Updated Apr 8, 2026 • ~10 min read
Chapter 7: The Confession
Sienna
Sienna should not be here.
She KNOWS she should not be here.
But here she is anyway, standing outside Jace’s front door with a bottle of wine and a heart full of terrible decisions.
It’s been a week since she found out. A week of avoiding him—cancelled dates, vague texts, “family emergencies” that were really just panic attacks in her car.
A week of watching Harper in class and feeling like the WORST person alive.
A week of lying awake at night, torn between doing the right thing (ending it, telling him the truth, walking away) and doing the SELFISH thing (pretending just a little longer that this can work).
And then last night, he texted: *I miss you. Please. Just dinner. My place. Let me cook for you.*
And she said yes.
Because she’s WEAK. Because she misses him too. Because she’s fallen in love with him and she doesn’t know how to let go.
The door opens before she can knock.
Jace stands there in jeans and a navy henley, barefoot, hair slightly messed like he’s been running his hands through it, and Sienna’s heart STUTTERS.
“Hi,” he says, and his smile is so WARM. So genuine.
“Hi.”
“You came.”
“I said I would.”
“I know. But I wasn’t sure you meant it.”
Guilt twists in her stomach. She’s been flaky all week—canceling, rescheduling, being distant. He has every right to doubt her.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “For being weird. For avoiding you.”
“Is everything okay? With your family?”
The lie. The stupid, necessary lie.
“It’s… complicated. But I’m dealing with it.”
“Okay.” He steps aside. “Come in. Please.”
She walks into his house, and it’s WARM. Lived-in. There are architectural sketches on the coffee table. A kid’s backpack by the stairs. Photos on the mantel—Jace and Harper at the beach, Harper as a baby, a beautiful woman with dark hair who must be Meredith.
This is his LIFE. His home. And she’s intruding on it with her lies.
“Harper’s at a sleepover,” Jace says, closing the door behind her. “So it’s just us tonight.”
Just them.
No buffer. No interruptions.
Sienna’s hands are shaking. She sets the wine down on the counter before she drops it.
“What are we making?” she asks, forcing brightness into her voice.
“Pasta. From scratch. I hope you’re ready to work.”
“I can handle pasta.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He grins, and for a moment, the tension eases. This is THEM. The easy banter. The comfort.
She can pretend for one night. Just one.
🔥
They cook together, and it’s PERFECT.
Jace shows her how to make the dough—flour, eggs, olive oil, salt. She gets flour on her nose. He laughs and wipes it off with his thumb, and the touch lingers just a little too long.
They roll out the pasta. Drink wine. Talk about everything and nothing.
He tells her about a project that’s been driving him crazy—a client who keeps changing their mind about EVERYTHING. She tells him about the kid who brought a lizard to class and accidentally let it loose during math.
It’s EASY. Like it always is with him.
And Sienna tries not to think about the fact that she’s sitting in the kitchen of her student’s father, drinking wine and falling deeper in love with a man she has to let go.
“Sienna,” Jace says after a while, and his voice is softer now. Serious.
“Yeah?”
“Are we okay? You and me?”
She freezes. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been distant. Canceling plans. I just… I need to know if this is still what you want. Because if it’s not—”
“It IS,” she interrupts. Too fast. Too desperate. “I want this. I want YOU.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I—” She sets down her wine glass. “I need to tell you something.”
“Okay.”
She opens her mouth. The words are RIGHT THERE.
*I’m Harper’s teacher. I’ve known for a week. We can’t do this.*
But before she can say anything, Jace crosses the space between them and kisses her.
And oh.
OH.
It’s not like the brief kiss at their wedding. This is REAL. Deep. Desperate.
His hands cup her face, and she melts into him, every thought scattering like dust.
She should stop this. Should push him away. Should TELL him.
But instead, she kisses him back.
Her hands fist in his shirt. His arms wrap around her waist, pulling her closer. She tastes wine and want and TWO WEEKS of restraint finally breaking.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the coffee shop,” he murmurs against her mouth.
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I was trying to be a gentleman.”
“Stop being a gentleman.”
He laughs—this low, rough sound—and kisses her again. Deeper this time. Hotter.
They stumble backward. Her back hits the counter. His hands slide into her hair, and she makes a sound that’s half gasp, half moan.
This is WRONG. So wrong. But it feels so RIGHT.
“Jace—” she breathes when they finally break apart.
“Yeah?”
“I need to tell you—”
“Later,” he says, kissing her jaw, her neck, the sensitive spot behind her ear that makes her knees WEAK. “Please. Whatever it is, we can talk later. Right now I just… I just need this.”
And Sienna is WEAK. So weak.
“Okay,” she whispers. “Later.”
🔥
They end up on the couch.
The pasta is forgotten. The wine is abandoned. It’s just THEM—tangled together, hands everywhere, mouths desperate and searching.
Sienna has never felt like THIS. Never wanted someone so badly it HURTS.
