Tommy was unusually kinder to me as the days went by, and I knew I had to play my cards right in order to not arise suspicion when I told him about my upcoming trip to New York. I made some casseroles for him to reheat in the days that I would be away, and I worked double-time to ensure that the house would be clean in my absence. I bought all his favorite snacks, and made sure that he had plenty of things around there to amuse himself with. When the day before my trip arrived, I made Tommy his favorite breakfast; once I'd cleaned up and Tommy was in the middle of the meal, I came across the kitchen and sat next to him, waiting for an opportune time to speak with him.

"Everything okay, Murphy?" Tommy asked, not looking up.

I nodded. "Yeah, fine," I assured him. "Listen, I got a call from Fiona the other day. Apparently, Jimmy's busy schedule is keeping him away from the home a lot, and she asked if I wouldn't mind coming to see her for a few days."

Tommy looked up. "In New York?"

I nodded again. "Yeah. Given how she left things with everyone else here, she doesn't feel comfortable coming over here."

Tommy's expression then was one of understanding. "I guess that makes sense."

"There's casseroles in the fridge for you, and I bought all your favorite snacks," I said, wanting to make my case quickly. "There's plenty for you to do to amuse yourself around here, and I've cleaned the house. Would you mind if I went for a few days?"

"How long are we talking about?"

I pursed my lips, recalling my itinerary quickly. "Four days," I replied.

Tommy didn't look terribly perturbed about that fact, and, at long last, he nodded. "I suppose I can do without you for that time. I have a few doubles coming up anyhow, so it looks like I'll be all right."

I smiled. "Thank you, Tommy," I said, the gratitude apparent in my tone. "Don't worry—I'll be safe and always think of you. Want me to bring you back anything?"

Tommy shook his head. "No, I'll be all right."

I grinned. "Great. I'm going into the diner for a few hours this afternoon to settle things—I'm leaving Sierra in charge of everything. Then I'm going to come home and pack and get everything together. I leave really early tomorrow morning."

Tommy smiled a little then. "Sounds like you have quite a few things to take care of."

I let out a short laugh. "Yeah, I guess I do," I said, getting to my feet and moving to head out of the house to get things done.

"Murphy."

I felt every hair on my body stand at attention at I turned around, slowly. "Yeah?" I asked, and found that I was very close to stammering.

"You forgot to kiss me goodbye," Tommy replied, power radiating his tone.

I fixed a smile onto my face, despite the bile rising in my throat. "Oh, yeah. Of course," I said, and stepped forward, kissing him on the cheek.

"No, Murphy," Tommy said, his voice slightly impatient as he looked up at me. "When I say kiss me goodbye, I expect a kiss goodbye."

The disgust that filled me then was off the charts, but I knew that I had to play the part appropriately, just for a little longer, in order to make all this work. "Right," I said, shaking my head and bending down. "Silly me."

Growing more impatient by the second, Tommy yanked me down so that my lips met his, forcing his tongue through my lips and down my throat, while I merely stood above him, letting it happen. It took all my power not to shove him off me and to say the secret word for the cameras, letting Mason and everyone else know that I was done. However, Tommy was only guilty of domestic violence at this point, and they authorities had nothing on any form of connection to Nicholas. My heart grew heavy then as Tommy released my lips, pushing me away from him then, while I did my best to smile at him.

"Go about your day, then," Tommy said, finished with me, for now.

. . .

It was still dark when the Uber arrived for me the following morning to bring me to the airport, on my little jet to freedom. I'd kissed Tommy goodbye while he was still half-asleep, but had sent him a text message, reminding him that I'd be back in four days, and to look at the carefully written instructions I'd left for him on the casseroles. I pulled my roller suitcase behind me as I walked towards the car, and its driver popped open the trunk, allowing me to store it there. I slammed the door shut, peeking over at the house across the street, seeing no activity through its windows so early in the day. Shaking my head, I got into the Uber, reiterating my destination of choice—O'Hare Airport.

I was relieved when the driver didn't attempt to make small-talk with me so early in the morning, and paid him handsomely for that factor alone. Gripping my small, carry-on bag close to my stomach, I was pleased when we finally arrived at the airport a little over a half-hour later. I thanked the driver minutely and retrieved my suitcase myself, getting into the correct entrance and walking up to the kiosk, boarding pass in hand. I gave over all the correct paperwork and paid for them to take my suitcase into custody, before I made my way over to the TSA section of the airport. It was a quick process—due to it being so early in the day—and all the authorities soon waved me through, all my belongings intact.

