Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Kate
I stand at the stove, sipping coffee and watching steam curl upward, trying to gather myself into something resembling a person who slept. If someone asked, I’d say it’s an ordinary morning—cereal bowls waiting, library books stacked by the door, Evie snoring down the hall.
Except nothing feels ordinary. Not after last night.
If the fact that I agreed to marry Cam didn’t short-circuit my brain, the way he tucked my daughter into bed would cause it to implode like a dying star.
I’ve never let a man this close to us. Not in routines, not in bedtime rituals, not in the space where motherhood and vulnerability blur. And seeing it is overwhelming. Terrifying. Beautiful. It makes me feel everything I said I’d never risk feeling again.
In those early years, when Evie was tiny and I was lonelier than I’d admit to anyone, I used to picture this exact scene—a man who shows up, who doesn’t run from responsibility, who cares about her simply because she exists and deserves to be adored.
I used to cry at night hoping God might have that planned for us.
And now I get to see it play out in real time knowing it could be a complete facade. And that makes me want to cry all over again.
If this ends, it could break me.
But right now, in this sliver of morning, I let myself lean into it. Let myself feel the possibility instead of the fear. Let myself want him, even if wanting it will hurt later.
A knock rattles the door. Mom. Of course. The one morning I’m spiraling after a kiss.
I pull the door open to find her holding a tote bag in one hand and a Tupperware container in the other. Her hair is wind-tousled, her lipstick perfect, like she’s been awake for hours.
“Morning, honey,” she says, stepping inside before I even invite her.
“Morning,” I answer, though it comes out more like a sigh. “You really didn’t have to bring food.”
She sets the muffins on the counter, giving me a look that says she absolutely did. “Please. If I leave you unsupervised, you’ll have coffee for breakfast and call it nutrition.”
She’s not wrong.
She scans the room, sharp as ever. “Where’s my girl?”
“Sleeping. Summer has turned her into a hibernating bear.”
Mom smiles—that soft, fond one she reserves for Evie—but her eyes return to me in a way that makes my shoulders stiffen. “You look…bright,” she says, slowly. “Fresh. Like someone who had company.”
I nearly choke on a breath. “Mom.”
“What?” she asks, innocent only in tone. “I saw Haddie’s post.” She puts a hand on her hip. “And you said that little incident at Knox and Brynn’s wedding was just a one-time thing.”
My face burns. “Mom, I don’t want to talk about incidents.”
She waves a hand. “Well, obviously, it wasn’t a one-time thing and if you’re going to have fun with a man, Cam seems like the perfect candidate.”
I press my palms to the counter. “I’m glad you approve.”
She steps closer, voice lowered but still annoyingly pleased. “So…rumors aside…” she nudges, “is there truth there? Is there something happening with Cam?”
I inhale quietly, weighing how much to tell her. “That depends,” I say, careful. “On what we’re calling happening.”
Mom’s eyes soften. She reads between lines better than anyone I know.
“Why do I feel like you’re bottling something up?” She brushes my hair away from my face. “We haven’t had a good talk in a while.”
I exhale. “Mom, a lot has happened.” I look down at my coffee. “And not just with Cam.”
“Sweetheart,” she murmurs, “you can tell me anything. I’ve survived your teenage angst, your college heartbreak, and that phase where you only wore combat boots with sundresses. I think I can handle this.”
I stare at my coffee a moment longer, pulse thrumming. “Okay,” I exhale. “But you have to promise not to freak out.”
She smiles. “Katherine Prescott, I never freak out,” she says. “I react with feeling.”
“That’s literally the same thing.”
“Semantics,” she says, waving it off. “Now spill.”
I tell her everything.
It comes out in pieces, like I’m peeling back layers. The custody papers. The lawyer. Cam’s idea. How it somehow turned into dinner last night, and Evie’s big curious eyes asking what it all means. And then the big news—that we’re going to get married.
By the time I’m done, Mom’s sitting at the table with her muffin untouched, just studying me—steady, quiet, present.
“So,” I say softly, fingers twisting in my lap. “That’s everything.”
She reaches for me without hesitation, warm hand closing around mine. “Sweetheart, you should’ve told me about the papers sooner.” Her voice is gentle, no judgment, just a mother’s knowing ache. “I may not be a lawyer, but I know how to listen. You don’t have to white-knuckle everything alone.”
My throat tightens. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
She pulls me into her arms, and the moment I melt against her, something inside me wobblers.
No matter how grown you are, there’s something about a mother’s hug that makes the armor slip.
She strokes my hair, voice quiet in my ear.
“You are strong—stronger than you know—but strength isn’t the same as isolation.
Letting people help isn't a weakness, Kate. It’s connection. ”
I nod into her shoulder, breathing through the sting behind my eyes.
Then she leans back with a sigh, eyes sparkling with something dangerously close to amusement. “So. You and Cam. That’ll give Cedar Falls something to talk about for the next ten years.”
I scrub at my face. “Just promise you won’t believe everything you see on Haddie’s Facebook. Even the pictures.”
She snorts. “Honey, if Haddie posts it, privacy is already a lost cause.” But she sobers, fingertips tapping thoughtfully against her mug. “Cam is a good man. I like him. But I want you to be sure you’re not stepping into this because you’re scared.”
I sit, facing her. “It’s not only fear. It could help the case. And Evie already cares about him.”
