Page 87 of Off Script

She didn’t speak, because she wanted him to squirm in it. Finally, his voice scraped out. “I’m so sorry.”

Caroline snorted. “Try something else.”

Sorry—what a useless word. Sorry was for forgotten anniversaries, for snapping in traffic, for spilling wine on a rug. Sorry wasn’t big enough for the kind of betrayal that gutted a marriage.

“I told the studio I couldn’t make it to the press meeting today,” he said quietly. “Said it was a family emergency.”

“Bold of you,” she said, gripping the sponge from the sink just to keep her hands busy, “to still use the wordfamily.”

Her words landed like a hit; the wince that cracked across his face was proof of it. Good.

He looked at her fully then, jaw tight, voice broken. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“No?” she said, squeezing the sponge. “Could’ve fooled me, after what you two did.”

Jacob grimaced. “I deserve that.”

“You deserve worse,” she said flatly when he didn’t argue.

Another beat stretched between them before he cleared his throat. “I’ll move out. I’ll have someone find a rental today. I’ll cover everything. The kids won’t feel a thing. I’ll keep it clean.”

That was Jacob in a nutshell. Always ready with a plan—tidying disaster, containing it, and dressing it up so it wouldn’t spread. She used to love that about him, that calm steadiness during storms. Now it just made her sick. She leaned back against the counter with her arms folded. “You’ve already made your choice.”

His gaze lifted, heavy with grief, but there was no uncertainty in it. That absence of doubt was what cut deepest. “You really fucked it all up,” she whispered, her voice catching on the words.

“I swear I wasn’t trying to,” Jacob said. “It just… happened. And once it did—”

Her words finished his. “There was no going back.”

He exhaled like the truth of it drained him. “Yeah.”

The echo of that single syllable rang through her like a bell she wanted to smash. Silence thickened between them again until he broke it. “There’s something I need to ask. I don’t deserve it, but—”

Her stomach twisted. “Of course. Here it comes.”

His eyes locked on hers. For once, he didn’t hide behind the cool restraint that usually carried him through any crisis. He looked raw and exposed. “Don’t say his name.”

Caroline blinked. “Excuse me?”

“To the press,” he clarified. “Or anyone who’ll run with it. Say I cheated. Say I ruined the marriage. I deserve all the blame. Just… leave Liam out of it.”

“You want me to protect him,” she said, disbelief dripping from every word.

Jacob’s voice cracked in a way that startled her. “No. Protect his wife. She’s due in a couple of weeks.”

For a moment, Caroline just stared, and then a wave of disgust washed over her. “Jesus Christ, Jacob. You’re a fucking mess.”

“I know.”

She hated that he looked like he was already punishing himself harder than she ever could.

“And I’m supposed to cover for him?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Cover for her. She doesn’t deserve this. Not with a baby about to come.”

Her jaw tightened until it ached, because he wasn’t wrong. She remembered being pregnant twice. Remembered how fragile it all felt near the end, how you barely held yourself together through the exhaustion and the hormones. The thought of some woman lying in a hospital bed, blindsided by scandal? Caroline might have hated Jacob in this moment, but she wasn’t cruel. Her voice wavered when she spoke. “I won’t say his name, but not for you.”

“I know.”