Page 135 of Clinically Delicious
“It’s a little funny,” he said.
“It’s chaos. Complete and total chaos. Every single day it’s something new. This morning I found them having a ‘fancy tea party’ at seven AM. Megan was wearing a tiara. Cate had made scones. There were doilies on my coffee table. Doilies, Fitz.”
“Did you have a scone?” Nathan asked.
“That’s not the point.”
“But did you?”
“Yes, I had a scone. It was excellent. That’s also not the point.” I turned back to the window. “The point is that my wife is so anxious about being surveilled that she’s turned my home into a disaster zone, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Have you talked to her?” Julien asked quietly.
“Of course I’ve talked to her. She apologizes, promises to clean up, and then the next day there’s something new. Yesterday, it was finger painting. Do you know how hard it is to get tempera paint out of hardwood floors?”
“I’m guessing very hard,” Hayden said.
“Extremely hard.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “And the worst part is, I can’t even be angry about it. Because I know why she’s doing it. She’s keeping Megan entertained indoors because she’s terrified of what will happen if they go outside. She’s stress-baking at three AM because she can’t sleep. She’s creating chaos because it’s the only thing she can control.”
The room was quiet.
“You really care about her,” Nathan said finally.
“Of course I care about her. She’s my wife.”
“Your fake wife,” Fitz corrected gently.
“It doesn’t feel fake.” The admission came out before I could stop it. “Not anymore.”
Anthony cleared his throat on the other end of the line. “Gabriel, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Richard Castellano is going to use everything he can against you. The surveillance. The photos. The fact that you and Cate got married so quickly. He’s going to paint you as a man who’s so desperate to keep custody that he’d marry his nanny in a sham marriage.”
“It’s not a sham.”
“I know that. But you need to prove it. Which means your house needs to look stable. Organized. Like a real home, not a daycare center that’s been hit by a tornado.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you? Because if Child Services shows up for a surprise visit and finds glitter on every surface and a teepee in your dining room, it’s not going to look good.”
My blood went cold. “Child Services?”
“It’s standard in contested custody cases. They’ll want to do a home visit. Make sure the environment is suitable for a child.”
“When?”
“Could be anytime. They don’t usually give advance notice. That’s the point.”
“Anthony.”
“Which is why you need to get your house in order. Now. Today. Before they show up and see—”
His voice cut off.
Then: “Shit.”
“What?”
“I just got an email from the court. Child Services is scheduled for a home visit today.”