Mom’s brow arches. “Evie would commit her heart to a stick in the yard if you told her it was kind.” But her smile softens, gentling at the edges. “Is he kind to you?”
The question lands somewhere tender. “He’s more than kind. He’s…solid. Present. I feel like I can lean on him when it feels like everything’s collapsing.”
“Sounds pretty perfect if you ask me.” She sits back, eyes warm but sharp with recognition. “And you like him?”
I don’t reply immediately. The truth sits there between us, bright and terrifying. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that. Liking him isn’t part of the plan.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, squeezing my hand. “The best things never go according to plan.”
I stare at our fingers, her thumb brushing mine like she used to when I was little and scared of thunder. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Yes, you do.” Her voice is soft but sure. “You’re doing what you’ve always done—protecting your girl. The only difference is, this time, maybe you don’t have to do it alone.”
From the hallway, a groggy voice cracks the quiet. “Mommy?”
Evie appears in her dinosaur pajamas, hair sticking out in every direction, eyes half-open.
Mom lights up. “There’s my sunshine!”
Evie blinks. “Grandma, you’re early.”
“I wanted muffins for breakfast.”
Evie gasps, suddenly wide awake. “The cinnamon ones?”
“The very ones,” Mom confirms with solemn gravity.
Evie climbs into her lap, and the two of them tear into breakfast as if the world is simple and soft and not full of custody papers and complicated feelings.
My default mode for when I don’t want to think about feelings is to go straight to work.
The library’s air-conditioned chill greets me as I unlock the front doors, the familiar scent of paper and lemon cleaner wrapping around me like a reset button.
I turn on the circulation desk computer, check the return bin, and start reshelving books in the kids’ section.
Halfway through putting The Magic Tree House series back in order, I hear the front door creak open.
“Library opens in ten,” I call out.
“Good thing I know the librarian.”
I turn just as Kinsey strides in, a to-go cup from Penny’s in each hand. “Thought you might need caffeine.”
“You’re a saint.” I sigh, taking the cup. “Also, how did you get in?”
She jingles a familiar silver key. “Emergency book club privileges. Don’t ask too many questions.”
Of course.
She hops up onto one of the reading tables like she owns the place. “Alright, Prescott. Spill. I heard through the very reliable grapevine that Coach Wells was at your house last night.”
I blink. “It’s nine a.m. How fast does news travel in this town?”
“Sweetheart, Haddie Carmichael could give the CIA lessons.” Kinsey grins. “So? Is it true?”
I sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yes. He came over for dinner.”
Her jaw drops. “Dinner? At your house? You cooked for him?”
“Don’t sound so shocked. It was just meatloaf.”
“I’m not shocked. I’m impressed. You break out the meatloaf for a man, that’s serious business.”
“It’s not like that,” I say quickly.
She raises an eyebrow. “You sure? Because rumor has it, he left looking very…content. Did he give you a serving of his meatloaf?”
My cheeks heat instantly. “Kinsey!” I can’t help but laugh. “That is the worst joke you’ve come up with yet.”
She laughs, sipping her coffee. “Relax, I’m kidding. Mostly. But seriously, you’ve got that post-kiss glow happening, so don’t even try to deny it.”
I turn back to the shelves, pretending to be fascinated by Junie B. Jones. “We’re just…figuring things out.”
“Figuring things out,” she repeats slowly. “Is that what the kids are calling it now?”
I shoot her a look over my shoulder. “You’re insufferable.”
“Maybe. But I’m also your best friend, which means I get to say this: You look happy, Kate.”
I pause, a book still in my hand. “I don’t know if happy’s the right word. There’s a lot to be unhappy about right now.”
“Okay,” she says softly. “Then maybe you look like you feel okay through the chaos?”
That stops me. I set the book down and exhale. “Yeah. Maybe that.”
She smiles, all teasing gone now. “Then stop overthinking it. You’ve been in survival mode for so long, you forgot what it feels like to just…breathe. Let someone help carry the weight for once.”
My throat tightens. “You’ve been talking to my mom.”
Kinsey grins. “She might’ve texted me a few choice words about her glowing daughter. Said you were on the verge of being sensible.”
“Oh God.”
She slides off the table, squeezing my shoulder. “I mean it, Kate. You deserve good things. Even if they come with a little small-town gossip attached.”
I close my eyes, bracing for impact. “I agreed to marry him.”
I open one eye and see Kinsey about to spontaneously combust. “You what?”
“We’re going to just do a quiet little something at the courthouse. Get our license. He’ll stay at my place.” I exhale, hearing myself say it all out loud sounds insane.
“Kate, I know this is just a farce, but this is huge.”
“It’s just for the time being.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “Mmmmhmmm.”
I shrug. “We talked it over last night after I agreed to it. We have clear lines drawn and a plan in place.”
She grins. “Clear lines that include mind-blowing sex?”
“Kinsey!” I whisper yell, glancing around to see if anyone could hear us. “That’s just a…benefit.”
She shakes her head. “You’re funny.” She glances at the clock on the wall. “Fuck, I have to go into work. We are not done here.”
“There isn’t much more to talk about, honestly, Kinsey.”
Before I can answer, she’s already heading for the door. “Keep telling yourself that, Prescott. Also, for the record,” she calls over her shoulder, “if Coach Wells ever wants to join our book club, I’d approve the application on sight if he’s in his coach’s uniform.”
“Kinsey!”
She keeps walking, a peace sign thrown in the air as the door closes behind her.