Chapter 8 Talia #2
His address leads me into a quiet, expensive neighborhood that smells like trimmed hedges and ambition.
Wide streets. Perfect sidewalks. Houses that look like they belong in architecture magazines instead of real life.
The GPS tells me I’ve arrived, and my stomach drops.
Jake’s house is… beautiful.
It’s modern but warm, clean lines softened by dark wood and oversized windows. The lawn is immaculate. The hedges perfectly trimmed.
Everything about it feels intentional.
Like it belongs to someone who takes care of what’s his.
I grab my tote with the papers inside and step out.
The air is cooler here than at my dad’s place. Or maybe that’s just my nerves.
I walk up the stone path to the front door, trying not to think about the fact that I am about to show up unannounced at the house of the man I drunkenly married and accidentally legally trapped.
Normal Tuesday.
I lift my hand and knock.
Will he even be home?
Footsteps approach almost immediately.
The door swings open.
Jake stands there in gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt that stretches across his chest like it’s under pressure.
His hair is slightly messy, like he’s run his hands through it too many times.
He looks relaxed for exactly half a second.
Then he sees me.
His entire body goes still.
“Talia.”
He doesn’t sound happy to see me.
“Hi,” I say, offering a small smile that feels wildly inappropriate given the circumstances.
He blinks, like he’s making sure I’m not a hallucination. “How did you get here?”
“I drove,” I answer weakly.
His jaw tightens. “That’s not what I meant.”
Yeah.
I know that.
The silence stretches between us.
He glances over my shoulder, like he expects a camera crew to leap out of the bushes at any second.
“You can’t just show up at my house.”
“I know where you live,” I say automatically.
Great.
Now I sound like a creepy stalker.
I clear my throat. “I mean—you gave me your address. For the lawyer. So technically…”
He rubs a hand down his face.
“Can I come in?” I ask more quietly.
He exhales long and hard, like he already regrets whatever decision he’s about to make.
But he steps aside.
I slip past him into the house.
And immediately forget how to breathe.
It’s even nicer inside.
High ceilings. Clean lines. Neutral tones that somehow feel warm instead of sterile. A massive gray sectional. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a backyard that looks professionally landscaped.
The air carries a faint citrus scent—clean, expensive.
I turn slowly, taking it all in. “Wow.”
A soft laugh slips out of me. “I’m impressed.”
He folds his arms across his chest.
Defensive.
Guarded.
“Why are you impressed?” he asks. “It’s a house.”
“It’s a very nice house.”
He shrugs, like it annoys him that I noticed. “I have someone who comes in twice a week. Cleaning. Garden. It’s not that hard to keep things decent when you pay people.”
He rejects the compliment like it’s an insult.
I tilt my head slightly. “It still feels like you.”
His eyes narrow. “What does that mean?”
“Organized. Solid. Everything in its place.”
He looks almost offended by that. “You’re here to analyze my furniture now?”
“No,” I say softly. “I’m just saying… it suits you.”
His jaw flexes again, and for a split second something flickers in his expression. Uncertainty. Maybe even discomfort.
He clears his throat. “Why are you here, Talia?”
My stomach flips. I set my tote down slowly on the floor like I’m handling something fragile.
“I needed to talk to you.”
“You could’ve called.”
I inhale, trying to steady myself. There’s no graceful way to say this.
“I’m here to move in with you.”
The words hit the room like a grenade.
Jake just stares at me.
“…Move in?” he repeats flatly.
“Yes.”
“With me.”
“Yes.”
“In this house.”
I nod, because what else am I supposed to do?
His hands drop to his sides. “Have you completely lost your mind?”
“Before you start freaking out… there’s more.”
“There’s more?” His voice jumps an octave. “Talia, what the hell is going on?”
I bend to pull the papers from my tote before I lose my nerve. The crisp white pages feel heavier than they should.
“I didn’t sign them,” I say.
He freezes.
“What?”
“I didn’t sign the annulment papers.”
His entire body goes rigid, like he’s just taken a hit he didn’t see coming.
“What do you mean you didn’t sign them?” His voice is dangerously calm now.
“I mean… I didn’t sign them.”
“There was a deadline.”
“I know.”
His eyes flash. “You know.”
“I was going to,” I rush. “I just—”
“You just what?”
“I couldn’t.”
The word slips out before I can stop it.
His nostrils flare. “You couldn’t.”
“I needed time.”
“You had time.”
“I know.”
He runs a hand through his hair, pacing once across the living room like he’s on the verge of combusting. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Tell me you mailed them late and this is just some processing delay.”
“I didn’t mail them at all.”
He stops pacing.
Slowly turns toward me.
“And the deadline?”
My voice drops. “It passed.”
For a second there’s nothing.
No movement. No sound.
Then Jake explodes.
“Are you kidding me?” His voice ricochets off the high ceilings. “You let the deadline pass?”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“That wasn’t a suggestion, Talia. It was a legal deadline.”
“I know that!”
“Do you?” he snaps. “Because you showing up here and telling me you want to move in makes it seem like you have only a very slim grasp on reality.”
The words sting more than I expect.
“I’m sorry, Jake. I panicked.”
“So let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “The annulment deadline passed.”
“Yes.”
“We are still legally married.”
“Yes.”
“And your solution is to move into my house.”
“Yes.”
He turns back to me, eyes blazing.
“You’re crazy.”
I lift my chin and meet his gaze.
“We’re married, Jake,” I say quietly. “Whether you like it or not.”
His chest rises sharply.
“And I’m not going back home.”