After a handful of weeks of Ian telling me to snap out of my funk, and me telling Ian not to go after Nicholas or Josh, things managed to settle into a halfway point between normal and abnormal in our day-to-day lives. I didn't show my pain towards Nicholas or Josh in front of Iana, of course, because even though my daughter was wise beyond her years, and I wanted her to understand that honesty was important within a family unit, I didn't want to burden her with the problems of an adult so early in her life. Ian noticed, however, and yet resolved to remain tight-lipped whenever Nicholas was around, although I had the sense that my boyfriend knew that something was up.

"You doing okay?" he asked me, about a week before Thanksgiving, when we'd just finished a meeting with Gwen Eastman, in preparations for opening arguments happening in January. "I mean, you were really quiet today..."

"I presented my notes when asked to do so," I replied, trying not to sound too defensive towards him. "What else was there to say?"

Nicholas nodded. "You're right," he said, gathering up his paperwork, sounding more concerned than anything else. "You didn't prattle on about your personal life," he went on, and I could sense that this was his attempt at a joke, in an effort to get me to open up to him. "I'm surprised you only replied to Gwen asking about Iana. Usually you..."

"Go on and on about her," I said, plastering a smile onto my face as I finished picking up my things in a somewhat organizational manner. "I know. I've been trying to work on that. Fact is, I want people to care as much about my daughter as I do, but I've come to realize that certain things aren't healthy wishes."

He shook his head. "No. In our line of work especially, we have to be careful how close to people we present ourselves."

"And maybe to each other," I say, the words slipping from my lips before I can stop them, and I deliberately look away from Nicholas then, checking my phone.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

Immediately, I shook my head. "Nothing," I replied, my tone clipped. "Hey, it's almost two-thirty now, so I've got to get to my office and finish my work before I'm done for today. I know it's one of my long days, but Gwen gave us some things to think about..."

"Sure," Nicholas replied.

I raised my eyes to his, giving him a stiff nod. "Great," I replied, turning around and placing my hand upon the door handle.

"Hey, Murph?" Nicholas asked, coming up behind me and placing his hand on mine, which caused my whole body to stiffen. "You okay?"

I turned around then, my stiffness not leaving me. Since Halloween, Nicholas and I had seldom been physically close, even though we were now in a relationship, and I could sense that he missed me, but I didn't want to give in to my body's urges—I couldn't. I felt like there was a barrier between us that had ceased to exist since this past June, during the blissful, early days of our relationship, but now that there was this lie just festering between us...

"I'm fine," I said quickly—too quickly.

He arched an eyebrow. "You sure?"

I nodded, determined not to have a screaming match with him in a conference room—I wouldn't air on that side of professionalism, or lack thereof, ever again. "Of course. Everything's fine. I mean, you don't have to worry..."

"I do... I worry," he said then, the small confession slipping through his lips.

I hesitated for a moment before standing on my toes and kissing him lightly on the lips. "Don't worry about me, Nicholas, please," I told him, my voice firm. "I mean, I was alone for the first two decades of my life..."

"You're not alone anymore, Murphy..."

I swallowed then, knowing that if I didn't get out of this position, I could very well end up doing something I'd later regret. "I know that," I reply.

"What are you doing next week?" he asked quietly.

I blinked. "As in, next week-next week, or a week from today?"

"The second one."

"Thanksgiving," I said, giving him another stiff nod. "Just dinner with the family, like we always do it—Gallagher style," I said, shrugging. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to ask if you wanted to shake things up a little."

I mulled it over in my mind, pulling a bit at the frayed edge of my leather file folder, which I reminded myself to get replaced before we returned to court in less two months. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I'm asking if you want to have Thanksgiving with me—well, my family—at my parents' house this year..."

My eyes shot upwards to Nicholas's. "You mean, have it with your family?"

Nicholas nodded. "That's exactly what I'm asking, yes."

I sighed. "That's a very sweet offer, Nicholas, really..."

"But?"

"But Iana feels most comfortable at our house and it would be a massive to do to have such an overwhelming day as it is—which I have to help prepare—and just yank her out of her typical environment for a few hours," I replied, knowing that I had to lie, just this once, to get out of spending more time with him. "I have to think of my daughter's best interests here, Nicholas. I told you from the get-go, it's not just me."

"I really think you're holding her too close to you, Murphy..."

"You don't get to voice your opinion so fully, Nicholas," I retorted. "You may be my boyfriend, but you are not Iana's father. Iana's mine, and I get to make the decisions for her as I see fit," I said firmly, managing to find the door handle from behind me. "Now, if you will excuse me, please," I said, stepping out into the hallway, "I have some more paperwork on the Eastman case to catch up on."

