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The simple word broke something open in my chest. Home. Not the house or the arrangement or the legal documents, butthe feeling of belonging somewhere completely. Of being part of something bigger than myself.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“Now we stop pretending this is temporary. Now we build something real, something that lasts.” He smiled, and it was like sunshine breaking through clouds. “Now we stop being afraid and start being happy.”
Outside, while it had started to rain, a soft October shower that drummed against the windows and made the kitchen feel cozy and warm, Colby and I held each other and finally admitted what had been true all along: this had never been about convenience or custody arrangements or legal necessity.
This had always been about love.
CHAPTER 9
Colby
The law office smelled like leather and old money. The kind of place designed to intimidate anyone who couldn’t afford the hourly rate. I sat across from my lawyer, David Voight, watching him spread documents across the polished conference table with the methodical precision of someone delivering bad news.
“They filed the motion yesterday,” he said, sliding a thick stack of papers toward me. “Lyla’s attorney is challenging the validity of your marriage.”
My stomach dropped. Three weeks had passed since Gianna and I had finally admitted our feelings to each other, three weeks of happiness I’d never thought possible. We’d fallen into an easy rhythm of real life: morning coffee shared over the newspaper, evening walks around the neighborhood, quiet conversations after Luca went to bed. I’d started to believe we could actually make this work.
Now Lyla was trying to destroy it all.
“On what grounds?” I asked, though I suspected I already knew.
“Marriage fraud. She’s claiming you entered into the marriage solely to influence the custody case, with no genuineintent to create a marital relationship.” David’s expression was grim. “She has evidence.”
“What kind of evidence?”
He pulled out a manila folder and opened it carefully. “Timeline documentation showing when you applied for the marriage license relative to her custody filing. Witness statements from people who say they never saw you and Gianna together romantically before the custody case began. Financial records showing Gianna maintained her own apartment until the week of your wedding.”
Each piece of evidence felt like a punch to the gut. Together, they painted a picture of exactly what our marriage had been at the beginning a calculated move to improve my custody chances.
“There’s more,” David continued reluctantly. “She has a recording.”
My blood turned to ice. “What kind of recording?”
“A phone conversation between you and Gianna. Something about ‘sticking to the arrangement’ and ‘maintaining the facade for the custody case.’”
The conversation from after our fight, when we’d both been hurt and defensive and said things we didn’t mean. Somehow Lyla had gotten hold of it, and now our private moment of doubt was going to be used as ammunition against us.
“How did she get that?” I asked, my voice barely controlled. And then my stomach dropped. She did have a key. I’d never bothered to change the locks after the divorce because she rarely came by, and when she did, it was to pick up Luca. “She has access to the house when she picks up Luca.”
David sigh and wrote some notes. “That’s likely how. A small recording device in your home.” David’s expression was grim. “It’s invasive, but unfortunately not illegal since she has legitimate access to the residence.”
The violation felt like ice in my veins. Lyla had been in our home, listening to our private conversations, gathering ammunition for her legal war. I made a mental note to call a locksmith the moment this meeting ended.
“But Colby, this is serious. If the judge determines your marriage is fraudulent, it won’t just affect the custody case. You could face criminal charges. Both of you could.”
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process the magnitude of what we were facing. “What are our options?”
“We fight it. We present evidence that your marriage has become genuine, that you and Gianna have built a real relationship regardless of how it started.” David leaned forward. “But I have to ask you directly. Is your marriage real now? Because if you’re going to commit perjury on top of marriage fraud, I need to know.”
“It’s real,” I said without hesitation. “What Gianna and I have now is completely real.”
“Can you prove that? Because feelings aren’t enough. We need concrete evidence of a genuine marital relationship.”
I thought about the past three weeks. The way Gianna curled against me in sleep, the shared looks across the dinner table, the quiet moments when she helped Luca with homework while I cooked dinner. How could I prove that those moments were real? How could I document love?
“We share a bedroom, a bank account, household responsibilities. We make decisions together about Luca. We—” I stopped, realizing how thin it all sounded in a legal context.