Page 56 of A Prescription to My Heart

“Not pale enough to skip a gala and still function the next day.”

I slump into the couch, arms folded tightly. A charity gala.Of course I’ve seen them, but I’ve never liked the idea of putting on a performance to get money out of people who couldn’t care less about patients and the struggles healthcare workers endure every day. I’ve never attended any—though it’s rare for the nursing staff to even be invited. Maybe a charge nurse here or there, but the hospital really only wants the “money makers” showing up.

I hate the entire idea.

“We’ve already done the 'we're too busy' excuse. And the 'Marigold has homework' one. We’re running out,” I say.

The clock ticks loud in the silence that follows. The air in the living room smells faintly of coffee and lemon floor polish. The cleaner’s come by. Of course he has a cleaner. I shift my weight, eyeing Soren across the room. He looks as stressed as I feel.

His in-laws have been camped in the guest room all week, acting like monarchs even in another man’s castle. They’re pleasant enough—on the surface—but the undercurrent of judgment from them is exhausting. His father-in-law, Patrick, watches me like he’s waiting for me to slip up and reveal that this entire marriage is a farce.

It is, but still.

“Maybe if we just said we weren’t feeling up to it—” I start.

“That’s code for ‘we don’t want to go,’” Soren says dryly. “And they’ll know.”

“Then maybe they should know! It’s not like they actually invited us because they wanted to see us. This whole thing feels... orchestrated.”

Soren opens his mouth to respond—but his phone buzzes on the table between us. We both freeze.

He glances at the screen, then frowns. “It’s Emma’s mom.”

“Who’s Emma?”

“Marigold’s friend.”

“Oh.” I sit up straighter, suddenly alert.

He answers. “Hey, Delia... Yeah, she’s home... Oh?” Pause.

My heart sinks.

Soren’s jaw flexes. “A sleepover? Tonight?” He looks at me, voice flat. “That’s... convenient.”

I mouth,No, vigorously.

Soren rubs his temple. “Sure, yeah. Marigold would love that. What time?” Another pause. “Alright. I’ll bring her over after dinner.”

He ends the call and drops the phone like it burns. “So much for Marigold being our excuse.”

I groan and let my head fall back against the couch. “Unbelievable.”

“Emma’s been begging her mom for a sleepover. Marigold is going to lose her mind when she hears.”

Right on cue, the front door bangs open.

“I’m home!” Marigold’s voice sings from the hallway. Her shoes slap against the floor as she rushes in, face lit with excitement. “Guess what? Emma wants me to sleep over tonight!”

Patrick and Camille suddenly appear from the guest room, trailing in behind her, their expressions smug.

Camille moves in to hug Marigold, smoothing down her damp curls. “Well, isn’t that perfect timing?” she coos.

Patrick smiles without a hint of warmth. To us, he says, “Now the two of you can come to the gala without worry.”

Soren and I exchange a look over Marigold’s head.

Now we’re trapped,I think.

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