Chapter 10
Liam
The first week of shooting was almost over, and he was already tired down to the bone. Not the exhaustion of long days and late nights, not the ordinary grind of set life—this was the kind of tired that came from feeling too much and pretending he wasn’t.
He was sitting in the nursery, surrounded by pieces of wood and screws that refused to make sense. The crib stood half-assembled in front of him, more accusation than furniture. A manual dangled from one hand, a screwdriver in the other, but neither had been put to use in thirty minutes.
From the hall came the sound of Emma humming to herself—folding laundry or unpacking one of the endless baby boxes their friends kept sending. This was supposed to be his moment to feel like a husband, a soon-to-be father, a man who had his shit together.
The manual flipped limply in his hand. Step three: tighten bolts B into side rail C using the wrench provided.
He picked up the wrench, turned it over, and let it clatter back to the floor.
The words meant nothing. The pieces blurred.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, pressing his fingers to his temples. Breathe in. Breathe out.
The door creaked, and Emma leaned in, her smile soft and her eyes warm. “You good in here?”
He looked up, forcing something close to a grin. “Yeah. Just figuring out how many ways I can screw up a crib before the baby even gets here.”
She laughed. The soft, familiar sound that always used to make him feel steady. “You’ll figure it out.”
He nodded and watched her disappear down the hall. He didn’t move. Didn’t touch the tools. Didn’t even open the manual again. He just sat there, staring at the unfinished crib while his pulse dragged heavy in his ears.
He wasn’t thinking about cribs or babies or paint colors. His mind was elsewhere, caught on rough hands gripping his jaw and piercing blue eyes that stripped him bare.
He was fucked.
The worst part was knowing that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to be saved from it.
* * *
That evening was the official kickoff party—one of those glossy, over-budget gestures from the producers, meant to dazzle and make everyone feel important.
The ballroom of a downtown hotel had been dressed up for the occasion.
Strings of golden lights hung from the exposed beams, and waiters drifted through the crowd with trays of champagne.
Later, there would be speeches to mark the night as a milestone.
Behind the building, a manicured garden unfurled around dark stone paths, lit by torches that flickered like something magical.
Emma walked in on his arm. A soft pink dress skimmed her curves and her dark hair was pinned up. Her hand rested gently on her stomach—just over six months along now—carrying a glow that seemed to follow her everywhere. He was glad she came, though a small, selfish part of him wished she hadn’t.
The room buzzed with the kind of chaos only a mixed crowd of actors, producers, and stressed-out department heads could create.
His hand stayed pressed to the small of Emma’s back, but his eyes kept drifting—over shoulders, past champagne flutes, scanning for someone he’d promised himself he wouldn’t look for.
Then Jacob arrived. No spotlight or fanfare, but all of a sudden the room felt different.
He walked in with Caroline at his side, her hand easy on his arm, her smile poised and perfect.
She wore a striking red dress, her lips painted in the same vivid shade.
Liam had never met her, but of course he recognized her from the magazines.
Jacob wore black from collar to shoes; even his tie was black. He managed to look both sexy and dangerous, something Liam was suddenly very aware of. Against all that darkness, his eyes looked impossibly blue. Just what Liam needed—one more thing to obsess over.
Jacob’s gaze moved through the crowd, calculating and assessing, until it landed on him. For a beat Liam felt pinned, heat crawling under his skin. He broke first, eyes dropping, unable to hold the stare.
He distracted himself with introductions, letting Emma meet a string of producers.
The chatter blurred together, words tumbling over each other until he stopped trying to track them.
Someone handed Emma a mocktail, and her easy confidence made her blend in like she belonged there.
He loved that about her. They made sense together. They always had.
At some point she had wandered off by herself and Liam ended up by the bar. He was half-listening to the bartender, one hand wrapped around a drink he didn’t remember ordering, when Jacob took the space beside him.
Liam fumbled for something to say, settling on a weak, “Hey.”
Jacob just nodded, solid and unbothered as he signaled to the bartender.
They stood like that for a moment, the noise of the party wrapping around them.
“She looks happy,” Jacob said after a beat, nodding toward Emma across the room.
“She is.” Liam’s mouth curved. “She thrives on nights like this.”
“I figured.”
“She’s excited about the baby,” Liam added. “I am too. It’s huge, in the best way. I just don’t want to mess it up.”
“You won’t,” Jacob said, no hesitation, like it was fact.
Liam huffed. “You say that like it’s already decided.”
