Page 60 of A Prescription to My Heart

And then, softly, he says, “You look beautiful.” There’s a rich blend of sincerity and something I can’t quite place in his voice.

The words send a shiver down my spine. I offer a tight smile, hoping he doesn’t see the way my heart is suddenly racing.

"Thanks," I reply, my voice quieter than I intend.

“Since we’re apologizing, I’m sorry about Camille and Patrick. They are overstepping big time, but I know they’re trying to push me to react so they can have a case against me.”

“It’s alright, Soren.” I murmur. “I see through the act and I’m sorry you keep having to face this level of hostility. It’s unreasonable.”

He doesn’t respond, just a sharp inhale as he draws me closer to him.

The music swirls around us, soft but powerful. The soft glow of the chandeliers reflects off the polished floor, lighting the room in a golden haze. I don't know how to feel about us here—how I am in his arms, swaying to the same beat. The fact that I’m pressed up against Soren, my head resting on his shoulder as his hand slides around my waist, makes my heart beat faster.

His grip tightens slightly, and I feel the warmth of his body—steady, confident. He smells of fresh cologne, a hint of citrus and wood, grounding me, calming me in the sea of people. The soft rustle of the fabric of his suit brushing against my dress. I can’t help but notice how effortlessly he moves, as if he’s done this a hundred times before. His posture is perfect, his movements smooth—like he's used to this. He’s not tense. He’s in control.

I wish I could say the same about myself. My heart beats a little faster than it should, my hand resting on his shoulder, my fingertips brushing the soft fabric of his suit. I feel small, almost fragile in his arms, as if I might break apart if I move too quickly.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice low, barely rising above the music.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, not trusting that my voice wouldn’t betray the strange fluttering in my chest.

The night is spinning around us, but it’s like we're in our own little world, a bubble that nothing can touch. Every little movement seems exaggerated, meaningful. I hear the laughter of the other guests, the clink of glasses, the murmurs of conversation—but it's all distant, like we're the only ones who matter.

"I should’ve asked you to dance sooner," Soren says, his breath warm against my ear. The closeness makes my pulse stutter, but I don’t pull away. I stay, anchored by the silent connection I know is growing between us.

I give him a small smile, my fingers flexing slightly against his shoulder. "I doubt I would’ve said yes," I tease, my voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckles. “I suppose that’s fair.”

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, everything else falls away. I see the shape of something—something real—in them. It makes my chest tighten, but it also feels... right. The way he looks at me, like there’s no one else in the room.

The music swells, drawing us closer as we move in sync, two bodies finding rhythm together. The atmosphere is intoxicating. It’s not just the way the lights catch his eyes, or the way his hand holds mine just a little too tight, as if he doesn’t want to let go. It’s the silence between the music and words, the way we seem to communicate with every brush, every stolen glance.

Everything feels... intimate.

And then the music stops, popping our bubble.

We draw apart and looking into the dark pool of his eyes, my knees suddenly feel like jelly. I shake slightly and lean against him for support.

Soren immediately slips into the alert mode. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I force a smile. “Must have been all that spinning. Why don’t you get us drinks? I should feel better after a glass of cognac.”

He studies me for a few moments before nodding slightly. “Stay right here. I’ll be back.”

I watch as he walks away, feeling the space between us grow. His absence is sharp, and I’m left standing there, surrounded by people, the music suddenly too loud, the lights too bright.

I force a smile as Camille approaches, her eyes flicking over me. "Enjoying yourself, dear?" she asks, but the tone is light, almost patronizing.

I nod, offering a polite smile. "Yes, thank you."

"Good," she says, looking past me to where Soren has gone. "Soren’s a bit... intense, don’t you think? He’s always been that way, ever since Lisa."

I stiffen at the mention of his late wife, but I don’t let it show. "Everyone has their ways.”

Camille smiles, but it’s tight, almost calculating. "Yes, but I do wonder how long his... behavior will last. How might it impact Marigold. He’s so distant. Not like he used to be."

I don't know what to say to that, so I don't say anything at all. Instead, I nod again and glance at Soren, who is at the bar, chatting with someone.

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