I turned around then and left him standing there in the conference room and I promptly walked down the hallway towards my office without looking back. I let myself into my office and shut the door behind me, becoming sickened all over again at the sight of the hideous modern and slightly futuristic furniture. Crossing and placing my belongings upon my desk, I move towards the window and pull up the blinds quickly, and roll my eyes then, having forgotten that, in this interim location, the only thing I could see staring back at me was a solid brick wall, which just had to be some sort of sick metaphor, I reasoned with myself before pulling the blinds back down again.

That night, after everyone but Ian and I had gone to bed, we were sitting on the couch as we frequently did so late, not really watching the T.V. I had since allowed my head to fall onto his shoulder, and Ian had too leaned his head down upon mine. As we sat there in mutual silence, I found the need to speak, for although my twin now knew everything, much had remained unspoken regarding our day-to-day lives recently.

"Nicholas and I spoke today."

"Really? Don't you speak every day?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, but this wasn't about work. It was personal."

"Yeah? What did the liar want now?"

"Look, despite everything, I don't want you calling him names."

"Fine, then," Ian replied. "What did he want?"

I scoffed. "That's better," I said softly. "He asked about Thanksgiving."

"Please tell me you didn't invite him here," he said through his teeth. "It's bad enough watching you refuse to let him spend the night now that he's been branded a liar..."

"Ian," I said, my voice firm.

"Sorry. Continue."

"No, I didn't invite him here," I told him quietly. "I told him some bullshit about Iana being overwhelmed and that it would make her upset if I brought her over there..."

Ian laughed. "You could've said I'd be upset..."

I inch my head away from his before looking up at him. "You would have been upset if I went to Allie and Hugo's for Thanksgiving?"

He shrugged. "If it meant you spending more time with Nicholas, with a lack of communication between the two of you, yes."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Well, he admitted that he's worried about me, but that could just mean that he's upset that I'm not fucking him on the regular anymore..."

"You're not?"

"Not regularly, no," I replied. "Of course, given our long work hours on this latest case, the whole 'I'm tired' thing really helps. Plus there's Iana to consider; I mean, I am exhausted from work and I need to devote some time to her..."

"So, did you say 'no'?" Ian asks. "About Thanksgiving?"

"Of course," I replied. "I didn't say, 'Take this invitation and shove it' or anything like that. I'm biding my time with this lie..."

"To see what it gets you?" Ian asked with a smirk.

Without hesitation, I slapped him on the shoulder. "No, you asshole," I said, a laugh creeping out of my mouth for the first time in I didn't remember how long. "Just... I don't know. Maybe a part of me thrives on drama..."

"You're a Gallagher," Ian said.

I sighed. "I know that."

"So, when are you going to tell him that you know he's in love with you, but can't stand the fact that he lied to you?"

I laughed. "The big reveal usually comes at the end of something... So, I don't know, maybe once the trial ends or something..."

"You sound like a character from a T.V. show," Ian said with a laugh.

I shrugged. "Hey, who knows really?" I said. "The fucking government probably has the house bugged or something. Who knows with the way politics are going?"

. . .

I woke up on Thanksgiving to the sight of Iana grinning at me as she stood in her crib, and I found myself laughing at the impish expression she was giving me. Climbing out of my bed and crossing over to hers, I lifted her out immediately and let out a noise at the notion that she needed to be changed immediately. I set her down atop the changing table and got to work immediately, not wanting the day to be overtaken completely, especially so early in the morning. Once she was changed and clean and my hands were sanitized, I looked over her bit of the wardrobe and selected a white, frilly blouse, along with a sleeveless brown dress, orange tights, and black Mary Jane shoes.

"You are going to be the prettiest there ever was, my darling," I informed her, kissing her on the forehead as I got her ready.

"You are, Mama," Iana replied.

I rolled my eyes. "Not Mama," I said, nibbling at her fingers as she laughed. "Now, you stay right there, young lady," I said, flashing her a grin. "Mama has to get dressed now. Then we'll go to the bathroom and brush our teeth, and then it's downstairs we go."

"Turkey!" Iana said, clapping her hands.

"That's right!" I said, grabbing a pair of my nicer jeans out of the closet, and pairing them with a burnt cream-colored sweater with a chunky neck, as well as a caramel-colored pair of ankle boots to finish off the fall ensemble, taking off my pajama pants and replacing them with my jeans, which I now stepped into. "And there will be lots of people here to see you! Your aunts and uncles, and Cousin Franny..."