I bought a Starbucks to keep me awake, not wanting to sleep during the two-and-a-half-hour flight and just wanting the opportunity to gather my thoughts. I made it to my gate, where boarding was due to begin in half an hour, and perched on a chair, drink in my hand, and carry-on bag in my lap. I looked outside, the sun just beginning to rise beyond the airport, and remembered how Mickey had mentioned that Ian had loved sunrises. My eyes filled with tears at the notion, knowing that Ian and I were officially in the same boat—due to circumstances, we could not be with the loves of our lives.

The thought cascaded through me then like wildfire, and I knew then that, as soon as I managed to clear Nicholas's name completely, and after I explained myself to my family, that I had one more mission to complete. I had to find Mickey and represent him in court and somehow, some way, manage to get all his charges dropped. Perhaps if I were to get him to plead extreme emotional distress, the judge themselves could see reason and Mickey could come home to Ian once again. I knew that it was what my twin wanted more than anything, and I knew that it would prove to be a wonderful swan song to my law career. I never wanted to set food in a courtroom again—such a practice was littered with disillusionment for me, ever since my own arrest at Trevor's hands—but I knew, deep down, that I owed this to Ian. After everything, I knew that bringing Mickey home was the one thing I could do.

When the boarding call came for first-class passengers, I got immediately to my feet, making my way over to the line of people that had gathered to get on the plane. Rolling my shoulders, I showed off my boarding pass to the flight attendant before I was permitted into the tunnel and onto the plane itself. I found my window seat without issue, sitting in it and shoving my carry-on bag beneath the seat. Straightening up, I grabbed my seatbelt and clipped it around me; I pulled on the string to make it tight around my waist, and my heart proceeded to thunder in my ears when I fully realized how far I was able to pull it. There was so much room in this first-class seat as well; it was in that moment that I realized how much Tommy's influence had taken a toll on my physical well-being. Other than bruising me whenever he thought an infraction had been committed, I was rapidly losing weight, due to stress over completing the mission—as well as day-to-day living—and I knew that I couldn't be much over a hundred pounds at this point, which, I knew, was very unhealthy.

Once takeoff had commenced, I drank water and merely picked at the pretzel mix given to me, not wanting to get sick in the high altitude. I shut my eyes every so often, wondering what New York would bring for me. I knew full well that Fiona was apt to ask me about my appearance and, as my sister, she would likely see me more than once without much clothing on. Even though we'd been close since we'd first met, we'd had our differences as well, and even though I loved Fiona very much, I knew that, since she'd gone, I had become closer to Lip, due to our mutual alcoholism. That relationship had hit the bricks, however, just as mine with Ian, Debbie, Liam, and even Carl had fizzled out. While I was still permitted the occasional AA meeting by Tommy, I'd had to find one in a separate location from Lip's, as too much socialization with my own family was considered taboo by him.

I realized then as we continued flying closer and closer to the East Coast that this was only my third time on a plane. Ever since we'd gotten together—for a lack of a better term—Tommy's parents had always come to visit us from Palm Springs, which meant that a plane trip to see them was unnecessary. Tommy's grandparents, on both sides, were deceased, and he had no siblings to speak of, so there were no trips there either. As for close friends, all of them were on the force with him, so they lived locally, and so trips with Tommy on a flight had never happened. I didn't think Tommy would be able to handle a plane trip on a whole, for his need to abuse me would be off the charts—as we were in public, and one false word and I was dead—as he liked delivering punishment to me quickly.

My thoughts spiraled to the point where I was never want to think about another topic, and, all too soon, the pilot informed us that we were beginning our decent into LaGuardia Airport. I had informed Fiona already of my flight number, so she was likely to already know that we would be at the airport shortly. Once we landed, I got to my feet as quickly as possible, retrieving my bag from beneath the seat, and making my way out to follow the other passengers. I followed the signs to baggage claim, retrieving my suitcase and making my way over towards the exit, where I knew that Fiona would be waiting for me.

My heart hammered in my chest as I looked through the crowd, seeing Fiona's dark head almost towering over most of the people around us. There was a height difference of nearly four inches between the two of us, so I would constantly have to stand on my toes whenever we did end up hugging one another. I stood there for a moment, merely watching her dark eyes flit through the crowd in an attempt to see me, and, once they caught sight of me, they widened. Likely shocked by my change in appearance—for it had been over two years since we'd last seen each other, and so much had happened since then—Fiona immediately shook her head, unknowing all that had gone on, and looked quite frightened to see me like this.

