Chapter 44
Liam
The mug between his palms had gone cold, whatever heat it held long gone. He sat at the kitchen table, staring at the pale streaks of morning light slanting through the blinds.
He’d slipped into bed beside Emma late last night, lying stiff next to her, listening to her breathe—the steady rise and fall of her chest that used to mean home.
He hadn’t touched her and she hadn’t turned; their silence louder than any fight.
He’d stared at the ceiling until dawn, dreading what the morning would bring.
The nanny had taken Nora out for a walk not long ago. He’d asked for some privacy, offering no explanation beyond needing time with Emma.
He heard her coming down the stairs, each step soft and unhurried.
She came into the kitchen in her robe, her hair damp from a quick shower and her skin bare of makeup.
He hated himself for not loving her the way she deserved.
She paused when she saw him sitting there, her hand tightening on the belt of her robe.
Liam lifted his gaze, his voice rough when he spoke. "It’s time we had that talk."
She crossed to the counter, poured herself a coffee, and sat opposite him. Silence stretched long enough that his chest hurt with it. When she finally spoke, her voice was smaller than he expected. “So this is the part where you say it’s over?”
His heart clenched hard. God. She already knows. “Emma…”
She gave a laugh that broke halfway, jagged around the edges. “Don’t lie, Liam. I’ve known for a while something’s been wrong. I just didn’t know when you’d finally admit it.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Her voice cracked. “You are hurting me. You’ve been hurting me for months. With every cold shoulder and half-answer. Every night you got into bed and felt like a stranger.”
He looked down in shame. “I tried. I really did.”
Her eyes glossed. “But you’re not in this anymore. Are you?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m so sorry, Emma.”
Her gaze dropped to her coffee, knuckles white around the mug. Her next words were barely audible. “Is there someone else?”
“Yes,” he said, guilt curling hot in his chest. The lying was over.
Emma turned her head, blinking fast. Her mouth trembled, lips pressed hard like she was holding something back. “Who is it?”
His chest constricted. He wanted to protect her, even now, but she would find out eventually. “Emma—”
“Just tell me,” she whispered.
He didn’t try to spin it or soften the blow. “Jacob.”
Her head jerked, like the name landed physically. For a second, she just stared at him, then she let out a shocked laugh—not amused, just incredulous. “Of course. God. Of course. I’m so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” he said immediately, hating the way the word had passed her lips. Hating that he had put it there at all.
Her voice broke on the next question. “How long?”
He dragged a hand down his face. “It started while we were filming. I ended it three months ago, when Nora was born. I thought I could cut it off—”
"But you couldn’t."
"No."
She nodded sharply, before pushing to her feet like she couldn’t stand to be near him another second. She crossed to the far side of the kitchen, arms locked around herself.
"You started filming over eight months ago. You’ve been lying to me all this time?"
"I’m so sorry, Emma. I swear I didn’t want to hurt you."
"That doesn’t make it better. You tore everything apart, and I’m the one who has to live with it."
“I know.” He stood up too. “I kept hoping that I could make it work, that if I just tried harder it might click back into place. For you. For Nora. But I—”
“Don’t.” Her voice fractured. “Don’t stand there and talk about hope like it’s noble. You were cheating on me. You were building a second life behind my back.”
The words ripped through him. He had no defense, just a hollow ache and the painful truth. “You’re right, there’s no excuse.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes quickly, furious at herself for crying. "I gave you our daughter,” she whispered.
"And I’ll never stop being grateful for that. I’ll be there for her. Every part of her life. I swear it.”
She shook her head, tears streaking down unchecked. “You think that makes this okay?”
“No. Nothing makes this okay. But it’s the truth.”
She looked at him like she didn’t recognize him. “God. I thought I had more time. I thought you were just lost. That maybe you’d come back.”
"I’m so sorry."
Her voice broke low. “I won’t beg someone to stay who’s already gone. There’s nothing left to fight for, Liam. You made sure of that.”
Tears burned his eyes. “You should never have to beg.”
She looked at him, fighting to keep her composure. “I hate you right now. I don’t even want to look at you, but I won’t keep you away from Nora. She deserves a father and I won’t take that from her.”