"Trev-Trev?" she asked, her affectionate nickname for Trevor still amusing to me.

I nodded, replacing my tank top with a proper cami before putting my sweater on. "Of course Trevor is coming, angel," I told her.

"And Nicky?"

I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to lie to her, but also wanting to turn this into a teaching moment as I straightened out the neckline of my sweater. "Well, you know, sweetheart, that Nicky's mother and father like to have him at home..."

"Yes?" Iana said.

"Well," I continued, grabbing my boots and moving to sit beside her on my bed, "Nicky is going to spend Thanksgiving with them today. His brother Lucas is coming into town with Ben, and they are going to celebrate at Hugo and Allie's house, and you and I are going to celebrate here with Uncle Ian and everybody else."

"No Nicky?"

I shook my head, buckling my boots into place before turning to look at her. "Not today, I'm afraid, lovely. Is that all right?"

Iana nodded, processing it for a moment before looking up at me. "Yes, it's okay," she said after a moment or two of silence. "But can I still miss Nicky?"

I smiled down at her, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Of course, sweetheart. You can miss Nicky—of course that's all right."

Iana smiled. "Okay, Mama," she said, holding out her arms as I got to my feet.

I smiled indulgently at my daughter, scooping her up and taking her out of my bedroom, tucking my cell phone in my pocket as I went. Making my way down the hallway, we stepped into the bathroom and brushed our teeth before going downstairs. "Morning!" I called to Ian, who was doing something with his cell as I placed Iana beside Liam on the couch. "What are you doing right now?" I asked him, wandering into the kitchen proper to cut up a peach for Iana, knowing full well she wouldn't be able to wait for another six hours or so.

"Texting with Trevor to coordinate when he's coming..."

"He bringing anything?" I asked, running the peach underneath the tap before wrapping it into a paper towel for a moment.

"Yeah—stuffing."

I snorted for a moment, and Ian looked up at me with raised eyebrows. "Nothing—nothing!" I said, immediately shaking my head as I dug in a drawer for a suitable knife, before slicing up the peach and putting it on a plate. "Come on, Iana!" I called to her, watching as she got herself down from the couch to come over to the highchair, which I lifted her into. "Want a banana, Liam?" I called back to him.

"Yes, please," Liam replied, not looking away from whatever contrived holiday special he was watching—I think I saw some cartoon renditions of pilgrims...

"Okay," I said, grabbing one from the fruit bowl and bringing it over to him. "And what all is everybody else bringing?"

"Fiona's bringing some pies, of course," Ian said, "and Debbie said something about Lip bringing potatoes..."

I shrugged. "Works for me."

"Debbie's bringing yams..."

"Dessert yams or gourmet yams?"

Ian looked up. "Is there a difference?"

I laughed. "Of course! Dessert yams have the marshmallows, but everybody eats them as a side dish for some reason. And then the standard ones..." I shrugged. "...I don't know, they don't have marshmallows, I guess. Oh, how should I know?!" I demanded, when Ian proceeded to break out into laugher. "You know as well as I do that I hate yams!"

Ian smirked in a moment of triumph. "Yeah, I knew that."

"You really suck," I said, shaking my head at him.

Ian laughed aloud then. "So I've been told."

"Hey!" I said, trying and failing to remain serious. "Not in front of Iana."

Ian shrugged. "Your call."

The next several hours were taken up with cooking the turkey, gravy, green beans, and everything and anything that the rest of the family wasn't bringing. Trevor showed up first, spending time with Iana in the kitchen with the two of us as we scrambled around with the cooking aspect of things. Fiona and Lip arrived together shortly thereafter, each with their promised dishes, and Fiona set to work in getting the table ready. About half an hour later, Debbie, Franny, and Carl showed up as a unit, and the latter sat with Liam on the couch reveling in being sprung from the military academy, albeit on a short-term basis.

"How's things with Nicholas?" Fiona asked, once she got me alone, as Ian had sprung me from cooking duty to help her set the table.

I shook my head. "No comment."

"I'm not some news anchor wanting the latest scoop on a case, Murph," Fiona said, her tone slightly critical. "I'm your sister."

"So what?" I said, my voice hinging a little then on the boarder of devastation as I tried to keep it together as I turned to look at her. "So what, Fi? It doesn't matter who you are. If I don't want to talk about it, I shouldn't have to..."

