Jacob leaned back, the chair protesting under his weight. “I would never ask him to leave her. I wouldn’t want to be that man.”
Mason nodded once, then reached for another beer. “But you are the man he keeps coming back to.”
Jacob closed his eyes for a second.
“What are you hoping for, Jacob?”
“I don’t know.” The words came raw and honest. “I can’t let him go, but I don’t want to ruin him. Or her. Or that baby.”
Mason sat with it. “That sounds rough,” he said finally.
Jacob rubbed at his eyes. “It is. I wish I could say I regret it, but I don’t. Not really. That’s the worst part.”
Mason tipped the beer toward him. “So. A man?”
Jacob huffed something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Apparently.”
“That’s new. You ever…?”
“No. Never thought about it.” He paused. “Not until him.”
“And now?”
His chest pulled tight. “Now it’s like I can’t turn it off.”
Mason just absorbed it. “Okay.”
Jacob blinked at him. “That’s it?”
“What else do you want me to say? That it’s weird? That you’re late to the party?” Mason’s expression eased. “You fell for someone. That’s all this is.”
Jacob shook his head. “It doesn’t feel that simple.”
“Of course it isn’t.” Mason’s tone was pragmatic. “You’ve got a family, a name, headlines breathing down your neck. You didn’t get to figure this out in your teens like most people. Now you’re doing it with lawyers and paparazzi.”
Mason pushed his chair back, stretching as he stood. “Let’s watch the game.”
Jacob glanced at him. “Now?”
“Yeah. Why not? You look like you’re circling the drain. Sometimes you need noise in the room, not silence.”
Mason walked into the living room and flicked on the TV, finding the right channel. They sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch, beers in hand, the glow of the screen washing over them. Mason threw in a low curse at a missed play, leaning forward with sudden intensity. Jacob found himself exhaling, the knot in his chest loosening enough to breathe.
Mason didn’t look at him when he spoke: “When this blows up—and it will, one way or another—don’t disappear on me, yeah?”
Jacob’s throat tightened. “I won’t.”
“Good.” Mason took a long drink, eyes on the screen. “If you’re gonna set your life on fire, the least you can do is let someone hold the hose.”
Chapter 39
Liam
He hadn’t thought he would cry. Not because he believed himself above it, but because he couldn’t have imagined a love so pure until they placed her in his arms—small and warm, fists knotted, her face scrunched and furious. Her cry tore through the sterile air as if her lungs belonged to something much larger than her fragile body.
The nurse said her name softly:Nora, short for Eleanor, after Emma’s grandmother. In that moment, something shifted inside him. He didn’t know what it was—only that it had—and he knew with absolute clarity that nothing would ever be the same again.
Emma lay pale against the pillows, damp hair plastered to her forehead. She turned her head toward him, eyes heavy with exhaustion, and whispered, “She’s perfect.”
