I shove the memory down hard.
Focus.
I set her down on the edge of the deep soaking tub and immediately turn on the faucet, testing the temperature until it’s ice-cold.
"Lean back," I command.
She obeys, her eyes wide as I lift her foot and hold it under the steady stream of cold water.
She hisses at the initial shock, her fingers digging into the porcelain rim of the tub, but after a few seconds, her breathing begins to level out.
I keep my hand on her ankle, my thumb resting against the delicate bone, keeping her steady.
I should be thinking about the certificate.
I should be thinking about the legal nightmare.
But instead, my brain is traitorously cataloging the way the light from the bathroom vanity hits the curve of her neck.
"Is it better?" I ask, my voice sounding like I’ve been eating gravel.
Talia exhales a long, shaky breath, her posture slumping as the sting subsides. "Yeah. Yeah, the cold helps. Thank you, Hercules. You’re surprisingly handy in a medical emergency."
I look up at her. She’s already regaining that spark, that "Sunshine" energy that seems to be her default setting.
She gives me a small, tentative smile, her blue eyes searching mine. "I'm okay. Really. I think I’ll keep the foot."
I nod, slowly turning off the water.
I grab a plush towel and begin to pat her foot dry with more gentleness than I knew I possessed. "Good."
I stand up, offering her my hand to help her off the tub.
She takes it, her skin warm and soft, and we walk back into the main room, stepping carefully around the puddle of coffee and broken china.
The paper still lies beside it.
Waiting.
“Damn…” she whispers. “Is that really what I think it is?”
I don’t answer immediately.
Because we both already know.
Because I remember signing it.
Barely.
“It’s a marriage certificate,” I finally confirm.
The words sound foreign coming out of my mouth.
Unreal.
Like I’m saying them inside someone else’s life.
She goes completely still for half a second.
