Chapter 45
Chapter forty-five
Kate
I’m sitting across from my lawyer, trying not to chew my thumbnail like I’m back in high school, waiting for a grade I already know isn’t good. His office is bright and sterile—white walls, framed diplomas, a fake plant that’s trying too hard. None of it helps the tight knot twisting in my stomach.
He places a file on the desk, his expression carefully neutral. “Kate…we need to talk.”
My pulse drops straight into my feet. “What happened?”
He slides the paperwork toward me. The legal jargon blurs until a few words punch through clearly enough to steal my breath.
Motion to bypass mediation. Request for expedited hearing.
“Expedited?” My voice wobbles. “Why would they skip mediation?”
“They’re arguing it would be unproductive,” he says, leaning back slightly. “That the two of you are too far apart to reach a compromise.” He taps a highlighted section. “They’re tying it to the start of the school year.”
My jaw tightens. “Evie’s four.”
“I know.” His voice stays gentle. “But they’re framing it as a need for stability before the year begins.”
“And the judge?” I already know the answer, but I ask anyway.
“In a small town,” he says carefully, “certain names move things along faster. The request was granted.”
The room tilts.
“So what does this actually mean?” I ask.
“It means we skip mediation entirely,” he says. “This goes straight to a hearing. Testimony. Evidence. Witnesses. No buffer.” He meets my eyes. “We’re looking at two to four weeks. The judge wants a ruling before school starts.”
Two to four weeks.
Four weeks to defend the life Evie and I have built from the ground up.
My hands shake in my lap. I curl my fingers into my palms to hide it.
He watches me for a moment, then leans forward. “This doesn’t mean you’re losing. You’ve been her primary parent her entire life. You provide consistency, structure, and love. That matters.”
I nod, even though my throat feels too tight to speak.
“But,” he continues, choosing his words carefully, “we also need to be mindful of how your day-to-day life appears from the outside. Judges don’t just rule on facts. They rule on impressions.”
That word follows me out of the office.
The drive home barely registers. Trees blur into streaks of green, and even when I pull into my driveway, my heart is still racing. I sit there longer than necessary, hands clenched around the steering wheel, breathing like I’ve just run a mile.
My phone buzzes in the console, Cam’s name lighting up the screen.
For a moment, I don’t pick it up. Not because I don’t want to talk to him—but because if I do, I might fall apart, and I’m not sure I can put myself back together yet.
Because I already know what Daniel is doing.
He’s rewriting his absence. Dressing it up in legal language and clean timelines. Turning five years of silence into something that looks responsible on paper. And I hate that it might work.
The thought sits heavy in my chest.
I grab my phone and text him.
Kate:
Are you home?
Cam:
Yeah. Everything okay?
Kate:
Can you come over? I need to talk.
Cam:
On my way.
The knock comes less than ten minutes later.
I’ve been pacing the kitchen—past the sink, the counter, the fridge—like movement might keep me from unraveling. The papers from the lawyer’s office are still spread across the table, bold black letters blurring every time I glance at them.
When I open the door, Cam’s standing there in a navy T-shirt and jeans, eyes already scanning my face.
“What happened?” he asks.
I step back to let him in. “It’s bad.”
He closes the door behind him and turns to face me fully. “Tell me.”
“They moved the hearing up,” I say. The words come out thin, stretched tight. “Four weeks.”
His expression hardens. “How?”
“They bypassed mediation.”
“Can they do that?”
“They already did.” I press my hands to the counter, grounding myself. “They’re arguing Evie needs stability before the school year starts.”
Cam swears under his breath. “What does your lawyer think?”
“That it’s going to be a full hearing. Witnesses. A judge.” My voice cracks. “No mediator. No easing into it. Just…everything on display.”
I gesture around the kitchen—at the stack of mail, the half-finished laundry, Evie’s drawings taped to the fridge. “They’re going to look at my whole life and decide if it’s enough.”
He steps closer. “It is enough.”
"Not to them," I say quietly, my chest tightening. "They won't see the nights I stayed up with her when she was sick, or the mornings I held it together when I didn't think I could. They'll just see what fits on paper."
“Then make sure your lawyer focuses on those things,” he says firmly.
I shake my head, tears finally spilling. “I’m sorry. I just feel really worried right now.”
Cam closes the distance, his hands settling on the counter on either side of me. “I know you are, and it’s good you’re getting it out. But I know we can work with your lawyer to make sure they see the mother that you are, see how hard you work for Evie.”
I swallow hard. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to win this.”
His voice stays calm. “Then we figure it out together.”
Cam smiles and gives me a moment to collect myself. When I look into his eyes, I feel the words creeping up on me. This is a partnership. This is him continuing to show up for me, but allow me to work through things myself.
It’s terrifying and wonderful all at once. And I know it’s time to tell him how I feel.