Chapter 97: Ninety Seven

I spent the whole day with a knot in my stomach. Every email I typed, every phone call I answered at work, I could feel the weight of the evening pressing down on me. Tonight, I was going to tell Jacob the truth. Or at least most of it.

I arranged for Noah to stay the night with Ashley. She didn’t ask many questions, just smiled knowingly when I said Jacob and I needed some time together. I packed Noah’s overnight bag with careful hands, lingering over his small t-shirts and favorite toy car. Watching him run off into Ashley’s apartment without looking back made my throat tighten. He was my anchor, the one thing that kept me grounded when everything else felt like it was unraveling.

Back at our apartment, I decided I couldn’t face Jacob with takeout cartons between us. If I was going to confess, I wanted it to be in the intimacy of a home-cooked meal, something warm and familiar. I set water to boil for pasta, chopped garlic and onions until my eyes stung, and simmered the tomato sauce until the kitchen filled with the scent of basil and oregano. I even opened a bottle of wine we’d been saving. It all felt strangely ceremonial, as though I was preparing for both an ending and a beginning.

When Jacob walked through the door, his shoulders slumped from the day, I felt a wave of tenderness for him. He smiled when he saw the table set, the candles lit. “Wow,” he said, hanging his jacket on the hook. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just… us,” I said softly. “I thought we could use some time together.”

He kissed my forehead, warm and familiar. For a brief moment, I almost convinced myself not to ruin it. To let the night pass in this fragile bubble of comfort. But the lie rose in my chest until it hurt like a heart attack.

Over dinner, we talked about small things; the storm that had hit last week, his new project at work, how Noah had insisted on wearing mismatched socks that morning. I laughed when Jacob imitated Noah’s stubborn little frown. The easy rhythm of our conversation made it harder to derail.

But I had to.

Halfway through the second glass of wine, I set down my fork. My hands were shaking under the table. “Jacob,” I began, my voice thin. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He looked up immediately, concern flashing in his eyes. “What is it?”

I drew in a shaky breath. “I’ve been keeping something from you. And I can’t anymore. It’s not fair.”

His jaw tensed. He didn’t say anything, just waited.

“You remember a few months ago, when I told you I ran into someone at the store?” I started. “That was Declan. He… he’s working with us now. As a consultant for the NGO.”

The fork in his hand stilled. His eyes darkened, and I felt the air shift. “Declan,” he repeated slowly. “Declan Ashwell?”

I nodded, my throat dry.

“You’ve been working with him this whole time and you didn’t tell me?”

“I wanted to. I almost did, so many times. But I was afraid of how you’d react. I didn’t want to upset you when it was just… work.”

“Just work?” His voice rose, sharp. I saw his fist clench. “You kept it from me for weeks. That doesn’t sound like just work, Willow. That sounds like something you didn’t want me to know.”

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I forced myself to stay steady. “I didn’t tell you because I knew this would be a problem. But nothing happened. Not…” My voice caught. I had to tread carefully. “Nothing inappropriate. He’s just been around for the summer.”

Jacob pushed back from the table, pacing the kitchen. He ran his hands through his hair in agitation. “Why now? Why tell me tonight?”

“Because I couldn’t keep lying to you,” I said quietly. “It’s been eating me alive. You deserve the truth.”

He stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing. “Does he know? About Noah?”

The question landed like a rock on my chest. I thought about that motel room, the phone call, Declan’s question. I had lied then. I couldn’t lie now.

“No,” I admitted softly. “He doesn’t know.”

Jacob let out a bitter laugh. “Are you going to tell him?”

“No,” I said quickly, desperate. “He knows Noah exists. But he doesn’t know everything. But nothing else. And it doesn’t matter. You’re the one raising Noah with me. You’re his father in every way that matters.”

Jacob’s face twisted, hurt radiating off him in waves. “Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how this sounds? You’ve been hiding him, lying to me, letting him back into your life like none of what happened before matters.”

“Jacob,” I pleaded, getting up, walking to him. I touched his arm lightly. “Please. Nothing has changed between us. You’re the one I come home to. You’re the one who’s been there for me and for Noah. I love you. I chose you.”

But he didn’t take my hand. His eyes searched mine, raw and angry and so full of pain it broke me. “Did you, Willow? Did you really choose me, or am I just the safe option you settled for while your heart still belongs to him?”

The question sliced through me because I didn’t know how to answer it. Not honestly.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” I whispered. “I just want us to be okay. I told you because I don’t want there to be secrets between us.”

Jacob stared at me for a long time. Then he shook his head, pushing his chair back with a scrape. “I need space,” he said, his voice low and shaking. “I can’t look at you right now. I don’t even know what’s real anymore.”

“Jacob…” My voice broke.

But he was already pulling his jacket off the hook. He didn’t slam the door when he left. That almost made it worse. The quiet click of the lock echoed louder than any fight we’d ever had.

I stood there in the middle of the kitchen, the half eaten pasta cooling on the plates, the candles flickering down to nothing.

I had told him almost everything. But the one thing I hadn’t confessed, the one thing that mattered, it stayed in the back of my mind, floating, getting heavier by the second.

And now, I wasn’t sure what would happen when Jacob finally came back.