Then she was gone, the trailer door closing with a muted thud.
Chapter 15
Liam
Emma hadn’t spoken to him all day. She’d told him she needed space, time to think, and Liam had given it to her. Now she was in the living room, damp hair curling at her shoulders, her arms crossed over her chest like a shield. Her eyes were dry now, but the faint redness around them gave her away.
He hovered on the edge of the couch, his knees bouncing and his hands clamped together. He felt like a schoolboy waiting outside the principal’s office to be told just how badly he’d screwed up. Only he wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a grown man who had let the entire fucking world watch something he hadn’t even fully admitted to himself.
Emma took a seat next to him. “I can’t do this. I can’t sit here, carrying your child, while the whole world watches you kiss him like nothing else exists. Likewedon’t exist.”
His head snapped up. “It wasn’t like that.”
She gave a short, humorless laugh. “Wasn’t it? Because from where I was sitting—and from where everyone else was sitting—it looked like the moment they called cut, you kissed him harder.”
Liam stood before he thought better of it, restless energy driving him to pace the room. “It wasn’t planned. We didn’t know someone was secretly filming. It just—” He broke off. Hismind kept skipping ahead to places he didn’t want to go, and he had to yank himself back before he lost his train of thought completely. “It got out of control.”
Her eyes locked on his and held him there. “Yeah. It did.”
The quiet that followed pressed in thick and suffocating.
“I’m your wife, Liam.” Her voice didn’t shake. “And when I watched that video, I didn’t feel like it.”
He moved toward her, kneeling by her feet, his hands flexing at his sides like he wasn’t sure if he could touch her. “Emma, I’m not asking you to understand this,” he said, words rushing faster than his brain could keep up. “I don’t even understand it. That kiss…” He exhaled. “Yeah, I got carried away. There’s chemistry. But that doesn’t mean—”
He stopped. Because he didn’t know what it didn’t mean. He didn’t know what the hell it meant at all.
When he looked at her again, her eyes were swimming with unshed tears, and the fear behind them made his chest tighten.
“I love you,” he said quickly. “We’re having a baby. You’re my wife. That hasn’t changed.”
Emma let out a breath like she’d been holding it for hours. When she spoke, her voice cracked for the first time. “I need you. I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to.”
The words knocked the wind out of him. He reached for her without thinking, pulling her into his arms. She clung to him instantly, fingers digging in like he was the only solid thing left. Maybe he was. Maybe this moment—her body against his, her need wrapped tight around him—was the only thing that still made sense. He held her so tightly it hurt.
“You’re not losing me,” he whispered into her hair. “I love you. I love you so much.” He said it again and again, a prayer of desperation. Like maybe if he repeated it enough, it would become true in every part of him.
They talked for a while in low voices, quiet words smoothing over the cracks. He told her she didn’t need to worry, that he wasn’t going anywhere. She believed him and even smiled once—small and tired, but real—and something in his chest eased at the sight.
When she finally went to bed, he stayed by her side, stroking her hair until her breathing slowed and she drifted off to sleep.
He wanted to hold on to that peace, but when the room fell still, his mind wouldn’t follow. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed like a man trying to pray, but too guilty to find the words. There was only the restless ache of not knowing who he was anymore.
He’d said the right things. He told her he loved her, and he meant it, but the words didn’t quite bridge the space between thought and truth. Something lived in that gap—a shadow, a ghost, a name etched too deep under his skin to ignore.
His brain wouldn’t quiet. The hum of the air-conditioning, the tick of the clock, the thin strip of light cutting across the floor—his mind kept catching on everything at once. His eyes landed on his phone, and he picked it up. Dozens of unread messages and alerts filled his screen. He scrolled past all of them until he reached the one thread he shouldn’t be looking for.
Jacob.
He stared at it, thumb hovering, pulse hammering. He typed with no edits, without second thoughts, just the truth that burned too sharp to swallow.
Me:What the hell are we doing?
The message sat there, delivered but unanswered. No typing bubble, no response. Some questions didn’t have answers, certainly not ones Jacob would give.
Liam exhaled slowly and set the phone down. He stretched out on the bed beside Emma, the mattress dipping under hisweight. He told her he loved her, held her while she cried, and promised her she wasn’t losing him. And still, he texted Jacob.
He dragged a hand down his face, disgust settling deep in his gut. The guilt didn’t crash in waves anymore. It sat heavy and constant, sour as rot. He hated himself for what he’d done.
