Chapter 6 - The Song Behind the Locked Door
Three months later, the mansion no longer sounded like a hospital.
It sounded like chaos.
“Give it back!”
“No!”
“Jonah!”
“You said I could use it!”
“Not forever!”
I stopped outside the playroom.
Marisol stood between the twins.
Her hands were on her hips.
“What's happening?”
Blythe pointed dramatically.
“He stole my microphone.”
Jonah clutched the cracked karaoke microphone.
“I borrowed it.”
“For three days!”
Marisol looked at me.
“Your children require arbitration.”
“I don't negotiate domestic disputes.”
“You negotiate for a living.”
“Different jurisdiction.”
Blythe ran over.
“Daddy!”
I surrendered immediately.
“Give your sister the microphone.”
Jonah looked betrayed.
“That's unfair.”
“Welcome to life.”
Marisol laughed.
Jonah handed it over.
His hair had begun growing back.
So had Blythe's.
Their doctors remained cautious.
But the latest scans and blood work showed continued response.
The treatments were working.
That evening, after the children slept, I found Marisol on the terrace.
Chicago glittered beyond the estate.
“You're quiet,” I said.
“So are you.”
“I own the terrace.”
“That doesn't make silence mandatory.”
I stood beside her.
“Dr. Cole called.”
Marisol turned immediately.
“And?”
“The latest results are good.”
“How good?”
“Very.”
Her eyes filled.
She looked away.
I touched her hand.
“Hey.”
“I promised myself I wouldn't cry.”
“Why?”
“Because then you'll think I'm dramatic.”
“I already think that.”
She punched my shoulder lightly.
I smiled.
Then she looked at me.
“Lawson, when I came here, I thought I'd stay one night.”
“I know.”
“I thought maybe I could give them one good day.”
“You gave them more.”
“The doctors gave them more.”
“You gave all of us more.”
She became still.
“Us?”
I didn't look away.
“Yes.”
“That's dangerous language from Lawson Mercer.”
“I've said worse.”
She smiled.
I moved closer.
“Marisol.”
“Yes?”
“I don't want you leaving.”
“I haven't packed.”
“I mean ever.”
The smile disappeared.
“Lawson…”
“I spent two years after Genevieve died turning this house into a fortress.”
She listened.
“I thought if nobody got close, nobody could be taken from me again.”
“And then?”
“You showed up.”
“Penniless.”
“Annoying.”
“Excuse me?”
“Terrible singer.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I can leave.”
I caught her hand.
“No.”
We stood there quietly.
Then she whispered:
“I'm not Genevieve.”
“I know.”
“I don't want to replace her.”
“You couldn't.”
Marisol's face changed.
I continued before she misunderstood.
“Because Genevieve isn't a position to fill. She was their mother. She was my wife. We loved her.”
Marisol nodded.
“And you?”
I squeezed her hand.
“You're Marisol.”
That was enough.
She kissed me.
Softly.
Briefly.
Then the terrace door opened.
“EW!”
We jumped apart.
Jonah stood there.
Blythe appeared behind him.
“Were you kissing?”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Marisol said simultaneously.
The twins stared.
Marisol looked at me.
“Great teamwork.”
Blythe grinned.
“Does this mean Mari can stay forever?”
Nobody spoke.
Then Jonah shrugged.
“I'm okay with it.”
“Generous,” I muttered.
Blythe grabbed Marisol's hand.
“Come on.”
“Where?”
“We need to practice.”
Marisol looked alarmed.
“Practice what?”
“Our song.”
“What song?”
Blythe smiled.
“The wedding song.”
I nearly choked.
Marisol's face turned bright red.
Jonah ran down the hallway laughing.
May you like
For once, I didn't correct either of them.
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