Jerk It (Madd CrossFit 2)

We both knew he was going to be gone soon.

It was inevitable when you focused on his decline.

But that didn’t mean that I wanted to admit it.

“Okay.”

That ‘okay’ cost me.

He knew it, too.

When he brought me into his arms by tugging lightly on my hair, I could barely hold in the sobs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “One day, you’re going to look back and smile. You can cry for now, though. I have my crying shirt on.”

I snorted.

Then proceeded to cry into his ‘crying shirt.’

Funny thing was, all of them seemed to be crying shirts lately.

CHAPTER 18

I wish I could outsource my exercise.

-Text from Mavis to Murphy

MAVIS

“Can you take me to see the dogs one more time?” he asked.

No.

No I would not fucking take him to see the dogs one more time.

“I’ll take you to see them, but it won’t be for the last time,” I grumbled darkly.

Murphy smiled at me sweetly. “Thank you.”

He knew better than to argue.

Both of us could think it, but neither of us could say it.

At least, that was my motto.

He was very, very understanding of his last moments on this Earth. As in, he was well aware of how much longer he had, how difficult his leaving would be to others, and what him no longer being here would mean to us.

Especially after today.

“I’m ready.”

When I closed my eyes and listened to Murphy’s voice, I could pretend that he wasn’t sick.

Because his voice, despite the heavy breathing, still sounded strong and vibrant.

Still had the ability to send shivers down my spine and make tingles inside of my heart burst to light.

I reluctantly opened my eyes and stared into the bright eyes of the man that I loved.

It was hard to see my dark, beautiful Italian man go from the great big gentle giant that he used to be, to the one that could barely get in and out of a wheelchair without needing a very long rest break.

Like then.

I smiled and waited patiently as we got him in and out of the wheelchair and he caught his breath.

“The lawyer give you a call back yet?” I questioned him as he drew in deep, steadying breaths.

He nodded. “This morning while you were in the shower.”

I looked away.

I knew exactly why he’d done it when he’d done it.

He hadn’t wanted me to hear.

But I knew.

He’d left Vlad and me everything.

I’m talking, every single penny he had.

It all went to us.

I’d overheard him talking on the phone when I’d gotten out because I’d forgotten to bring in my toothbrush. He’d been telling them, with his mother’s help, that he wanted to make sure that it was as easy as possible when he was gone.

He’d even contemplated marriage so I could get away with not having to pay taxes on it a second time.

Something in which he planned on asking me tonight.

Something in which I would give him, because I knew it would make him very happy.

For a few days, Mavis Pope would finally become Mrs. Alessio Murphy Romano.

And if it would make him happy to give me that, then I would gladly take it.

I would take it into my hands, clamp my grip around it, and never let go of it.

And when Murphy was gone, and all I had left of him was my last name, then I would hold that little spark of happiness he’d given me and cherish it until I, myself, took my last dying breath.

“Ready, ready,” Murphy finally said.

I moved the oxygen bottle into his lap, then started gesturing for him to roll his scooter—something he really freakin’ hated—up the length of his bumpy and uneven driveway.

When we got to the front door, I took the keys out of my purse and unlocked the multitude of locks. Just as I was swinging the door open wide and flicking on the lights, my phone rang. “Can you get back there by yourself while I answer this?”

He jerked up his head in confirmation and I smiled at him before blowing him a kiss.

Pulling the phone out of my front pocket, I pressed the green phone icon on the front screen and pressed it to my ear.

“Hello?”

I usually didn’t answer anybody’s phone number I didn’t know, but with Murphy with me all the time now, I tended to answer a whole lot more than I wanted.

The lawyer.

The doctor, checking on him.

The home health nurse.

The funeral home.

That one had come as a shock.

It’d been a phone call that I’d also taken this morning.

When I’d answered, at first, I was confused when they introduced themselves as the funeral director for Bayou Funeral Homes. But then when they explained how Murphy had called them to set up his funeral…

“This is Jeremiah Flannagan,” a deep, low voice said into my ear, breaking me from my thoughts. “You called?”

A fuckin’ week ago.