Chapter 155: Hundred and Fifty Five

I don’t think I breathed from the moment I sat down at that café table. My palms were damp against the coffee cup, the condensation wetting my hands as it lay still full on the table.

Jacob was already there, stiff but calm, his hands folded neatly in front of him. Declan sat beside me, his posture straight. With all this shit going on with Emma, I still needed to talk to Jacob and figure out some sort of informal arrangement about Noah.

Jacob spoke first. “We need to talk about custody.”

I cleared my throat, my voice fragile. “Yes. We do.”

Jacob’s eyes moved to Declan. “You’re his biological father. I won’t deny that. But I raised him. I’ve been there for every scraped knee, every nightmare, every first day of school. He calls me Dad. That doesn’t just vanish.”

Declan nodded, though his jaw was tight. “I’m not here to erase you. I don’t want to take anything away from Noah. I just want to be part of his life, openly, fully. Not be on the sidelines.”

Jacob’s gaze flicked between us, his voice steady but heavy. “So what does that look like? Weeks? Weekends? Who makes the decisions for school, for health, for everything?”

The questions hung over us, sharp and practical. Questions that made my chest ache because Noah wasn’t a calendar to be divided, he was my little boy.

But now we were being reduced to do this.

Declan leaned forward. “I want time with him. Real time. Not scraps. But I also know he’s used to living with Willow. I don’t want to disrupt his life overnight.” Declan looked at me, “Of course, at some point, we will move in together. But until then…”

I looked between them, swallowing back the lump in my throat. Jacob looked annoyed by the idea of me living with Declan. But we both knew it was going to happen sooner or later, however Noah wanted to pace it.

I“Maybe… maybe we start small.” I said, “Jacob keeps the weekends. I keep the weekdays, like always. Declan, you… you can start with evenings. Dinners. Homework time. Let him get

used to it slowly. Um, you already do hang out at the house sometimes.”

Jacob’s brow furrowed. “And what about holidays? His birthday?”

My stomach twisted. “We can split them. Half and half. Or… or spend them together if Noah wants that.”

The silence that followed was thick. Jacob stared at me, then at Declan, and for a moment I thought the whole fragile arrangement would collapse. But then Jacob exhaled, rubbing his

temples.

“Fine. Evenings. Some weekends when it makes sense. But one thing is non-negotiable. He knows me as Dad. I don’t want him confused, or feeling like he’s losing me.”

Declan’s eyes softened, though his voice was firm. “I don’t want to replace you, Jacob. I just want him to know me for who I am. Not a friend. Not an ‘uncle.’ His father. He calls you Dad, I know,” Declan’s face twisted, “We can figure out something else for him to call me. At his pace.”

Jacob nodded slowly, the weight of his acceptance settling in the air. For once, he didn’t look angry. He looked tired. Tired, but resolute.

I found myself whispering, “Thank you.”

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t painless. But it was a beginning.

When Noah bounded into the café after, face flushed from running around in the kids’ corner, none of us mentioned the word custody. We just smiled at him, and for a fleeting second, I

believed maybe this could work.

Later, leaving Noah with Jacob for the night was harder than I let on. I kissed him twice, fussed with his jacket until Jacob gently nudged my hand away. Declan stood close behind me, a

steady presence as I waved Noah off, my chest hollow as Jacob’s car pulled away.

“You okay?” Declan asked quietly.

I nodded, though my throat ached. “Not really.”

His hand brushed mine, tentative but grounding. “Come home with me.”

So I did.

The warmth of Declan’s house hit me the second we stepped inside, the faint smell of cedar and coffee lingering in the air. I set my bag down, letting the silence calm me.

And then I saw her.

She was seated elegantly on the couch, legs crossed, posture flawless. Her sleek black dress looked like it belonged in a magazine. When she saw Declan, her face lit up, too bright, too

polished.

Sabrina.

“Declan,” she said warmly, rising to kiss his cheek. “It’s been too long.”

My heart sank.

Declan looked genuinely surprised. “Sabrina? What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“Your mother invited me to stay in the city for a while,” she interrupted smoothly, her smile never faltering. “She thought it would be nice for us to reconnect.” She paused, “Sorry, I still have

the keys you gave me. I let myself in. Did I do something wrong?”

Her eyes slid to me then, sharp behind the softness. Declan hesitated, then cleared his throat. “This is Willow,” he said, not answering her question.

And what kind of question was that? Of course she did something wrong. Wasn’t this trespassing?

Sabrina extended her hand, the picture of graciousness. “Of course. Willow. Declan’s told me so much.”

I shook her hand, my palm clammy. “Nice to meet you,” I managed, though my stomach churned. “Same goes for you.”

Just then, Declan’s phone buzzed. He frowned, muttered, “Sorry, I need to take this,” and stepped into the hallway.

The moment the door clicked shut, Sabrina’s smile shifted. Still polite, that practiced smile you see rich people have. But one you can read right through.

“I have to admit,” she said lightly, tilting her head, “you’re… not what I expected.”

I shifted in my place. She looked me up and down. Me, in my jeans and oversized t shirt. Her, in her expensive dress, her expensive shoes.

I forced myself to stay calm. “What does that mean?”

She shrugged, her eyes cool. “Just that Declan usually surrounds himself with women who…are more refined,” she laughed lightly, casually, as if this was a normal thing to say to

someone. “Well, I just mean, its clear we are not from the same circles! But I guess everyone has preferences. And he has always had a savior complex.”

My chest tightened. Those were Emma’s words. She had said those things to me before. Recently, and even all those years ago. All these same things.

This was a rehearsed attack.

She leaned closer, her voice low, intimate. “Don’t get too comfortable, Willow. Declan’s mother has a very clear idea of what his life should look like. And you’re not in it.”

Before I could reply, Declan returned. Sabrina’s smile snapped back into place, dazzling.

“It was wonderful to see you, Declan,” she said sweetly, brushing his arm with her fingers. “We’ll have to do this again soon. I’ve left your keys on the kitchen counter.”

And then she was gone, her perfume lingering long after the door shut.

Declan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she’d be here. That’s fucking insane for her to just show up.”

I nodded, forcing a small smile I didn’t feel. I didn’t tell him what she’d said. Not yet.

But inside, Emma’s plan was clear as crystal to me - she wasn’t just trying to erase me. She was trying to replace me.