Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Cam
After dinner, Evie helps clear the table, carrying her plate with both hands like it’s a trophy that she won in a very serious competition. Kate thanks her like she’s just given a world-class performance, and Evie beams, proud and glowing.
When we finally land in the living room, she wedges herself on the couch between us with Matilda in her lap, the TV playing quietly in the background. Some animated movie is on, but none of us are watching it.
Kate sits stiff beside Evie, shoulders pulled a little tight, fingers worrying the hem of her sweater. Her knee bounces every few seconds like it can’t decide whether it wants to bolt or stay.
Nervousness radiates off her so hard I can feel them in my own bones.
I want to reach over and take her hand. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to brace for impact. That I’m not going anywhere. That this—this simple, domestic mess of a moment—isn’t something she has to earn by suffering first.
But Kate’s always been the kind of woman who needs to walk herself to the edge before she’ll let anyone offer a hand. So I stay still and let her lead.
Evie looks up, brown eyes wide and expectant. “Mommy said we needed to talk.”
Kate draws a slow breath like she’s about to lift something heavy. Then she smiles softly. “We do, baby. Just a little talk, okay?”
Evie clutches Matilda tighter. “Am I in trouble?”
“Not at all.” Kate’s voice is calm, but I know her well enough now to hear the effort behind it. “Nothing like that.”
Evie relaxes immediately, like the whole world is fine again as long as she isn’t in trouble. “Okay.”
Kate glances at me, and there’s a question in her eyes. Not a question she wants answered out loud. More like a silent check-in. Are you here? Are you with me? I nod once.
Kate turns back to Evie, smoothing a curl behind her ear. “You know how you and I live here, and sometimes Coach Wells comes over?”
Evie nods. “For dinner. And he helped fix the squeaky door.”
“That’s right.” Kate smiles, then hesitates—just the tiniest pause, like she’s picking her next words from a pile of sharp objects. “How do you feel when he’s here?”
Evie blinks, like she didn’t expect the question. “Good.”
I keep my smile easy, but inside, gears start turning. Kate isn’t just checking on Evie’s feelings. She’s making sure she won’t crack her kid’s heart by shifting something in her world.
Kate leans back, trying to look casual. She’s not good at casual when her heart is on the line. “So if…” she says, voice careful, “Coach Wells was here more often…would that be okay?”
Evie’s brows knit, serious now. “Like…all the time?”
Kate’s gaze flicks to mine, a hint of panic in her eyes.
I don’t move. I didn’t expect Kate to ask these questions. I just thought we would let Evie know I would be ‘around’ or we would be dating. I keep my face neutral because Evie doesn’t need to see anything complicated between the adults.
But inside, I’m suddenly very aware of the way Kate asked the question, like she’s trying to test Evie’s reaction.
Evie thinks for a long moment, chewing her lip. “Would he still go to his house?”
Kate’s voice goes gentler. “Maybe. But maybe he’d be here a lot more.”
Evie looks at me then, eyes wide and earnest. “Would you still be my coach?”
My chest tightens in a way that has nothing to do with baseball. “Always,” I say softly.
Evie considers that, then nods once like she’s accepted an important truth about the universe. “Okay.”
Kate’s shoulders ease just a fraction. Not relief exactly, but more like she’s been holding her breath and doesn’t want to admit she needs air.
Evie looks back to her mom. “Why are we talking about this?”
Kate hesitates, and I can see her trying to decide how much truth a nearly-five-year-old can carry without misunderstanding. So I step in.
“Well,” I say gently, leaning forward a little, “you know how sometimes grown-ups like spending time together? Like friends?”
Evie nods. “Like you and Uncle Knox.”
My mouth twitches. “Yeah. Like me and Knox.”
Evie continues, innocent and matter-of-fact. “And like Mommy and Aunt Kinsey.”
“Exactly,” I say. “But sometimes grown-ups also like each other in a special way. They want to spend more time together. They look out for each other.”
Evie’s eyes go round. “Like in the movies where people kiss?”
Kate makes a choking sound that might be a laugh. “Evie—”
Evie sits up straighter, delighted. “So who’s kissing who?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Nobody’s kissing anybody.”
Kate’s eyes narrow at me, warning.
I add, lightly, “Yet.”
“Cam,” she whispers, sharp and embarrassed, but there’s warmth under it.
Evie giggles. Kate closes her eyes for a second like she’s praying for patience.
I turn back to Evie, keeping my voice even. “What your mom’s saying is…you might see me around more. And we wanted to make sure you’d be okay with that.”