“It is.” Jacob took a sip of his drink, eyes steady. “You care. You’re already in it. That’s half the battle.”
The certainty in his voice caught Liam off guard. “You sound so sure. You’ve got two, right?”
Jacob’s expression shifted, something almost tender pulling at his features. “Yes. Rose and Asher. Some days I don’t know how I ended up with something that good.”
Liam watched him, something warm rising in his chest. “That’s… kind of beautiful.”
Jacob’s voice dropped. “I didn’t grow up with a father who stuck around.
” He hesitated, then added, “He had another kid many years later. Stayed for that one. There was a time I thought it was my fault. Turns out, some people just leave.” He looked up, eyes sharp with conviction.
“I made a promise early on: I’d never be the kind of father he was. ”
Liam’s throat tightened. “You didn’t deserve that. Your kids are lucky to have you.”
Jacob’s jaw worked for a moment before he said, “And your kid will be lucky to have you. The fact that you’re scared? That means you’ll show up. That’s what counts.”
Liam traced the rim of his glass, thinking it over.
The quiet gave way to easier things, and conversation picked up again.
He wasn’t sure how long they stood there—an hour, maybe more—but the time slipped without him noticing.
They talked about everything and nothing: childhoods, why they hated first takes, what they did in their free time.
Jacob stayed a little guarded, but he gave more than Liam had expected.
He found himself laughing and enjoying this moment with him.
For a while, it felt like they were in their own little corner of the world—the party fading to background noise.
Until Emma appeared, her hand slipping into his.
Jacob stepped back like he’d been caught doing something wrong.
The air instantly shifted and the moment dissolved into noise again—the change so sudden it made Liam’s stomach twist.
“Hi there,” Emma said warmly. “We haven’t actually met.”
Jacob straightened. “Jacob Wolfe.”
“Emma.” She offered her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Only bad things, I’m sure.”
“No,” she said with a smile that was all sincerity. “Actually, none of it.”
Jacob gave the faintest nod, his hand dropping back to his side. “That’s generous of him.”
Liam’s throat went tight, watching the exchange like it was happening in slow motion, his brain ping-ponging too fast to land on a single thought, let alone a word he could force out.
Emma glanced between them. “You two looked deep in it. I couldn’t tell if it was work talk or real life.”
Jacob’s jaw shifted. “A bit of both.”
“That’s probably a sign of a good working relationship,” she said easily.
Jacob only nodded.
Liam cleared his throat, trying to ease the static in his head. “We were talking about his kids. Kind of spiraled from there.”
Emma’s expression softened as she turned to Jacob. “You have kids?”
He nodded. “Two.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said, no false note in her voice.
Jacob’s eyes lingered on her. “Yeah. They are.”
Silence pressed in. Not awkward, but not comfortable either. Emma broke it gently. “Well, don’t let me interrupt.”
“You’re not,” Jacob said, already half a step back. “I was just heading over there to check in with Caroline.”
“It was nice to meet you,” Emma added.
Jacob nodded once, and then he was gone—swallowed by the crowd like he’d never been there.
Emma turned to Liam, still smiling. “He’s quieter than I expected.”
Liam’s eyes stayed on the empty space where Jacob had stood. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Not always.”
* * *
An hour later he was drinking more than he should. Emma gave him a look over her glass but said nothing. He knew what that look meant—but still, he didn’t stop.
His gaze had been dragging back to Jacob and Caroline all night. Stupid. He knew it and yet he couldn’t stop himself. Every time he tried, his gaze slipped back anyway. He just hoped he wasn’t too obvious.
He watched Caroline lean in, her hand on Jacob’s chest, her lips close to his ear as she whispered something private.
Jealousy slammed into him—fast and irrational. Sharp enough to make his fingers tighten around the glass.
Fuck.
He looked away and ordered another drink.
“Careful,” Emma said quietly, stepping close. Her voice was calm, but edged. “You’ve had enough. What’s going on? This isn’t like you.”
“I’m fine,” he lied, grabbing the glass anyway.
Behind him, Caroline laughed at something Jacob said. Liam didn’t turn—he didn’t need to. He felt Jacob’s presence anyway, heavy and magnetic, even without his eyes on him.
He tossed back the drink, barely tasting it. His skin itched. The air inside the ballroom pressed heavy, choking him. He kissed Emma’s cheek and murmured, “I need some fresh air, don’t worry about me.”
Before she could answer, he was already moving. He slipped through the press of bodies, breaking free of the lights and music, into the garden.
Away.