because a possibility. Since then, you've made me a better and a happier man. I promise that I will never stop loving you, and always come to you for advise if I need it. I promise that I will never stop putting you and the kids before everything, and always let you know if we need to talk about something important when it comes to them. And, most of all, I promise to never leave you, because marriage is for life, and I'm devoting my life to you and our beautiful children, because that's all I'll ever want. I pledge this day to be your loving, dutiful, respectful, compassionate, stubborn, loyal, honest, and crazy husband, because I know you will vow to be the same things as my wife. I love you, Murphy Margaret Gallagher, and that's something that'll never change.

I felt a shallow gasp escape from my lips then, as tears flooded my vision as I reached out to trace the words that Nicholas had written to me. And now, as soon as Tommy decreed it, and as soon as the divorce papers were signed, I would be giving myself in marriage to another man. I couldn't understand the notion of missing Nicholas so much, when I knew in my heart that I had never deserved a man like him, because I was unworthy of everything positive that came my way, and I knew I would be bound to Tommy for life...

I looked down at the paper again then, gripping it in my shaking hands. "I love you," I whispered softly to it, bringing it to my lips and kissing it. "I'll always love you. Please forgive me for saying goodbye, but it's for the best...please understand..." I said quietly, my voice finally breaking as I got to my feet and left the bedroom, dashed down the staircase, and ran out the front door, locking it behind me, and then ran as fast as I could back to Patsy's.