"Hey, hey, wait a minute," Fiona said, catching my arm as I moved to leave the room. "Stop running for two seconds."

"Let me go, Fi, please..."

"Not until you tell me what's bothering you," she said firmly, searching my face. "Something is obviously bothering you, and I want to know the reason."

I shook my head. "There's no reason. Just drop it, Fiona," I said, locking my eyes with hers, their shade nearly identical, and I cursed myself for only just noticing it now. "Please. Just let this all go so we can have a proper family get-together..."

"Your voice is shaking, which is a direct tip-off to me that something is wrong," Fiona said, her voice gentler this time around. "Come on, Murphy. What's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I replied, yanking away from her, this time able to do so, and walked out of the room, down the hallway, and outside. The cold cut into my sweater as I slammed the door behind me, and I automatically crossed my arms to ward off the cold. I put my head into my hands, dragging both palms along my cheeks then before the fell to my sides, the sound of a card door and a familiar face catching me off-guard.

"Murph?"

My breath came out in cloud-like puffs as I stood there, frozen, on the front porch of my house as I watched then, as Nicholas circled his car and walked up to the gate. "Nicholas?" I asked him then, my voice coming out a slight squeak. "What are you doing here?"

He hesitated for a moment, his hand inching towards the lock of the gate. "Well, if I could come inside, I could explain myself..."

Immediately, life returned to my legs then as I marched down the stairs, onto the path, and towards the gate, whereupon I jammed down the gates' lock again. "Outside is far enough," I replied, my tone clipped and no longer inquisitive.

Nicholas blinked in surprise then. "Really?" he asked, his voice filled with a good degree of shock, but I would not allow myself to be moved.

"Yeah. Far enough," I said, crossing my arms. "State your purpose."

Nicholas looked slightly pained—a significant amount of self-control was used then as his eyes fully absorbed the pain, which likely flowed through him, yet he resolved to hold it back from me then. "I want to know why..."

I sighed, dragging my hands through my hair at his hesitation. "Nicholas, I'm sure you're quite aware of what day it is," I said, resolving to keep my tone clipped.

He sighed. "Yes, I'm aware. Which is why I had to see you..."

"Okay," I said, shrugging. "Talk."

"I want to know why you've been so distant towards me," he said, reaching out then to take my hand, but I automatically stepped away from him. "Murphy..."

"I'm not lay out all my cards out on the table," I said, trying to keep my tone emotionless, knowing that he had the capability to suck me in at any moment. "Not like this."

"Not like what, Murph?" Nicholas asked, attempting to reach for me again, but I pulled myself back even further. "Jesus. Are you turning into a fucking nun on me?!"

"No!" I shouted at him, and he was shocked by the rage that was pushed forth into that one single word. "No, I'm not," I said, containing myself by speaking through my teeth. "No, I'm not turning into a fucking nun, okay?"

"Then what the fuck is the matter with you?!" he demanded. "For weeks you've been pulling away from me, and I want to know why!"

"Why?" I said, scoffing the word to myself, knowing that I couldn't give up the true reason, not yet, despite the notion that it was eating me up inside and damn near killing me. "I can't tell you that, Nicholas," I said, turning back to look at him.

He shook his head then. "Come on, Murph. Talk to me."

"I don't want to," I replied. "I don't want to do this today. Of all days, Nicholas, don't make me do this now," I said, turning around and walking towards the house.

"When would you like to do this, then?!" he demanded.

I turned around then, midway up the stairs. "Monday works fine for me!"

Nicholas grumbled then, throwing up his hand. "Okay, fine," he called back, sounding slightly defeated then as he moved back towards his car.

I got up the rest of the way to the door, letting myself inside and slamming it back behind me, and leaned up against its body. I looked up then, seeing Ian coming towards me, and I hesitated for a moment.

"Your face and nose are red," Ian said.

I shrugged at him then, grabbing at my nose to ward off looking like Rudolph nearly a month too early. "Your nose is attached to your face, so I hardly see why it deserves its own mention," I said stoically.

Ian gave a slight nod. "Want to talk about it?"

"Give me ninety-six hours," I replied, walking past him to the kitchen. "I may take you up on the offer then."

. . .

I arrived at the firm on Monday morning, finding that the atmosphere was surprisingly quiet as I passed the assistants' station and made my way towards my office. I open the door and flip on the light, shutting it behind me and making my way over to my desk, setting down my things and putting my hands on my hips. I didn't know if Nicholas was in yet—all he'd told me was that he would be in to see me sometime that morning for our discussion. A bit of dread trickled up my spine as I considered it, and wondered what if...

