He nods, seeming to be drifting to a faraway time. “I was probably closest to her. Connor would like to think it was Sean, but Mom and I just understood each other. I could be sitting across the room, look over, and I swear she could read my mind.” He looks back to me. “Which wasn’t always a good thing.”
We both laugh. “But she was the glue . . .”
“Yeah, and when she died, it was like everything came undone. My father, our family, the life we had, but my brothers and I, we became impenetrable.”
I’ve seen it happen before. The four of them had to be what their mother was in some way. “I’m not at all glad that you had to endure any of it, but it’s a good thing that you had each other to weather the storm.”
Jacob tries to smile, but I know it’s fake. “We made each other a lot of promises, and one was that we’d never be like our father. For eight years, we lived without ever allowing ourselves the opportunity to break that vow.”
“What do you mean?”
“After the accident, my brothers and I promised to never risk becoming him. No kids, no marriage, control our anger . . . all that.”
“That sounds very noble.”
He laughs. “It was stupid. It also was lonely as hell.”
“Well, I just told you that marriage doesn’t always equal not being lonely.”
“True. This was just . . . punishment.”
I’m fighting back the urge to tell him what I would tell a patient. Jacob doesn’t need that. So, I reach out and take his hand. “Your brothers have all married and are having kids now.”
“They are.”
“But you won’t?”
His eyes meet mine, and I shiver when his thumb rubs the top of my hand. “I can’t. I want to. I would for the right girl, but what I’ve seen Hollywood do to couples? I can’t do that to someone. Not willingly.”
I knew what his answer would be but it doesn’t make it any less thoughtful or brave. He is willing to put aside his own wants and needs to protect others instead of just jumping in and throwing another person to the tabloid wolves. It’s sweet, kind, and I hate it. Being with Jacob has made all of his reasons seem like utter shit to me. Who cares about the tabloids? Who cares what Hollywood, the media, or the world think about us? I don’t. I want him. I am falling in love with him, and that means accepting that life—for him. I’ll take it all if it means I get him too.
That’s just one slice of our problem though because Jacob won’t stay. I won’t leave. There was a part of me that hoped for at least a maybe. A chance that, if I did get my heart entangled, it wouldn’t end in heartbreak. I was being a stupid woman.
“I see.”
Jacob leans forward, extending his other hand. Without pause, I place mine in his. “I would give anything to have met you earlier.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I know I don’t. I’m saying it because I wish it could be different. I wish I could come over, have dinner, and watch a movie before getting to spend time with you after the kids went to bed. It would be you if I could choose someone.”
I clear my throat. “You could choose differently, Jacob. You could try.”
He shakes his head. “To what end? I have to leave.”
“And I have to stay, so I guess being honest is the right thing.”
He looks away. “I don’t think it’s the right thing. It’s just the only option. Being out there, seeing marriages fail more than they succeed, seeing how couples are torn apart by the media . . . how would that be fair to you or your kids? How could I live with myself knowing that I harmed a family? I’d be no better than him.”
He’s doing everything he can not to be like his father, which means keeping his heart free. The sad part is that he’s failing. If he were truly trying to do that, he wouldn’t be here with me tonight or directing Sebastian’s play. Jacob’s arguments are all invalid. Hollywood isn’t destroying marriages—it’s the people in them. I want to tell him all the ways that it could be different for us if he wanted it to be, but I’d be fighting for what? Jacob and I made an agreement. No promises and no questions.
Sure, he makes it hard for me to sleep at night. Yeah, when I’m around him, I want to run into his arms and soak up the strength and comfort he offers. And who cares if, every time I see him, I find yet another thing about him that makes him perfect for me? No matter how much we both want things to be different, they are what they are.
So, I keep my mouth shut.
Sebastian exits the kitchen, and Jacob and I lean away from each other quickly. He looks over with a smirk. “We did the dishes for you.”
My eyes widen, and I plaster a grin on my face, hoping he didn’t see us holding hands. “You did?”
“Yup.”
When Melanie joins us, her shirt is drenched. “I did the dishes. Sebastian flung water.”
“Well, thank you both. The floors probably needed to be mopped.”
“Do you think we could please hang my new mirror after Jacob leaves?” Mel asks.
She’s been asking for a week, but I haven’t had a minute to think. “Of course.”
Sebastian, not willing to squander this chance, jumps in. “Oh! Can we fix the shelf that Papa hung? The books slide off the end.”
“I’ll do my best.”
My father-in-law has started to do things wrong in an effort to get us to stop asking—at least, that’s my theory.
“I can help,” Jacob offers.
“What?”
“I can hang a mirror and fix the shelf.”
“Jacob, that’s sweet, but—”
He lifts his hand. “My handyman skills are limited, but I can do this. You cooked me dinner, so consider it a thank you.”
Melanie looks like she’s about to squeal because, for all the things I can do, hanging pictures is not one. I try, but at some point, whatever I put up, always comes down.
She jumps in. “That would be great. Seriously, I have been asking my gramps, but he’s been hanging everything else because Mom—”
“Mom has been busy,” I try to offer an explanation.
He purses his lips. “I’m sensing a story here.”
“No story.”
Mel laughs. “Nope, not a story, just broken glass.”
“Melanie!” I hiss.
“My mother is amazing at fixing things, but not hanging them.”
I groan. “Children were put on this earth to annoy adults.”
“Dad used to make fun of her because sometimes, in the middle of the night, something would just . . . fall. It was always something she hung.”
“And just for that, now I am going to hang the mirror.”
Jacob chuckles. “So, there’s something you’re not great at?”
“I’m not great at a lot of things.”
He leans in close. “Thankfully, cooking isn’t one of the things you suck at.”
I roll my eyes. “Keep it up and Magnolia will go a rung higher than you in the friendship category.”
“You wound me.” His hands cover his heart as he says it.
“And now I’m doubting your acting skills.”