17. Talia
Chapter 17
Talia
I move back to my house on Thursday.
It’s raining. Of course it’s raining.
The sky is weeping in slow, heavy drops, each one hitting the roof of my car like a second thought. I carry my overnight bag across the porch, unlock my front door, and step into silence.
The scent of lavender lingers faintly in the hallway—leftover from the last candle I burned before all of this. Before Soren. Before the lies turned into something dangerously close to the truth.
I drop my bag by the door and exhale. It’s over. The act. The games. The pretending.
It was always supposed to end anyway. His in-laws are gone. The pressure is off. There’s no more need to play house.
So why does my chest feel hollow?
I sit on the couch, curling my knees to my chest. The leather is cold against my skin, unfamiliar after the warmth of his guest bed, the scratchy feel of his flannel sheets, the low rasp of his voice when he spoke my name.
No.
This was the right thing to do. I had to pull away before it got worse. Before I started believing that any of this could happen. That he could be mine.
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes and force the thought down.
Soren has Marigold. He has a life—one that’s already bruised and rebuilt. I was only ever a placeholder. A lie wrapped in soft truths. And if I don’t walk away now, I’ll start wanting more.
You already do, my traitorous thoughts think.
The memory of his kiss still lingers—low in my belly, sharp in my chest. The way his hand gripped my waist, the possessive tilt of his mouth, the stunned silence after we broke apart. Like neither of us knew what had just happened.
I haven’t stopped thinking about it. But none of that matters now. I’m back in my space. My rules. My control. I’ve spent too many years building walls to let someone like him break them down.
I tell myself this is for the best. I repeat it until the words lose meaning. And yet, when my phone buzzes with a message— Soren —my heart lurches.
“Just checking if you made it home okay. Marigold says the house feels too quiet without you.”
I stare at the screen. Type. Delete. Type again.
“I’m fine. Thanks for checking.” Simple. Distant.
Safe.
The reply comes seconds later. “Okay. Goodnight, Talia.”
I set the phone facedown and curl deeper into the couch. Outside, the rain keeps falling. Inside, I whisper the truth I won’t admit to anyone—not even myself.
I miss him.
***
I never meant to get this attached. Never planned on falling for Soren Calloway. But here I am, sitting in my quiet house, overwhelmed with feelings I’m struggling to control. Soren’s kiss from the Gala still burns on my lips. It’s a constant reminder of how far I’ve let myself fall, and how dangerous this all is.
When I decided to move out, back to my own space, I thought it would be easier. I thought I could distance myself from everything—from him, from Marigold, from all of it. But now, if anything, it’s harder than before. I can’t get rid of the picture of their faces. Of his smile. Of the way Marigold looks at me with that trust in her eyes.
I don’t know if I can do this.
The doorbell rings, cutting through my thoughts. I hear excited chatter at the front door. Familiar voice. Marigold.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to push away the tangled mess of emotions. I stand up quickly, smoothing down the fabric of my blouse, trying to act normal, even if nothing inside me feels like it.
When I open the door, she’s standing there, her little eyes wide, face lit up with excitement. "Talia!" she exclaims, her arms wide, ready for a hug.
I smile, a soft, genuine smile. “Hey, Goldie. Look who came to visit little old me.” I crouch to her eye level extending my arms out for a long hug that instantly heals my soul.
Marigold wraps her tiny arms around my neck, and I hold her for a moment longer than I should. When I finally pull back, her bright smile fades into a moment of hesitation, and she looks at me curiously.
“Talia... are you okay?”
Her question hits me like a freight train. I freeze, caught off guard by her perceptiveness. I’m about to answer when I hear Soren’s voice from behind her.
“I…was hoping you might watch her. The nanny fell through.” His voice is warm, but laced with an underlying concern that pulls me out of the haze I’d been sinking into. I look up to see him walking up to the doorway, eyes flicking between me and Marigold.
Marigold, oblivious to the tension in the air, nods enthusiastically. “Yes, please! I get to stay with Talia today!”
Soren smiles faintly, but I see the hint of concern still lingering on his face.
I swallow hard, my heart still thudding a little too fast. "Of course." I try to sound convincing, but there’s a crack in my voice that betrays me.
***
I manage a smile as I watch Marigold curl up with the yarn I’d been fiddling with in my living room, her laughter ringing in the quiet house. The silence between us is there, but it’s more comfortable than it was before. It's as if we both know the routine—she’s here, and I’m here, and we’ll get through the day together.
Soren had left a few minutes ago, his parting words lingering in the air. “I’ll pick her up later. Please, take care of her.”
I’d nodded and watched him go, suddenly feeling bereft.
I keep telling myself I made the right decision—moving out, giving myself space. But every passing minute, every smile from Marigold, only makes me question it.