I stepped forward then, dragging my suitcase being me, until I was just in front of her. I forced a smile onto my lips then, the skin upon them cracked from constant biting to stave off the pain from Tommy's beatings, and yet crossed my fingers that they wouldn't bleed. "Hey, Fi," I said, and, for the life of me, I couldn't manage to conjure up a positive tone of voice.

"Murph?" Fiona asked, gazing from the deep purple marks beneath my eyes, to my cracked lips, to my thin frame, and to the bulky clothes I was wearing. "Holy shit... What's been going on with you?" she whispered.

I let out a short laugh then and shook my head. "Not why I came here, Fi, and you know it," I said with a smile. "So, shall we?"

Fiona jerked slightly with a nod, leading me outside. "Taxi!" she called, whistling for one.

I stood on the curb beside Fiona, waiting for a yellow cab to drive up and when it did, I put my suitcase into the trunk without being asked and climbed in after I motioned for Fiona to slide across ahead of me. I leaned back against the seat, still gripping onto my carry-on bag as Fiona gave the cabbie hers and Jimmy's penthouse address. I was pleased at the rugged look of the cab—brown leather interior, reeking of cigarette smoke—and found that it slightly reminded me of the South Side.

"How was your flight?"

I turned and looked over at Fiona, her dark eyes surveying my entire body, almost as if she wanted to yank off my sweatshirt and scrutinize it further. "Fine," I replied.

Fiona sighed, obviously wanting to know more, but it quickly became apparent that she wasn't going to push me in front of the cabbie. "Jimmy's really looking forward to seeing you," she told me, forcing a smile onto her face.

I smiled. "Really?"

"Sure—he's your brother-in-law, after all," she said, leaning back against her side of the back seat of the cabbie, her phone in her lap, and I saw quickly that she was texting him, likely informing him that we were heading into the city now. "He's taken a couple days off so that the two of you can get closer."

I sighed, rolling my shoulders. "His dad still works at the hospital, doesn't he?"

Fiona immediately paled. "What?" she asked, her eyes snapping to mine.

"Jesus," I muttered under my breath, bringing my head into my hands and rubbing my temples, suddenly growing frustrated.

"Murph, please," Fiona said, reaching out and putting her hand on my shoulder, but immediately withdrew it when I twitched at the affection. "You're fighting with everyone who've only been trying to help you..."

I shook my head, raising my eyes and staring out the window. "Whatever," I muttered. "Can we not talk about this now, please?"

Fiona sighed. "Okay. Maybe later," she said quietly.

We drove the rest of the journey in silence, which I noticed was quite difficult for Fiona, since we had another thirty-five minutes or so to go on the drive. When we pulled up outside their building, Fiona moved to pay the driver, refusing to allow me to do so myself. I got out of my side of the cab then, retrieving my suitcase quickly and waiting for her on the sidewalk. When we approached the building, Fiona introduced me to the doorman, Terrance, who seemed altogether pleased to meet me, before we were allowed inside.

"Top two floors are the penthouses," Fiona explained as we made our way past the front desk and over towards the elevators. "Ours is on the twenty-ninth floor."

I raised my eyebrows. "Hell of a climb down via the stairs," I muttered.

Fiona smiled a little then. "Yeah, that's true."

When the elevator arrived, we stepped inside, and I found that the cushioning of the carpet was a comfort to my ankles, which were always hard from standing so often during the day. We rode it up to the proper floor, where Fiona explained that Jimmy would be home before dinner, and that they'd decided to treat me to one out to celebrate my arrival. I merely smiled and nodded at the invitation, and when we arrived on the proper floor, Fiona led the way down the hallway and towards a door, which she unlocked, and moved aside so that I could walk in first. I thanked her and stepped inside, admiring the floor-to-ceiling windows, balcony terrace, lovely living room, and modern kitchen which readily greeted the eye.

"Holy shit," I muttered in awe.

Fiona laughed a little then, shutting and locking the door behind her. "Yeah, I pretty much said the same thing when Jimmy first showed it to me," she replied. "Come on upstairs, then—the guest suite has been prepared for you."

I did my best to smile as I followed her towards the stairs. We went up two flights, with a landing in between, and when we arrived at the upper floor, Fiona went to the third door along the hallway and opened it, revealing a decent-sized bedroom, with floor-to-ceiling windows, a walk-in closet, and en-suite bathroom. I rolled my suitcase to the edge of the bed, and set my carry-on bag on top of the bedspread, before I turned around and looked at Fiona. I hesitated for a moment, not really knowing what to say; there were so many unspoken things between her and me, as well as the rest of my family, and I wasn't about to jeopardize anything, for I knew it could go one of three ways—they would try to talk me out of it, go to the authorities themselves, or they would see to it that Tommy would never lay a hand on me again.

