Chapter 30 #2
“You’re staring at the paper.”
“That is sometimes part of working.”
Theo considers that before returning to his drawing.
“Seems boring.”
“Sometimes it is.”
He goes back to coloring, and I look down at the notes spread across the desk.
I know I cannot keep avoiding the conversation with Julian. What happened between us at the facility made that impossible, and what we learned about those final days in Philadelphia made it necessary.
There is still one truth he does not know.
I have spent years telling myself I kept Theo separate because separation was safer.
California became its own life, far enough away from Blackwell that I could protect what mattered without constantly looking over my shoulder.
That explanation has always been easier to live with when Julian was somewhere else.
Now he is not.
I tell myself I still have time to decide how to handle it. Time to finish the assignment, time to understand what happened between us, and time to choose the right moment instead of letting seven years of history collapse all at once.
The doorbell rings while Theo is still occupied in the back of the townhouse.
I glance toward the hallway before wiping my hands on the front of my jeans and walking toward the entryway. I am not expecting anyone, and for one irrational second I assume it is Emma coming back for something she forgot.
Then I look through the peephole.
My stomach drops.
Julian is standing on the other side of the door.
He is holding my leather work bag.
For several seconds, I do not move.
My heartbeat starts pounding so hard that I can feel it behind my ribs.
Theo is somewhere beyond the kitchen with his project pieces spread across the table, completely unaware that the one person I have spent years keeping separate from this house is standing less than three feet away from the front door.
The bell does not ring again, but Julian is still there.
I glance toward the back of the townhouse.
No movement.
I open the door before another knock can bring Theo running.
Julian looks at me.
I stop.
His eyes move over my face, and suddenly I am painfully aware of the loose knot in my hair, the jeans, the gray sweater, the fact that this is not Sophie Callahan from Vanguard Business Journal standing in front of him.
This is me…at home.
My gaze drops immediately to the bag in his hand. Then back to him.
“Julian?”
“Hi.”
I look past him toward the street before meeting his eyes again.
“What are you doing here?”
He lifts the bag slightly.
“You left this.”
For a moment, I only stare at it.
“I thought they were going to send it.”
“I was already in California.”
My brows rise.
“Northern California.”
“I had business down here.”
Something about the answer makes my pulse climb higher.
“You could have couriered it.”
“I could have.”
Of course he could have.
That means he chose not to.
I reach for the bag quickly, but I do not step outside and I do not open the door any wider than necessary. I position myself squarely in the entrance instead, hoping Julian reads it as impatience rather than what it actually is.
Containment.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome.”
Neither of us moves.
The night at the facility is suddenly everywhere between us again.
His hands.
His mouth.
The things we said before everything between us shattered into something neither of us has named yet.
For one terrible second, I think he is going to bring it up.
Then his eyes shift past me.
My entire body tightens.
His attention lands somewhere behind my shoulder.
I know exactly what he can see without turning around:
Theo’s sneakers are near the entryway.
His backpack is beneath the console table.
The ridiculous water bottle covered in stickers is sticking out of one side pocket. There is a drawing taped beside the kitchen entrance because Theo insisted the pulley design needed to stay where he could keep looking at it.
I look at Julian again.
His expression has changed.
“Sophie?”
I adjust the bag against my hip.
“What?”
His eyes flick briefly toward the sneakers, then the backpack.
“You…have a kid?”
My lips part.
Before I can answer, something clatters deeper inside the townhouse.
I turn immediately.
My heart nearly stops.
Then, Theo’s voice carries toward us.
“Mom?”
I freeze.
No.
Not now.
Please, not now.
I hear his footsteps before I see him.
Then Theo steps into view.
He is holding the half-built model he has been working on all morning, one loose plastic piece turning between his fingers.
I look at Julian.
He is staring at my son.
Everything in his face changes so slowly that I almost convince myself I am imagining it.
His gaze moves over Theo’s hair.
His eyes.
His face.
Then back to me.
I cannot breathe.
Theo studies him with open curiosity, completely unaware of the ground shifting beneath the three of us.
Julian looks at me again.
“You have a son?” he asks.
My grip tightens around the leather bag.
There is no lie left available to me.
“Yes,” I say.
Theo glances toward me.
“Mom, who is he?”
I force my voice to stay steady.
“This is Julian Blackwell. He’s someone I’m working with.”
Theo nods once and looks back at Julian.
Julian does not stop staring at him.
I know exactly what he is seeing.
That knowledge turns cold beneath my skin.
His attention comes back to me.
“How old is he?”
I hesitate.
I should not.
There is no version of this where the answer changes.
But the second feels endless anyway.
Julian’s expression hardens.
“Sophie,” he says, his voice lower now.
Then he asks again.
“How…old…is…he?”
My throat tightens.
“Seven.”
Something leaves his face.
Not anger.
Not yet.
Something deeper.
He looks at Theo again, and I can almost see the calculation happening behind his eyes.
The timeline.
The silence.
The years.
The question forming without him ever saying it.
My stomach twists.
Julian looks at me.
“Sophie.”
I know.
I know exactly what he is asking.
Theo looks between us.
“Mom?”
I turn toward him immediately.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.”
When I look back at Julian, his face is controlled again, but barely.
He does not ask the question.
Not with Theo standing here.
That makes it worse.
Julian holds my gaze.
“We need to talk.”
My chest feels tight enough to crack.
“I know,” I say.
He steps back from the doorway.
I do not stop him.
I cannot.
Julian turns and walks toward the street.
I close the door behind him as the lock catches softly. I stay there with my hand still wrapped around the knob. Behind me, Theo shifts his project from one hand to the other.
“Mom?”
I close my eyes.
Everything I have spent seven years keeping separate has just collided at my front door.