Jace’s hands are careful despite the urgency. He keeps checking—”Is this okay?” “Too much?”—and it makes her want to cry because he’s so GOOD. So respectful.
And she’s lying to him.
“I’m falling for you,” he says against her mouth. “I know it’s fast. I know I said I wanted to take this slow. But I can’t help it. I’m falling.”
Her chest ACHES. “Me too.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Good.” He pulls back just enough to look at her, and his eyes are so BLUE. So full of feeling. “Because I don’t want to do this halfway. I want all of you, Sienna. If you’ll have me.”
She should say no. Should end this NOW before it gets worse.
But instead: “I want that too.”
“Good.”
He kisses her again, softer this time. Tender.
And Sienna thinks: *I’m going to hell.*
But if this is hell, at least it feels like heaven first.
🔥
They finally eat around nine PM, sitting on the floor with plates of pasta and the rest of the wine.
“This is really good,” Sienna says, twirling pasta on her fork.
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. You’re annoyingly competent at everything.”
“Not everything. I can’t draw. Or sing. Or keep houseplants alive.”
“The houseplant thing is relatable.”
They eat in comfortable silence for a while. Then Jace asks: “So what did you need to tell me? Earlier?”
Sienna’s stomach DROPS.
Right. The thing she was supposed to confess before he kissed her and she lost all semblance of self-control.
“It’s… complicated,” she says.
“Most important things are.”
“I just—I need you to know that I’m not trying to hide things from you. There’s just… there’s something I need to figure out before I can explain it properly.”
He frowns. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s not. I promise. I just need a little more time.”
“Okay.” He reaches over and takes her hand. “But Sienna, whatever it is, we can handle it together. You know that, right?”
Tears prick at her eyes. She blinks them back. “I know.”
“Good.”
He squeezes her hand, and Sienna wants to SCREAM.
Because they CAN’T handle this together. This isn’t the kind of problem that gets solved with communication and teamwork. This is the kind of problem that ends relationships.
But she doesn’t say any of that.
Instead, she changes the subject. “What are you doing Thursday night?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“There’s a thing at Harper’s school. Back-to-School Night. Parents come, meet the teachers, see the classrooms.”
His expression shifts. Surprise. “You want to come with me?”
No. NO. That’s the OPPOSITE of what she should want.
But she needs to tell him. Face to face. Before he finds out on his own.
And Back-to-School Night is perfect. He’ll be there anyway. She can pull him aside. Confess. End this before it destroys them both.
“Yeah,” she hears herself say. “If that’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay. I’d love that.” He grins. “Harper will be thrilled. She’s been dying to meet you.”
Sienna’s heart BREAKS.
Harper. Sweet, smart, funny Harper who writes about wanting her dad to be happy.
Harper who has NO IDEA that her favorite teacher is dating her dad.
“I can’t wait to meet her too,” Sienna lies.
Because she’s already met her. Sees her every day. Knows her favorite book (Percy Jackson), her best subject (creative writing), her biggest fear (disappointing her dad).
Thursday night, everything is going to EXPLODE.
But until then, she has three more days of pretending.
Three more days of THIS.
🔥
Jace walks her to her car around eleven.
The night air is cool, late September starting to hint at autumn. Sienna leans against her driver’s side door, and Jace steps close, hands on her waist.
“Thank you for tonight,” he says.
“Thank you for cooking. And for being patient with me.”
“Always.” He kisses her forehead. “See you Thursday?”
“Thursday.”
“I’ll text you the details.”
“Okay.”
He kisses her again—slow and sweet and full of promise—and Sienna feels like she’s DROWNING.
“Goodnight, Jace.”
“Goodnight, Sienna.”
She gets in her car and drives away, and the tears don’t start until she’s two blocks from his house.
By the time she gets home, she’s full-on sobbing.
Maya finds her curled up on the couch, mascara everywhere, clutching a throw pillow like it’s a life raft.
“What happened?” Maya asks, alarmed.
“I’m in love with him,” Sienna chokes out.
“That’s… good?”
“He’s Harper’s DAD.”
“Harper—wait. Your STUDENT Harper?”
“YES.”
“Oh SHIT.”
“I KNOW.”
Maya sits down and pulls Sienna into a hug. “Okay. Okay. We’ll figure this out.”
“There’s nothing TO figure out. I have to end it.”
“Did you tell him?”
“I tried. But then he kissed me and I… I couldn’t.”
“Sienna—”
“I know! I KNOW. I’m the worst person alive.”
“You’re not the worst person alive. You’re just… human.”
“I have to tell him Thursday. At Back-to-School Night.”
“You’re going to tell him AT HIS DAUGHTER’S SCHOOL?”
“I don’t have a choice! He’ll be there anyway. And if I wait any longer—” She breaks off, fresh tears spilling over. “I love him, Maya. And I have to let him go.”
Maya holds her tighter. “I’m so sorry, babe.”
“Me too.”
Sienna cries until there are no tears left. And then she goes to bed and stares at the ceiling, counting down the hours until Thursday.
Until everything falls apart.
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