Evie gasps, throwing her arms in the air like she’s just been handed the best news of her life. “Like boyfriend, girlfriend!”
Kate nods slowly. “Yes, sweetheart. Like dating.”
Evie squeals and launches forward, hugging Kate so hard Matilda almost falls to the floor. Then she twists and grabs my arm too, small fingers gripping my sleeve with absolute certainty. “Does that mean you’ll come to my birthday?”
I glance at Kate. Her eyes are shiny. Her mouth presses together like she’s trying not to let her feelings spill out in front of her kid.
“If you want me there,” I tell Evie, “I’ll be there.”
“Good,” she says firmly, as if she’s just finalized the plan. “Because Mommy needs help with the candles. She always lights her hair on fire.”
Kate groans, burying her face in her hand. “One time. It happened one time.”
Evie giggles, then looks between us with a grin so bright it should come with a warning label. “I like this.”
“You do?” I ask.
Evie nods, suddenly serious again in that way kids get when they’re about to say something that cracks you open. “Yeah. You make Mommy smile more.”
Kate’s throat bobs when she swallows. She strokes Evie’s hair, voice careful. “That’s all I want, baby. For you to feel happy and safe.”
Evie snuggles closer, a yawn stretching her mouth wide. “I am.”
Her eyelids flutter, then drop. Within minutes she’s asleep, Matilda wedged under her arm, her head resting against Kate’s side like it belongs there.
The movie keeps playing. The house settles into quiet again. Kate doesn’t move for a long moment. Like she’s afraid if she does, she’ll wake Evie—or herself.
I watch her stare at her daughter’s sleeping face, and I can see the war behind her eyes. The fear. The love. The relentless pressure of doing everything right.
She finally exhales, slow and shaky, and meets my gaze over Evie’s head.
“That went…” she whispers, voice barely there, “better than I thought.”
I nod, keeping my tone low. “Yeah.”
“She’s something special,” I say quietly.
Kate’s mouth trembles into a tired smile. “Yeah. She is.”
We sit for a while, the three of us tangled in the soft glow of lamplight and I realize—I don’t just want to protect this. I want to belong to it.
Evie’s light as a feather when I lift her from the couch. She stirs once, mumbling something about Matilda, then settles again against my shoulder.
Kate walks ahead of me, flipping on the hallway light.
The walls are lined with pictures—Evie at the park, Evie in a princess dress, Evie in a high chair with frosting on her nose with a happy first birthday banner above her.
Every photo tells the same story: one woman doing everything she can to make life good for her child.
I tuck Evie into bed, easing Matilda beside her. She curls instinctively around the stuffed dinosaur, soft snores already starting.
Kate stands in the doorway, arms crossed, watching us with that gentle, protective smile that I love to see.
“She’s out,” I whisper.
“She always crashes after big days,” she says quietly. “Especially when she’s excited.”
I glance down at Evie one more time before straightening. “She’s lucky to have you, Kate.”
Her voice softens. “I’m the lucky one.”
We step out into the hallway, and she flips off the light. The house is dim now, the only glow coming from the kitchen light where the lilacs sit in their vase.
When we reach the front door, she turns to face me, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she says.
“For what?”
“For tonight. For how you handled everything with her. You were…perfect.”
I shake my head. “You made it easy.”
She laughs quietly. “You have no idea how I wondered how we would explain all of this to her. And then you just—” She swallows, her voice going small. “You just made it feel okay.”
I step a little closer, close enough to see the way her pulse flutters at the base of her throat. “It is okay,” I say. “You’re doing everything right, Katie.”
She looks up at me and her dark eyes shine and I swear my heart loses all control. Her eyes seem to search mine, and I can tell she’s conflicted. Her pause isn’t longer than a few seconds, but it feels like it stretches on for an eternity.
Finally, her eyes set on mine, focused as she speaks, “Let’s do it.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “Katie, I never thought I would say this, but I’m not really in the mood to—”
Her eyes go wide, “Oh, no, not that!” She takes a deep breath. “Let’s get married.”
“What?”
“You’re right, it could work…a marriage. So, let’s get married.”
I take a step back. “But we just told Evie we were dating…”
She closes the distance I tried to put in between us. “If tonight was any indicator, I think she would be okay with you being around. We could go to the courthouse, the town would eat it up. Phase two, right?”
I can’t fight my hand moving to her hip. “You’re serious.”
She nods. “Yeah, I am.”
“Okay.”
Her eyes narrow. “Really?”
“Yeah, I’ll marry you.”