Page 85 of The Pact
Marlowe reviews the basics again, and the strength in the fact that this is what Savannah and Chris wanted per their will.
“To expand on what Rebecca was saying, the court will examine the children’s best interests. Stability in the home. Where they’ll be going to school. What emotional support systems are in place. What the day-to-day caregiving will look like.” She opens one of the folders in front of her. “It’s clear you have the financial ability to care for them, so that won’t be an issue, but it doesn’t address all their concerns.”
I nod once.
“The court will look closely at all the practical realities,” Doug, the other attorney, adds. “Who will be with the children when you travel. Who will attend school meetings, doctor appointments, extracurriculars. What will happen when you’re at training camp, away games, and hopefully playoff runs.”
“I’ll arrange coverage,” I say.
“Of course,” Marlowe says. “And that should absolutely be part of your plan. But I’ll be honest, Wyatt. The Harts may argue that a paid support system isn’t the same as familial stability.”
My hand tightens around Presley’s.
“What are you saying?” I ask.
Marlow holds my gaze. “I’m saying it would help your case to demonstrate a stable family structure in the home.”
My stomach churns.
“A spouse,” Doug adds, more direct.
Silence.
“A spouse,” I repeat.
“Or a long-term, committed partner,” Marlowe says carefully. “Someone who is able and willing to show consistent involvement in the children’s daily care. Someone the court can view as a stabilizing presence.”
I just stare at her.
The words sink into me slowly. A stable partner. It’s like my brain refuses to make the obvious connection because once it does, there will be no going back.
I feel Presley’s hand in mine, warm and steady.
The one person who’s been here with me when I couldn’t breathe. The one who helps me with the kids. Who sits with Rhyan through nightmares and helps Remy through his first day at his new school.
Who sleeps beside me without demanding anything from me.
She’s the person I trust the most. Who I want the most.
And the person I made a pact with eleven years ago.
My heart beats faster, but I force the thought down.
“Now, we’re not saying you need to rush anything,” Marlowe continues. “But if you have someone in your life who is already functioning in that role”—she pauses and looks at Presley—“the court may take that seriously.”
Presley shifts beside me.
Mr. Grant clears his throat. “We’re here to support you, Saint. Whatever you need.”
I look at him, wondering if he’d say the same, knowing the thoughts running through my head about his daughter. Making his daughter my wife.
And what’s worse is, I know he means it.
“Thank you,” I say. “I need some time to think.”
“Of course,” Marlowe replies.
They continue to talk, and I think I nod when I’m supposed to. Possibly answer a few questions on autopilot. But I’m not absorbing one thing.