"Thanks," I said, perching on the edge of my bed, "for having me, Fi. I know I haven't really been the best sister lately. And suffice it to say my communication skills have been in the toilet but I'm hoping to change that soon."

"Soon?" Fiona asked, crossing the room and sitting next to me, and a lump rose in my throat, knowing full well that she would attempt to drag something out of me. "I don't want to hear about 'soon', Murph. I want to know what's going on."

I scoffed. "Why does everyone care so goddamn much?"

"If you mean me and the rest of the family, Murph, it's because we fucking care about you—we love you," she said, putting an arm around my shoulders, and looking concerned when I visibly stiffened before I could call it back. "I know they're all freaking out in their own ways—Lip says you don't do AA with him anymore; Ian says that he had to take away your house key and that you hardly make time for the kids; Debbie says that you tried to give her money from Patsy's safe for some reason; and Liam says you finally told him about Dr. Normal. What's really going on here, Murph? I'm worried as hell..."

"They don't trust me," I whispered, my voice quiet.

Fiona inclined her head. "They don't trust you?"

I shook my head. "No. They don't."

"It's not that they don't trust you, Murph," Fiona said gently. "It's just that they have these thoughts about what's been happening and they think that there's something wrong."

Immediately, I shook my head; I had to stick with the plan. "No, no. Nothing's wrong," I said quickly, but, for the life of me, I couldn't sound convincing.

"Then why the fuck did Jimmy's dad hear about you in the hospital?" Fiona demanded then, her big sister voice back and in full-throttle.

I got up from the bed then, crossing my arms and wrapping them around my small frame, and made my way over to one of the windows, staring out at the city below. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said through my teeth.

Fiona got up behind me, and, in the reflective surface of the window, I could see her reaching out to me, but I deliberately side-stepped her attempts to do so. "Murph, I just want to understand what's been going on with you," she said gently, and I shut my eyes, hot tears escaping from them and flowing down my cheeks. "Jimmy's dad heard that you were fucking beaten to a bloody pulp, but that the blood seemed to be old—like it happened in the past. Plus there was the excessive bruising on your skin, and it looked like someone had taken a fucking bottle to your head. And then there was the slashing on your left wrist—"

"Stop it!" I cried out then, my voice nearly breaking, as I reached upwards and covered my ears to her words. "Don't talk about it, Fi! Please!" I begged.

Fiona reached out then and took me by the shoulders, turning me around and taking my hands off from my ears. She stared down at me then, only to find that I was shaking in her grip, and as her hands gently pressed into me, she let out a horrified gasp then. "I can feel your bones everywhere, Murphy," she whispered, pressing all around my back and shoulder. "Jesus. The sweatshirt is trying to hide it, but..."

I shrugged her off then, stepping away from her. "But what?" I snapped, dashing the tears from my eyes and closing myself off to her, crossing my arms again. "What? What are you going to say about my appearance now?!"

The horrified expression didn't leave my sister's face. "How much weight have you lost?"

I shrugged, dragging my hands through my hair, which had just begun to thin that autumn due to the constant stress I'd been under. "Doesn't fucking matter," I said through my teeth. "It's not like I've stopped eating..."

"No, but you're not eating well—or a lot, it looks like," Fiona replied, crossing your arms. "And whenever I reach out to you, you flinch, or when I touch you, you shudder, like you think I'm going to hurt you. Why are you acting this way?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to talk about this, Fiona."

"You don't have a choice!" Fiona snapped then, taking me by the shoulders and holding me there as she searched my face for answers. "Please, Murphy. I need you to tell me what's been going on. We all want to help you—"

"You can't fucking help me!" I shouted then, yanking myself away from her for what must've been the umpteenth time. "I don't need your help, Fi! I'm fine!"

"You're obviously not fine! Look at you!" she said, her voice trembling then. "You're way too thin, you're losing your hair, you act like I'm sticking needles into your skin whenever I fucking try to touch you, you shrink back whenever I want to touch you, and you're actively avoiding the subject whenever I want to ask you what the fuck's been going on! You're obviously not fine here, Murph, and I want to know why!"

I scoffed looking away from her. "Yeah, you would like to know why, wouldn't you?" I muttered then, the fire leaving my tone as I leaned up against the wall, opposite from my bed. "I can't give you want you want here, Fi..."