He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “Thank you.”
Emma turned away, bracing herself against the counter, shoulders trembling. “I need time. I need space. Please leave.”
It took everything in him not to cross the room and wrap his arms around her.
He wanted to fall on his knees and beg for her to scream, to do anything but stand there breaking quietly.
But he couldn’t fix this; he was the problem.
The only thing he could do was turn and leave her alone with her grief.
The sound of her broken cries followed him out—an echo he knew he’d carry with him for the rest of his life.
* * *
The drive to Jacob’s house felt longer than it was. The world outside was a jumble of turns and lights, none of it sticking. He only remembered standing on Jacob’s doorstep for what felt like an eternity before he finally rang the bell.
When the door opened, Jacob’s eyes softened the moment they found him.
Liam fiddled with the strap of his bag. “Can I stay here?”
Jacob stepped aside, voice gentle. “Always.”
Inside, the house was quiet. Plain walls, clean lines, morning light sliding across the floorboards—nothing remarkable, nothing that should have mattered.
Yet the second Liam stepped inside, his chest loosened and his shoulders dropped.
It wasn’t the house that made him feel this way; it was Jacob.
He was the reason this place felt safe, somewhere Liam could finally let his guard down and just be.
The moment he let that truth in, everything inside him gave way.
His shoulders hunched over and his breath fractured. Jacob was instantly there, pulling him in without hesitation. Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him together as he broke apart. He buried his face in Jacob’s shoulder, the sobs tearing out of him, soaking Jacob’s shirt completely.
“I did it,” he choked out, the words muffled against Jacob’s neck. “It’s over.”
Jacob crushed him closer, his palm dragging firm and slow circles over his back. The grip wasn’t gentle—it was unshakable. A hold that said Liam could break as hard as he needed to, and Jacob would always be there to catch him, no matter what.
He cried until his chest hurt and his sobs dulled into hiccups.
When the worst of it passed, Jacob guided him to the couch and eased him down.
He slipped away for a moment, then returned with a glass of water, pressing it gently into Liam’s hands before kneeling beside him, waiting until he drank every drop.
Jacob set the empty glass aside and settled close, letting Liam lean into the solid warmth of his shoulder. He felt bone-tired and hollowed out, eyes swollen and heavy with the last of his tears.
“I hate what I did to her,” he whispered. “She didn’t deserve any of it.”
Jacob’s arm came around him, firm and grounding. “I know.”
He let himself nestle into him, cheek pressed against Jacob’s chest. The ache in his heart didn’t vanish, but it shifted, dulled by the weight of being held. For the first time in months, he wasn’t pretending or lying; he could simply exist, nothing left between them but the truth.
Liam’s breath began to ease, his eyelids growing heavy as exhaustion pulled at him.
Jacob’s chest rose and fell beneath his cheek, and Liam knew with absolute clarity that he’d made the right choice.
Jacob was his anchor in the storm, his safe place in the world, and he would fight through anything to reach this moment again.
* * *
He woke up on the couch, a blanket draped over him. His head felt heavy and his body worn, but the weight pressing down on him wasn’t so sharp anymore. He sat up slowly, the fabric sliding from his shoulders as he let his eyes adjust to the light spilling across the room.
The house was hushed except for the faint clatter from the kitchen. For a moment he just sat there, listening, the smell of something cooking threading through the air. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this feeling—the sense of being home.
He pushed to his feet, the blanket sliding off him as he made his way toward the kitchen. Jacob was there, sleeves shoved to his forearms, standing at the stove like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. His broad shoulders moved with the same controlled precision he carried everywhere else.
Liam stopped in the doorway, watching him, something inside him locking into place.
This was it, the one place he was always meant to land.
The path here had been jagged and cruel, leaving people hurt in its wake, but none of it changed the truth—he was always meant to end up here with this gruff, stubborn, heartbreakingly beautiful man.
Jacob turned, catching him staring. “You’re awake.”
“Yeah.” Liam’s voice was quieter than he meant. “Smells good.”
Jacob shrugged, turning back to the stove. “You need to eat.”