Marigold is still fiddling with the yarn as if trying to make sense of it. She’s so sweet, so open. Her little voice carries through the house, and I can’t help but listen.
Then, out of nowhere, she looks up at me, her big brown eyes wide and full of trust. “Mommy, can I have a snack?”
The word hits me like a punch in the chest. Mommy . I freeze, my hand shocked still in the air as I was reaching for the box of crackers on the counter. I turn slowly, trying to process what I just heard.
Marigold’s face is innocent, confused even. But at my reaction. She’s not aware of the weight of her words. She doesn’t know what it means. It’s just a slip, but it’s enough to shatter the fragile control I’ve been holding on to.
“What did you say?” My voice is softer than I mean it to be.
She tilts her head, blinking at me like she’s trying to make sense of my reaction. “Mommy. I want a snack, please.”
The word rings in my ears. My heart starts to beat faster, a sharp ache forming in my chest. It’s not supposed to be this way. She’s not mine. I’m not her mother. But somehow, in that moment, it feels like I am.
I take a shaky breath, forcing myself to smile. “You want a snack?” I try to sound calm, but my hands are trembling. “Of course, Goldie. Let’s get you something.”
But my hands aren’t steady enough, and I nearly knock over a glass on the counter. I reach for it quickly, setting it upright, but the damage has been done. The moment is broken, and I can feel the tears building up in my eyes.
Marigold doesn’t notice. She’s already back to playing with the yarn. But for me, her words linger.
Mommy.
I feel the walls closing in on me. How did we get here? How did I let myself get so close to this little girl who’s not even mine?
I make her snack, but it’s hard to focus. My mind is spiraling. I tell myself it’s fine. It’s just a slip-up. But the truth is, it isn’t. I’m not fine. I can’t just ignore what I’m feeling anymore.
When the doorbell rings, I jump, startled by the noise. I glance at Marigold. She’s still playing, her attention now on something else—the dolls she’s brought with her.
I walk toward the door, wiping my face quickly, making sure there are no tears. When I open it, my heart lurches.
Soren. He’s back.
He looks at me closely, and something shifts in his gaze. He notices the tension in my body, the tightness in my jaw.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low and concerned.
I don’t know how to respond. I don’t know how to explain this feeling that’s twisting inside me.
“I’m fine,” I say, forcing a smile. But it doesn’t reach my eyes.
He doesn’t buy it. He’s too perceptive. “You’re not fine.”
Before I can reply, Marigold runs up to him, grinning, holding up her snack with both hands. “Look, Daddy! I made a big sandwich for you!”
Soren smiles at her, but his gaze flicks back to me, the question still there, hovering in the air. What’s wrong?
I can’t do it. I can’t hide it anymore. I’ve been trying to fight it for so long, trying to pretend that what I feel doesn’t matter. But I can’t. Not anymore.
The moment Marigold turns her back, I finally crack.
“Why did she call me that?” My voice is shaky, barely a whisper. “Why did she say... Mommy?”
Soren’s expression softens, and he sets a bag down on the couch, walking toward me slowly, cautiously.
“Is there somewhere private we can have this talk?” he asks.
I nod limply walking toward my bedroom and he follows after giving Marigold a strict instruction to stay put. As soon as he closes the door behind him, he faces me.
“Talia,” he says gently, “what are you saying?”
I’m sobbing now. “Marigold. She called me mommy—twice.”
“Talia,” he whispers gently. “It was an accident. She didn’t mean it.”
I nod, but the sting still lingers. “I know, but... it feels so real, Soren.”
He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stands there, his eyes studying me carefully. “What do you mean?”
I can’t help the tears that finally spill. They’re not loud or dramatic, but they’re there, running down my cheeks. “I never meant to fall for you. I never meant for it to feel like this. But I did. And now I don’t know how to protect myself. How do I stop this? I-I can’t hurt her…”
He steps closer to me, his voice softer now, full of concern. “You won’t hurt Marigold, Talia. And you don’t need to protect yourself from me. You’re not the only one feeling this way.”
I shake my head, feeling completely lost. “It’s too much. Everything is too much.”
He reaches out, cupping my face in his hands. His touch is warm, grounding. “You’re not alone. You never were. Don’t push me away. Please.”
I close my eyes, the burden of everything pressing down on me. His words are everything I want to hear, but they also terrify me.
And then, Soren leans forward, his thumb brushing away the last of my tears. He whispers, “Stop trying to fight it.”
And in that moment, I realize he’s right. I’ve been fighting something I can’t control, something I don’t want to control anymore. I’ve been fighting this feeling. This love.
I open my eyes and look at him. And for the first time, I know: I’m done fighting.