Page 46 of A Prescription to My Heart

I don’t bother pretending. “Fine. What’s going on?”

A pause. Then, “We’re coming to visit next week.” I grip the phone tighter. “Why?”

“To see Marigold,” she says lightly. Too lightly. “And with everything that’s happened… we’d like to spend some time with her.”

My stomach knots. “You saw her two weeks ago.”

“Yes, but we’d like more time. She’s our granddaughter, Soren.”

I close my eyes briefly, forcing myself to stay calm. “How long are you planning to stay?”

“We’re not sure yet.”

That sets off every alarm in my head. They’re being vague on purpose. Testing the waters. Maybe even considering another custody attempt.

My throat tightens. “Fine. Let me know when you finalize your plans.”

“We will.” There’s a small, deliberate pause before she adds, “How’s your new bride?”

The air in my office suddenly feels thin.

I keep my voice even. “She’s good.”

“I hope we get to see her,” Evelyn says smoothly. “We’d love to spend time with the woman raising our granddaughter.”

My jaw clenches. “I’m raising Marigold.”

“Of course. It takes a marriage.” Her tone is so mild it makes me uneasy. “We’ll see you soon, Soren.”

The call disconnects. I stand there, phone still in hand, pulse hammering. They don’t believe the marriage. And now they’re coming to check.

I drag a hand down my face, exhaling slowly.

Talia and I have not moved in together. There’ no reason. Therewasno reason to. We keep things simple. Distant. Professional.

But now, everything’s changed. If Camille and Patrick sense a lie, and they will try for custody again.

I can’t let that happen.

I’d told them the story Talia and I agreed on as a cover for the “marriage” over the phone.

It was a couple of days after our courthouse wedding, after Marigold had gone to school, and things were settled. I had to do it—before they investigated and found something they weren’t supposed to.

I recall sitting in my car in the hospital parking lot, gripping my phone so hard my fingers ached.

“I got married because I fell in love again,” I’d said simply, skipping the preamble.

Silence. Then Camille’s sharp inhale. “Lisa’s barely been gone for—“

“She’s been gone for three years, Camille. Don’t you think Marigold needs a mother?”

More silence.

Then, Patrick spoke. “Why now?”

I expected that. I was prepared. “Because it was time. Marigold loves her. It just made sense.”

A half-truth at best. I could picture them seated in their oversized leather chairs, exchanging glances, already doubting me.

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