Chapter 1
Lo
“How could you hide this from me?”
My boss leans his forearms on his mahogany desk. He sighs as if exhausted by me, but I’m not the one trying to ruin our lives. “What good would it have done you if you’d known, Lo?”
“I could have convinced him not to do this. He always cared about my opinion.” Arms crossed over my black wrap dress, I glare.
“Obviously not about this, seeing as how he came to me, yet left you in the dark.” Brian’s tone isn’t the least bit sympathetic as he talks about the man that was like a second dad to me.
I’ve worked at Murphy and Machon since I was twenty-two and Terance Murphy took me under his wing.
My heart sinks at the memory of the day I met him. I still can’t believe he’s dead.
His death is only part of the shock that’s rocked through the firm recently. The rest came when Terry’s will was read.
“It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.” He laces his fingers on his desktop. “We only have to live and work there for a year. As long as we make that happen, nothing in the main office will change.”
“ There? That’s what you're going to call it?” It’s a rat-infested shit hole in Jersey. “Who lives in Jersey?”
“Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen, Phil Simms, Bon Jovi, and all those –”
Annoyance flares hot in my veins. “I swear to God if you say the desperate housewives–”
“It’s actually real housewives.”
Head tossed back, I scoff. “Why do you know that?”
“I live alone. I get bored sometimes.” His smirk is far too mischievous for this ridiculously spotless office. The man keeps everything streamlined. There isn’t even a paper on his desk.
If we end up in Jersey, that’ll change very soon.
“Not anymore,” I taunt.
Brian’s smirk falls, and I swear he fights a wince. That little crack in Brian’s normally perfect composure hints at just how unhappy he is about this massive change too. He’s just good at hiding his emotions and playing his part.
Terry was damn near close to the most rational person on the planet, so it’s impossible to wrap my head around why he would risk all he worked for over decades on some half-cocked whim.
“Apparently you’ll be living with dumb and dumber soon,” I tease.
He sighs, his posture sagging slightly. “Sully is not that bad.”
Sullivan Murphy is one of Terry’s sons and a junior partner in the firm. Although I guess he and his brother are full partners now. Brian too. Terry’s will, though chock-full of shocking terms, did stipulate that the three of them should have equal shares. Conditionally.
“Sully’s almost worse than Cal lately. And that’s saying something.” Sully is a grumpy asshole on his best days, and since his wife Sloane left him, his bad attitude has grown exponentially. The vast majority of the staff is afraid of him. None of them even want to walk into his office.
He waves me off. “Cal’s harmless.”
“Cal’s useless,” I correct. “He spends more time on his hair than he does on his case files. You know he has highlights, right?”
“No he doesn’t.”
I bite back a grin. “Being that pretty is not natural.”
His lips tip up slowly. “You think he’s pretty?”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” I toss my hands in the air, the annoyance in my veins building. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
“Lo, enough with the drama.” He runs a hand through his auburn hair, then laces his fingers on the dark wood desk again.
Yeah, he’s drained. He’s just better at containing his frustration.
One look around this room tells me all I need to know.
Brian won’t walk away from this as easily as he’s letting on.
Every detail of his office screams his name.
The perfect view of the Manhattan skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the dark mahogany floors he requested during the last remodel, the open floor plan with the leather couches and oversized fish tank that he stops to stare at when he’s deep in thought.
Rather than give in and admit that he finds this just as unappealing as I do, he sighs. “I’m dealing with this the best way I can. If we want the firm running, and we all do, then the trust dictates that Sullivan, Callahan, and I have to live and work at 100 West 3rd Street for 365 days.”
“ In Jersey ,” I remind him, unable to keep from grimacing.
“Yes, it’s in Jersey. And I get that you don’t like that?—”
“It’s the armpit of America, what is there to like?”
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And that small run-down building is the exact opposite of the office we work in now.
“How will I get to work? I live in New York.”
“You could move in with us.” Sitting back in his leather chair, he chuckles.
I don’t even acknowledge the ridiculous statement. There is no way in hell I’d live with the three stooges. I’d kill one of them in within the first week. Probably Cal, he makes even the most reasonable person lose their mind.
“You’ll have to lease an apartment for me in Jersey.” The words taste bad leaving my mouth. Who in their right mind would willingly leave New York City? And for Jersey ?
“Done.”
“What?” My throat constricts.
“We’re only allowed one paid staff member and you and I both know that you care too much about this firm and Terry’s legacy to let us take anyone else along.” He puts his hands behind his head, elbows out, and tips back in his chair, relaxed for the first time in this conversation.
Damn. He’s got me. Of course a lawyer as good as he is would talk me into arguing for something I don’t even want.
Because I definitely don’t want to live or work in Jersey, and I definitely don’t want to set foot in Terry’s derelict starter office, let alone spend forty hours a week there for the next year.
I visited the building a few years ago, and the spider infested space is scary.
God, I hate bugs.
“Does it even have running water and electricity?”
“No clue.” Brian huffs. “He told me about this plan after Sloane filed for divorce a couple of months ago. I thought I’d have plenty of time to talk him out of it. If I’d known he’d have a heart attack and drop dead at sixty-five, I would have pushed the subject earlier.”
It wasn’t so much of a drop. He was already on his back when it happened. In bed with a woman younger than I am. I close my eyes and shake away the images that plague me every time I think about where the man who was like a second father to me died.
