Chapter 137: Hundred and Thirty Seven

Things had fallen into a simple rhythm. Noah was slowly getting used to not having Jacob around in the house. They would spend weekends together, and he would often drive him to and from school. I think we were all settling into the rhythm. Declan and I were spending more time together, and he would find ways to speak to Noah. Sometimes on call, or he would drop by the house with treats.

Around two weeks had passed since the zoo outing. I had been too busy at work to plan another one. The deadline for a grant proposal at work was eating me alive, and on top of that, Noah’s school had sent home a bright yellow sheet announcing the Science Fair Extravaganza. He had to build a model on “any natural phenomenon,” and he’d chosen, without hesitation, volcanoes. I had wanted to do something simple and easy but he had seen this on YouTube and now he was insistent on building one.

“Because they explode, Mommy. They have fire,” he had said, eyes blazing with enthusiasm.

I had smiled then, but as I stared at the untouched supplies on the dining table, I felt an increasing sense of annoyance. Cardboard, markers, glue stick. I couldn’t do this right now. Not with my brain pulled in a dozen directions.

Being a single parent was so tiring. If Jacob was here, he would have taken over. But sadly, he was not.

As if hearing my silent prayer, Declan appeared at the doorway, sleeves rolled up, jacket tossed casually over a chair. “You look like you’re about to go twelve rounds with that cardboard,” he teased. He was holding a brown paper bag in his hand. I looked at him, grinning. Before I could, Noah went over to him, wrapping himself around his legs. “Declan!” He screeched. “Did you get more cupcakes?”

“Sure did, bud.” Declan ruffled Noah’s hair, who snatched the paper bag from him. Declan made his way over to me. “You good, dove?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “It’s Noah’s project. Volcano. He’s been bouncing off the walls about it. I just,” I gestured helplessly. “I don’t know when I’m going to find the time.”

Declan tilted his head, then glanced at Noah, who was sprawled on the floor, crayons at the ready, stuffing a strawberry cupcake in his mouth. His smile softened. “I used to love building stuff like this. You mind if I help him out?”

I froze, caught off guard by how easily he offered. My instinct was to say no, to keep boundaries neat and manageable. But Noah’s delighted shout of “Yes! Please, please, Declan!” cut me off.

And so it began.

Within minutes, Declan and Noah were flat on the living room rug, a mess of construction paper, bottles of glue, and scissors scattered around them. Declan was guiding him, showing him how to fold cardboard into a cone, how to cut carefully without shredding the edges. His voice was patient, warm, the same tone I remembered from years ago when he’d once explained the Feldstein-Horeika puzzle to me on the hood of his car.

“Okay, little man,” he said, holding up the half-finished volcano. “What’s a volcano without lava?”

“Boring,” Noah declared, making both of them dissolve into laughter. It made me smile seeing the two of them together.

I leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching. Declan dipped tissue paper into orange paint and handed it to Noah, who gleefully stuffed it into the volcano’s opening. And just like that, the house felt… different. Alive. The air warm, happy, as though something dormant had stirred again. A dormant volcano erupting. But in a good way.

At one point, Declan looked up and caught my gaze. His fingers were streaked with glue, his hair falling into his eyes, but he grinned at me like it was the easiest thing in the world to be here, sprawled on my floor with my son. Our son.

I wanted to freeze the moment, bottle it, because this felt achingly close to home. I wanted this every single day.

“Mommy, come help too!” Noah called.

I crouched beside them, though my hands shook as I took the scissors Declan passed me. Our fingers brushed, lingering a second too long. It wasn’t intentional, but the jolt that ran through me was sharp, undeniable. He must have felt it too, because his smile faltered, eyes darkening before he quickly looked back at the volcano.

We worked until Noah’s yawns grew more dramatic than his yelling. Declan lifted him easily into his arms and carried him upstairs to bed, and I followed with Noah’s paint-stained clothes. When I came back down, Declan was still there, cleaning up the living room with quiet efficiency.

“Thank you,” I said softly, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. “You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” His voice was low, almost rough. Then, with a glance toward the stairs, he added, “He’s… amazing, Willow.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. “He’s really smart.”

And that was the moment Jacob’s key turned in the lock.

He stepped in, looking tired but curious, and his gaze went straight to the dining table, where the volcano sat proudly, its tissue-paper lava spilling down its sides. “Hey, I wanted to get some stuff. What’s this?”

Noah, hearing his voice, came thundering down the stairs in pajamas. “Daddy, look! Declan and I made a volcano!”

I stiffened, waiting for Jacob to say something sour. But he only bent down, inspecting it closely. “That’s… really good, buddy.” His voice wavered slightly, but he ruffled Noah’s hair and smiled.

Declan straightened, his posture cautious but respectful. “He did most of it himself,” he said quietly.

For a long moment, the three of us stood there, orbiting the small volcano on the table like it was the most fragile object in the room. It should have felt unbearable, awkward beyond measure, but it didn’t. Not exactly. Instead, there was a strange, delicate balance, an unspoken agreement not to ruin Noah’s joy.

“Can we make it explode tomorrow?” Noah asked, practically vibrating with excitement.

Jacob chuckled. “We’ll see.” He glanced at me then, something resigned but gentle in his expression.

Declan cleared his throat. “I should get going.” He gave Noah a high-five, then nodded at Jacob. “Good night.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me standing between my son and my ex, staring at a paper volcano that suddenly felt like the most symbolic creation in the world.