In Your Dreams (Falling #4)(87)

“Hello, this is Murphy,” I answer, squeezing my eyes shut, because I always sound so incredibly unhip with Gomez and John.

“Murph, heyyyyyy,” he says, the word sliding out as if it is longer than one syllable. He sounds high—I’m pretty sure he’s stoned.

“Hey,” I answer back, starting to feel like we might just go round-and-round with this.

“Yeah, hey…so…John wants to get you in. Can you stop by today? We’ve got some exciting stuff to share, and some new ideas he’d like to run by you,” Gomez says.

My pulse is doing triple-time, and I’m suddenly searching around my car for a pen to take notes, even though…I don’t really know what I’d need to write. But a pen…I just need a f*cking pen!

“Sure, yeah…uhm…” I’m stuttering. I’m sweating. I find a pen and I pull a receipt from my purse and turn it around and begin drawing circles. This is stupid, but it’s working. “I can be there in an hour. Does that work?”

“Sounds good,” Gomez says, and I hear some laughing behind him along with the clanks of silverware. “Hey…hey, order me one more…” he says to someone in the background, his hand muffling the phone. “You there?”

I don’t answer at first, still listening, still full of adrenaline.

“Murphy? You there?” he repeats.

“Oh…yeah. Sorry,” I say, pen clenched and drawing triangles now.

“Good, so make it two hours. We’re on a business lunch, and John wants to sit in,” he says.

“Okay,” I answer, my mind searching for what question I need to ask next—there are so many. He hangs up before I get the chance.

My hands are shaking and I’m staring at the 1:37 total minutes stamped on my last call when my phone buzzes again in my palm. I shake my head and try to clear my nerves, to temper my excitement in case Casey’s day did not go well.

“Hey,” I answer—that same hey. I hope I don’t sound stoned and disinterested.

“Beautiful girl,” he breathes, and I sink into my seat, suddenly grounded.

“How’s your dad?” I ask.

There’s a deep breath before he responds.

“Good. I guess,” he says. “Nothing new, but he’s having trouble breathing. They have the oxygen going, and his doctor is coming in this afternoon. I called in to work again. I hate missing so much, but I guess…I mean…whatever, right?”

“I’m sure everyone understands,” I say.

“And f*ck ’em if they don’t,” he says, and I frown, because for the first time since I’ve known him, he sounds so detached from this thing that used to fill him with fire.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you down,” he says, and I can tell his chest is tight and he’s trying just for me.

“You didn’t. I’m glad you can talk to me. I’m sorry this has all gotten so…I don’t know…hard, I guess,” I say.

I hear him sigh long and deep on the other end.

“Me, too,” he says. “But hey. I’m okay. Really, Murph. I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Okay,” I whisper, lying. Not okay. Not at all. And I worry—a lot.

My teeth saw at my bottom lip while I think about how I could possibly mention my news to him. I’m excited, and that doesn’t feel right, because I also want to help and I feel bad. Casey is the person who got me here, no matter what he says. And I want to have him with me, at least mentally, when I go into that big board room again in two hours.

“Gomez called,” I say. It’s not the greatest transition.

“Oh yeah?” he asks. I can hear him working to sound happy…for me.

“They want me to come in to talk about more,” I say, my thumbnail resting between my teeth.

“Murph, that’s…that’s a really good sign,” he says, genuine pride in his tone.

“Thanks,” I say. “I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be. You’re the one they want. You hold the power. The keeper of the chips. The big kahuna,” he chuckles.

“Wow, that’s…like…a whole lot of metaphors,” I smile.

His laugh is soft and breathy on the other side. He sounds tired, and I know he has to work tonight. I miss him. We’ve only been voices to one another all week.

“Do you need me to visit your mom while you’re at the club,” I offer. I know he’ll refuse.

“Thanks, but it’s okay. My sister’s coming in,” he says.

“Which one?”

He chuckles. “All of them, actually. I think they’re going to watch chick flicks with my mom,” he says.

“Sounds nice,” I say.

He pauses for a few seconds. “It does, actually,” he says, and I don’t ask, but I think a part of him likes seeing the women in his life do normal family things that don’t involve banking and dinner-table talk about projects and management.

I want to keep him on the phone with me. I want to carry him into my meeting and have him there just in case, whenever I need. But I know he has a lot in front of him today. So I settle with just hoping I’ll see him later.

“Can I come tonight?” I ask, knowing I’ll show up no matter what.