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“Hey, girlfriend,?
?? Mel said, grinning up at her from beneath the blanket that was pulled up to her chin. A bag of microwave popcorn sat on the cushion next to her. She eyed Shayma’s outfit with a dubious expression. “Nice sweatshirt. Escape from Santa’s workshop much?”
“Funny.” Shayma crossed her arms and sighed, tried not to think about the day she’d bought this stupid thing, with Murphy. How happy they’d been, how quickly it had all fallen apart. “Where’s Daveed?”
“He called and said he and Heath were going to check out a new lead on Aileen’s case downtown. He tried to call Murphy too, but didn’t get an answer. Said if I saw you I was to ask you where he was.”
Going rogue, she wanted to say, but stopped herself.
Part of her wanted to spill the truth to the guys and let them know exactly what Murphy’s plans were for the night. Would serve him right treating her like nothing more than a pretty toy to be played with and discarded when his whims changed. But the other part of her whispered that he’d never offered her more than a fling. In fact, a fling was what she herself had insisted on. How could she blame Murphy for following her wishes?
And that’s where the confusion came in.
She shouldn’t want more with him. The relationship with her parents would be impossible for starters. Not to mention the fact Murphy’s rebellious streak would challenge her at every turn and never give her a moment’s rest if they tried to create a future together. And yet, she couldn’t think of another person she wanted to spend forever with more than Murphy Coen. He was smart and funny and kind and loyal and didn’t take any crap from her or anyone else. He fought for what he loved and believed in and was willing to sacrifice everything to make sure good won out in the end. How could she not love a man like that?
Her heart sank to her toes and she slumped down on the other end of the sofa opposite Mel. “Oh, God. I’m in so much trouble.”
Mel frowned and clicked the TV off. “What’s wrong?”
Shayma shook her head as tears burned her eyes. Putting all her pain and heartache into words was too much right now. She wanted to wallow in her disappointment, cry until she couldn’t cry anymore. Wail and gnash her teeth and generally act like all those silly women in the movies who fell apart when their man was gone. Normally, she couldn’t stand such weak stereotypes, but now, for the first time in her life she understood the power of love… and loss.
She hiccupped on a sob and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Murphy was gone and it was all her fault and she hadn’t realized until too late how much he meant to her and how much she wanted him to stay in her life.
“God, Shayma.” Mel scooted closer to her and slipped an arm around her, pulling her close to lend a shoulder to cry on—literally. “Did something happen with Murphy? Did he…” Mel leaned back slightly to stare into Shayma’s face and her posture drooped. “Yep, he did. Oh, man. I’m sorry. Please tell me you didn’t fall in love with him afterward because from what Daveed says he’s a real playboy.”
Those words only made Shayma cry harder, tears streaming down her cheeks in hot rivulets. She must look a mess, but she didn’t care anymore. What did it matter now anyway? The only man she wanted to take notice of her had walked out the door tonight, out of her life forever. It was so sad. It was so stupid. It was so infuriating.
Annoyance warred with her melancholy once again. More at herself than anything. She wasn’t some lame idiot who sat around waiting for a man to make everything okay again. She was a college-educated woman with brains and money and enough confidence to forge her own path in life. If only her heart weren’t shattered into a million sharp pieces that all dug and tore and stabbed into her chest like thousands of razor blades.
As Mel rocked her gently and stroked her hair, Shayma ran through all the conversations she and Murphy had had over the past few days. She was an optimist at heart. There had to be a way to salvage this situation, even if Murphy was too stubborn or blind to see it. She would have to decide what she wanted then make a plan to go for it. Her future was in her hands, if she was brave enough to take it.
She sat up and swiped the back of her hands over her damp cheeks, her brows knit. “I love him.”
“Wait. You love Murphy?” Mel asked, her expression confused. “What about Daveed?”
“What about him? You know it was never like that between us. We talked about it, Mel.” Shayma sniffled and grabbed a tissue. “No. Something clicked between Murphy and I these past few days. He’s like my perfect guy.” When Mel gave her an odd look, Shayma laughed. “Seriously. I know it sounds crazy. He’s like the complete opposite of Daveed. He’s blue collar and alpha tough and he could use some pointers on fashion, but there’s just something about him. When he holds me, when he touches me, it’s like my soul lights up inside. He makes me want to be a better person when I’m with him. Does that make sense?”
Mel’s slow smile widened. “Yeah, it does.” She tucked Shayma’s hair behind her ear and shook her head. “You’ve got it bad for him, don’t you?”
“I do.” Shayma exhaled. “And it’s not going to be easy. I know that. He’s got severe trust issues from what happened with his mother. I believe that’s why he’s been so opposed to a relationship all these years. He’s afraid if he cares too much, that person will only leave him in the end, just like his mother did. He expects people to walk out on him, so he does the leaving first to avoid being hurt again.” She pushed to her feet, a proverbial lightbulb going on inside her head. “That’s it. That’s how I can get him back and convince him that I’m different.”
“Huh?” Mel stood too, her nose scrunched and her pink chenille bathrobe gathered tight around her. “Sorry, but I’m not following. Do you know where Murphy went tonight? Because if you do, then I need to let the guys know.”
Shayma was already on her way to her bedroom. The gala benefit at the Ritz Carlton would be a high-class extravaganza. She’d need her best gown and perfect hair and makeup if she was going to try and get inside without an invitation. Perhaps her family’s connections would come in handy after all.
“I don’t have time to explain,” Shayma said, going through her closet to pick out a new burgundy velvet evening gown she’d bought on sale at Bergdorf’s the week before. She laid it on the bed, then took a new pair of Jimmy Choo strappy stiletto sandals out of their box and set them next to the gown. The rhinestone straps of the dress glimmered in the golden glow of the room’s lamps. “I need your help to get ready for a party.”
“But what about the guys?”
“The guys can wait a few hours longer.” Shayma grabbed the hem of her grinning Santa shirt and started to tug it over her head. “I’ve got a woman to find and a love to save first.”
7
Murphy saluted the security guard at the door to the Ritz-Carlton ballroom with all the pomp and circumstance he could muster. “Murphy Coen, Ensign to the Admiral Chief of Naval Operations, Naval Special Warfare Officer, reporting for duty, sir.”
The young security guard looked slightly taken aback, his eyes widening at the six-foot-plus wall of muscle cloaked in a military uniform in front of him. “Uh, invitation please?”
Assuming an at-rest stance and giving the guard a flat look from beneath the brim of his hat, Murphy didn’t budge an inch. “Afraid I forgot it, sir. I’m here as part of Senator Lawrence’s entourage from DC. Personal security.”