"Why?" she whispered, and my eyes locked back to hers again. "Why can't you just tell me what's been going on? We're all fucking scared for you..."

I shook my head. "Don't be. I'm fine."

"Murph..."

"No," I said, shaking my head at her, my voice trembling, knowing full well that if there was anyone in my family that could get it out of me, it would've been her, Ian, or Lip. "I can't tell you, Fi. I can't tell you this. Please... Don't make me..."

"Can you tell me why, at least?" Fiona asked, stepping closer to me, slowly this time, almost as if I was some kind of caged animal. "Tell me why I can't know."

I bit down hard on my lip then; I could taste blood seeping out of its cracks, and knew how much of a wreck I must've looked. "You need to stay safe," I whispered, my voice shaking. "So help me, Fiona, if you knew what was really going on, I'm afraid that..."

"That what?"

"That everything would be...I don't know...totally fucked," I replied. "Trust me, things are being set in motion to fix shit, but I can't tell you, I can't," I said, locking my eyes with hers. "Can you just trust me that I'm dealing with it? Please, tell me you trust me..."

Fiona hesitated for a moment. "But... You're not okay, Murph. Are you?"

I laughed a little then, more tears flowing down my cheeks. I leaned my head back then along the surface of the wall behind me, staring up at the ceiling. "No, I'm fucking not," I said, trembling all over. "Tommy has the capability of knowing shit without me telling him, and something happened a few days ago that set him off... That's why I went to the hospital, Fi. He had too much to drink and flew off the handle, but it was an accident. Of course, I could've controlled myself, but I didn't... And now, here we are..."

"Controlled yourself?" Fiona asked, and I lowered my eyes back to hers. "What the fuck do you mean 'controlled yourself'?! What the fuck happened?!"

I sighed, knotting my fingers together. "You can't fucking tell anyone..."

"I won't say anything," Fiona said, stepping closer. "What happened?"

"I saw Nicholas."

Fiona's eyes widened for a moment and she shook her head. "Wait. Nicholas? I thought he ran off and was in hiding or some shit..."

I sighed. "Asked for a favor, from a cop buddy of his, and told him I needed to get the divorce papers signed," I said, the sentence tasting bitter in my mouth.

Fiona sighed. "You're really marrying, Tommy, then?"

"I have to," I said softly. "Anyhow," I went on, before Fiona could question my statement further, "Nicholas was the one who showed up, while we were each under the impression that some sort of go-between had been employed to do this..."

"What happened, Murph?"

"We met at the firm, in my old office," I replied, shutting my eyes and remembering every little detail—his hesitation, the pain that we each felt, his hands on me, his actions in slamming me up against the wall, all of it... "It all just became too much and we..."

"You fucked?" Fiona asked.

I opened my eyes. "Yeah," I replied. "Yeah, we fucked."

"You still love him?"

I hesitated then, leaning back against the wall, ignoring the waterfall of tears which continued to fall from my eyes. "No," I said, the word sounding hollow as it left my lips. "But I still felt something when we...fucked. It was magnetic, I don't know how else you'd describe it. I loved the sensation of his hands on me, and just when it seemed like I was ready—ready to agree to anything he wanted—he fucking left. Left me standing there with the fucking divorce papers that he signed. All I wanted to do was fucking scream and break shit but all I could do was stand there and fucking cry like a fucking teenage girl..."

"Murph?"

"What?"

"Who are you trying to convince here?"

I blinked then, remembering Ian saying the same thing to me—so long ago now—when I was still with Josh, and attempting to prove to myself that I didn't feel anything along the lines of romance for Nicholas. "What?" I asked, looking up at her.

Fiona sighed. "You still love him."

I shook my head at her. "No," I replied. "No, I don't—"

"Yeah, you do," Fiona replied, stepping forward and putting her hands gently on my shoulders and running her hands along them in comfort. "And it's okay to admit that."

"No, it's fucking not okay!" I cried out then, my voice shaking. "None of this is fucking okay, Fiona, not any of it!"

"Murph—"

"No!" I yelled, thrashing in her grip and attempting to get away from her. "No! I lost the greatest things in my life—my husband and my children—and now I'm fucking stuck with Tommy and a shit ton of stuff I'm not allowed to talk about with anyone..."

"Murphy," Fiona said, attempting to hold me to her. "It's okay. I understand—"

"You can't understand, Fi! Nobody can fucking understand!" I screamed. "Nobody can fucking understand any of this because I can't fucking talk about it with anyone! I have no one out there who I can fucking confide in!"