The sound of my door opening would've normally sent me into attack mode, but as I turned around and caught sight of Nicholas, I hesitated for a moment, just standing there at my desk as he moved to shut the door behind me. I deliberately moved in a side-stepping motion away from my desk, effectively letting Nicholas know that now was not the time to fix our problems with sex, something that we'd frequently fallen back on. Mentally shaking my head at the notion of how we'd solved things in the past, I sighed.

"Talk," I said quietly.

Nicholas sighed. "Fine. What do you want me to say?"

I crossed my arms, forcing my tone back several notches so as I didn't come out screaming at him, no matter how much I felt he deserved it. "You really don't want to play this game with me right now," I replied. "I may have said when I was ready to talk, but I certainly don't want to dictate your speeches now. Just...talk," I said, really struggling with my own speech then, not wanting to turn him away completely.

He dragged his hand through his hair. "I don't know what you want to hear."

I rolled my eyes, quickly losing my patience with him. "I don't necessarily want to hear one thing or another, Nicholas." The truth would be beneficial, I thought to myself. "Just tell me what you came here for."

"To talk about this sentence of discipline that you seem determined to place me under!" he cried out, growing annoyed with me.

I shook my head at him. "You wouldn't understand..."

"Then try me," he replied then, crossing the room, and taking me by the arm. "Just talk to me Murphy, please..."

"Don't," I said then, jerking away from him. "I thought I made it physically clear to you the other day that I didn't want you touching me."

"Why?" he asked then—more of a demand—as he reached out towards me again, and I gasped as he touched me. "Why don't you want me touching you? Are we okay?"

"Get the fuck off me!" I screamed, shoving him away from me. "I don't want your hands anywhere near me—"

Nicholas grabbed me then, slamming his mouth onto mine, kissing me, roughly, on the mouth, and I melted at his touch. "Really?" he asked then as I responded to him.

"Shut the fuck up," I replied, fumbling then with his trousers and finding him then, before hiking up my skirts, dropping my panties to allow him easy access. I dragged my hands around his pockets, rolling my eyes when I found a condom lurking inside, and ripped it open, putting it on before I yanked him closer, allowing him inside me. "Don't talk," I told him, slamming my mouth back onto his.

"Fair enough," he replied.

"That..." I gasped aloud at the impact I felt at the feeling of him inside me, after so many weeks of going without. "...counts as talking, Blomqvist..."

"Sorry, Gallagher," he replied.

I rolled my eyes. "Just...shut up," I said then, biting my lip then as he slammed me up against one of the walls of my office, taking me roughly and quickly—just what the doctor ordered, although a psychiatrist would bat an eye. After a total of two minutes, we had both managed to satisfy one another, and I shoved Nicholas away from me then, yanking up my panties again as I moved to walk away from him.

"Hey, wait a minute," Nicholas said, dragging me back to his side, while his free hand made quick work of adjusting himself as I pulled my skirt back down. "You didn't answer my question from before."

I sighed, attempting to get back to my desk, which I just managed to do, in order to fetch my hand sanitizer, which I considerately offered to Nicholas as well, which he took. I hesitated for a moment, attempting to get my breathing under control, which would be necessary, as we had a Skype call with the judge of the Eastman case later that afternoon to discuss preliminary arrangements for the opening arguments. "And what question was that?" I asked him, smoothing my hair once my hands were deemed 99.9% free of germs.

"Are we okay?" he asked again.

I sighed, knowing that I had to play it cool, especially now that I'd given in to my baser instincts, and, even though I hated myself for it, I crossed back over to him, placing a light kiss on his cheek and forcing myself to smile up at him. "We're fine," I replied. "Why wouldn't we be? I think we just made up whatever was going on between us by that little display anyway. Nothing to worry about."

Nicholas nodded. "You sure?"

I returned his nod. "Absolutely."

Nicholas too gave me a kiss on the cheek. "See you later," he said, taking the opportunity to squeeze my ass in the process before he slipped out of my office.

I sighed, moving to pick up my phone, which inadvertently when into camera mode, and I got a good look at my flushed face. "Toxicity, my name is Murphy Gallagher," I said to my reflection, and shook my head. "Fuck me. What have I done?" I whispered to myself, exiting the camera app and opening up my text messaging one, finding my conversation with Ian.

I know it hasn't been ninety-six hours yet, but this is your twin who is having a revelation that she is in a toxic relationship. Please respond, I wrote quickly, sending it off and hoping beyond hope for the best.