My parents have always been entirely too open about their sex lives, so maybe it shouldn’t bother me. But I’d give just about anything to erase the knowledge of how Terry spent his last few moments on earth.
And we aren’t the only ones who know. Everyone does. The woman he was with hasn’t stopped blabbing about it to anyone who will listen.
Everyone also assumed Terry would leave this place to Sully, Cal, and Brian when he retired. Although Brian isn’t Terry’s son by blood, he went to law school with Sully and was long ago virtually adopted into the Murphy family.
So their new status as full partners was expected. But leaving this massive office with its fifty associates, and almost a hundred other employees while they spent a year in another state has us all on edge.
Receiving the news less than two weeks after Terry’s death has only added to the stress.
“How long do I have to decide?” Guilt keeps me from meeting his eye. Instead I focus on the collection of framed diplomas and certifications on the cream wall behind him.
He clears his throat and straightens. “We have one month from the date of his death to move into the apartment and get the office running. And ninety days to get Sloane and T.J. to move in with us.”
Whoa. Lungs seizing up, I force my attention back to my boss.
His only response is an arched brow.
“Oh no.” I splay a hand over my chest. “I’m not talking her into this plan. She and I may be friends, but that doesn’t automatically mean I can convince her to move back in with her ex. I’ll have enough to deal with just getting the place running on time.”
A smirk spreads across his face. It says got ya. “Does that mean you’re coming with us?”
Dammit. Once again, he almost had me agreeing.
“ Lola .” Cal sticks his perfectly gorgeous head into the office without knocking, holding the stupid orange mini basketball he’s almost never not tossing against the wall, or at Sully’s head, or in the air.
He’s such a freaking child.
I choke back a huff. “I have no idea who you’re talking to because that is not my name.”
Besides my parents he is the only person who calls me Lola. And he only does it to piss me off.
“Did I hear that right when I walked by before? Did you call me pretty?”
He’s a master at pushing my buttons, and the asshole just has to speak with a sexy British accent.
God, it kills me to have to listen to him.
Why’d he have to grow up in England with his mother?
If he’d lived here with his father, then he’d sound like every other New Yorker.
Instead his accent makes even the dumbest statements sound smart. It’s incredibly infuriating.
Teeth grinding, I glare at him. The man is annoyingly aware of his attractiveness. “It wasn’t a compliment.”
With a hum, he breaks into a tease of a smile.
“Sure. But it was definitely an offer to buy me lunch. I’m dying for a blue slushie and burger from that place on 8th.
” He tosses the ball back and forth from one hand to the other, blue eyes sparkling with delight.
I swear he wears navy just to make the color pop.
“We both know you adore their chips. And you’re far more likely to get the order right. I always muck it up.”
“It’s fries, not chips. And you screw up the orders on purpose so we never ask you to do them.”
He flashes me a smile so bright I have to fight the instinct to squint and look away. He must bleach his teeth. “Lies.”
“Give us a minute,” Brian says. “Then she’ll get you your Slurpee.”
Cal grins like he’s won the lottery and shoots his ball into the net hanging behind Brian’s door. Cal has one too. They’re freaking children. Every last one of them. How could I possibly be considering moving to a smaller office with these idiots?
As Cal disappears, I turn back to Brian, inhaling deeply to control my frustration.
“Calm down Lo.”
“Ever heard that you’re not supposed to tell a woman to calm down?” I shake my head. “Brian, there is no way I can work directly with that man-child every day.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, none of us want this firm to disappear. And like it or not, this is the only way. Give me ninety days to show you that it won’t be that bad.
That’ll give us time to settle and find a new routine.
Besides, if Sully can’t get Sloane to move in by then it’s over anyway. ”
A pit opens up in my stomach. The idea of losing this place, especially so soon after losing Terry, is untenable.
He’s right. There’s no other choice. Before I can put that thought into words, the door opens again, and Cal reappears. The basketball is still on the floor in here, and he’s got one hand in the pocket of his dress pants, looking relaxed.
“I think the court dropped a kid off for us.”
“What?” Brian’s eyes flash to mine and back to the doorway.
I spin around to face Cal.
He lifts both shoulders nonchalantly, as if it’s a common occurrence for kids to randomly show up at our office.
It’s not.
“Some kid arrived with a note around his neck. Figured it was one of your emergency guardianships.”
The strangled noise that comes from my throat is filled with both anger and shock. “He’s joking right?” I eye Brian, then glare at Cal. “You are joking right?”
He takes a single step back and leans to one side. As he straightens, he pulls a small boy into view. Then he ushers him in a step and waves an arm. “Kid.”
I blink at the little guy, then look back at the six-foot-something idiot standing beside him for a solid twenty seconds before I can speak. “You’ve worked here for ten years. You know that’s not how this works.”
“He’s got a note.” Cal flicks at the envelope dangling from the boy’s neck. “It’s your job to read that nonsense, right?”
Jaw locked, I slowly spin and face Brian.
“ Ninety days ,” he pleads, his hands pressed together in front of him.
Summoning all the patience I can find, I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and give the boy a comforting smile.
He stares back at me blankly as I pull the note from around his neck.
Unfortunately, no amount of breathing could have prepared me for the words written on that page.