"Confide in me, then, Murphy," Fiona said urgently. "I'm here—"

I shuddered then, shaking my head at her. "You know I can't do that, Fi—there are rules about all of this, and I can't fucking break them... I'm just this fucking drone half the time—sleep, fuck, cook, work, clean, cook, fuck, sleep. Naked. Fucking naked all the time—physically and emotionally—because that's the way fucking Tommy likes it...fucking naked."

"Murphy?"

"What?" I whispered, feeling the physical exhaustion of keeping this all bottled up inside of me taking its toll as I struggled to look up at my sister.

"Tommy's been abusing you, hasn't he?"

I shook my head at her, my voice trembling. "Fiona, I just said that I can't—"

"Murphy, please," she said, her voice firm yet gentle. "It might make you feel better if you just come out with some of it. Don't even tell me everything. Just give me something. I promise, it won't leave this room."

I shuddered then in her arms then, shutting my eyes as a new wave of tears left my eyes. "Yeah," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I collapsed in her arms, and she held me against her, running her hands along my back, and soothing me, just like an older sister who had had to become a mother would do. "You name it, he's done it."

"You don't mean...?"

"Any chance he gets," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Fuck," she whispered. "God, Murph, I'm so sorry you have to go through all that."

I sighed, pulling back from her comforting embrace, and she gently pushed back my hair from my face. "When I can tell you everything, you'll understand."

Fiona sighed, lowering her eyes. "You know, Murph, I'm glad I got you to tell me about what's been happening with you, but that actually wasn't the only reason I wanted you to come all the way out here..."

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

She sighed. "Look, don't get me wrong, I wanted some information on your lack of communication with the rest of us recently—face it, you smell like a bag of secrets from a mile away—but I needed you here."

I cocked my head to one side. "Jimmy treating you okay?"

Fiona laughed. "He works too much, and I miss him, but we make it work."

"So, that would be a 'yes'? He's treating you okay?"

Fiona smiled. "Yeah, it's been great."

"Okay," I said, mulling it over in my mind. "So, what did you need me here for?"

My older sister sighed. "Look, we're not really telling many people yet—and, let's face it, I never even thought this would happen for me, and I wasn't sure I even wanted it until now—but Jimmy and I are going to have a baby."

I stammered then, pulling back as I looked her over. "Wait. Fi—you're pregnant?"

Fiona smiled a little then. "Yeah. Only a couple of months now—which explains the hesitation from telling people about it—but yeah. I'm very pregnant."

"You said you didn't want kids," I said.

She laughed. "Well, I guess I didn't want kids with anyone but Jimmy," she replied. "Now that I've got Jimmy—for good this time—I think it was the right time."

I rolled back on my heels then, mulling it over. "Well, if you're happy about it, Fi, then I'm happy for you."

"Really?" she asked. "You think I'll make a good mom?"

"You've already proven that you're a good mom," I replied. "It's me that clearly needs a lesson in parenting..."

"Murph, if what you told me just now about Tommy is true, then I think you did the right thing by getting your kids out of there," Fiona said with a smile. "You did it to protect them, not because you were being selfish. I think if you told Ian what you told me just now, he would understand it."

I sighed. "If I told Ian, he'd go over to see Tommy with a baseball bat."

Fiona sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right."

I rolled my shoulders. "Look, I know you want me to come clean about everything, Fi—and you don't know how much I want to do that with you and everyone else—but the fact of the matter is, it's my turn to do some protecting. I remember when Nicholas used to pull this shit with me, all I would think about was the fact that he was lying to me. I didn't think fully about the implications if I knew the full truth. Did I want to know the entire truth? Of course I did. But, in this case, if everyone knew the full truth..."

"We could ruin shit?" Fiona guessed.

I laughed a little then. "Well, not exactly..."

"Then explain it to me," Fiona said patiently.

I sighed. "Now, it's really not that simple, Fi..."

"Try to break it down for me, then," she said, obviously not going to give it up so quickly. "I've got all the time in the world."

I bit my lip. "And it won't leave this room?" I affirmed.

Fiona nodded. "It won't leave this room. Promise."

I wrapped my arms around myself again—more for comfort than for anything else. "Let's just say that if all goes according to plan, I could very well be saving the love of my life," I said, and Fiona raised her eyebrows then in surprise, just as surprised as I was, for in that moment, I had allowed myself to be utterly vulnerable to another person.