Chapter 52
Chapter fifty-two
Kate
I barely make it three steps into Kinsey’s apartment before Brynn grabs my hand.
“Oh my God,” she breathes, already dragging me toward the window like natural light might make this moment more official. “Kate.”
Kinsey, already perched on the arm of the couch like she’s been waiting for this exact second, leans forward. “Okay, let me see it on you.”
I lift my left hand, a little shy. The ring catches the light—soft, vintage, warm in a way that still makes my chest ache every time I look at it.
Brynn gasps. “That is…that is perfect. That is a Kate Prescott ring.”
Kinsey nods immediately, satisfaction written all over her face. “Told him. I literally told him that one was it.”
“You did,” I say, smiling.
Brynn presses a hand to her chest. “I’m going to cry. I knew he’d get it right, but wow.”
“I think it looks like it’s lived a couple of lives,” I say softly. “Cam said that’s why he chose it.”
Kinsey grins. “I’m happy you love it. He was so nervous.’”
Before either of them can say more, Evie pops up from the couch, climbing to her feet with Matilda tucked under her arm.
“I have something too!” she announces.
She shoves her wrist toward Brynn, the little silver bracelet sliding down her arm, the star charm flashing.
Brynn’s expression melts instantly. “Oh my God. Evie.”
Kinsey crouches down, smiling wide. “That one was non-negotiable,” she says proudly. “He picked it out himself.”
Evie nods seriously. “It’s my family bracelet.”
Brynn touches it gently. “That’s really special, sweetheart.”
Evie beams. “Cam said I’m part of the team.”
Kinsey looks up at me, eyes shiny. “When he picked out that bracelet is when I almost lost it in the jewelry store.”
My throat tightens before I can stop it. Evie plops back onto the couch, perfectly content, already reaching for her juice box as if she didn’t just emotionally undo three grown women.
Kinsey straightens and points at my ring. “For the record? It looks even better on your hand than it did in the box.”
Brynn nods. “I think we all knew Cam had it in him.”
I glance down at the ring, then back up at them. “He amazes me sometimes.”
Kinsey tosses a blanket onto the couch for Evie, who settles in with her stuffed dinosaur and a juice box, wholly absorbed as the opening credits of Moana flash across the screen.
Evie doesn’t even look up when Kinsey leans over the back of the couch and whispers, “If you need anything, scream. Preferably at a pitch that won’t shatter my windows.”
“Kinsey,” I groan.
“What?” she says, hands raised. “Your child has the vocal range of a fire alarm.”
Brynn laughs as she sets a tray of iced coffees on the coffee table. “She gets that from her mom. Kate once took out my eardrums in middle school when she shrieked because a grasshopper landed on her big toe.”
I lift my chin. “It was a very aggressive grasshopper.”
“It was an inch long,” Brynn fires back.
“It had an agenda.”
Kinsey snorts. “God, I missed this.”
I didn’t realize how much I needed this—my friends, a safe place, the kind of easy laughter that knocks the tension loose in my shoulders—until now.
It’s been a heavy week, but the second I sit on Kinsey’s couch between the two of them, I feel myself soften a little, like their presence gives me permission to actually exhale.
Brynn nudges me gently. “Okay, something’s up. Spill.”
I pick at the sleeve of my cardigan. “Daniel came by last week.”
Kinsey stops mid-sip. “I’m sorry—what?”
I glance at Evie to make sure she’s still absorbed by the movie. Matilda is tucked under her arm, her eyes wide as Moana sails across the screen. Good. She doesn’t need to hear any of this.
I turn back to the girls. “He came by the house. Wanted to see Evie. Said his lawyer told him to ‘appear involved.’”
Brynn’s lips press into a thin line. “So this is why police were called out to Daniel’s house.”
I give her the side-eye. “You’re as bad as Haddie with how you stalk that Facebook page.”
She shrugs. “I just like to stay current with town events.”
Kinsey mutters something that absolutely cannot be repeated in polite company. “Please tell me you slammed the door in Daniel’s face.”
“I told him to leave,” I say quietly. “And he did. Eventually. But he…he pushed every old button. Every bruise I thought I’d healed. He made me feel so small.”
Brynn shifts closer until her knee presses against mine. “You’re not small. Ever.”
Kinsey nods, eyes sharp now. “Kate, he’s trying to intimidate you. It’s textbook. But you have something he doesn’t.”
“What? Anxiety and a mortgage?”
She flicks my knee. “Support. People who actually show up. A community that sees you as more than a last name with influence.”
My throat tightens again, but this time it’s a warm ache instead of the cold sting Daniel left behind. “I know.”
Kinsey taps her nails against her cup. “Also, for the record? Cameron Wells adores you. He’s a protector. You can see it every time he looks at you. It’s gross.”
“It is not gross,” Brynn argues.
“It’s kinda gross,” Kinsey insists. “Gross in a good way. Like I’m happy for you yet slightly nauseous because you’re that perfect together.”
I laugh, wiping at the corner of my eye. “God, I needed this.”
“You need more than this,” Brynn says gently. “You need rest. And love. And someone who isn’t afraid to stand up to Daniel when it counts.”
Kinsey points at her. “Enter: Cam Wells.”
“Kinsey,” I hiss, even as I smile.
She shrugs. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
I can’t. Because she isn’t.
I sink back into the couch, letting the warmth of them settle into my bones. “I think I’m just…still getting used to it. Letting someone be there and letting someone care for us without waiting for the catch.”
“That’s because the last guy you dated was human cardboard,” Kinsey says bluntly.
“Yeah, he wasn’t the greatest,” Brynn adds.
I choke on my coffee. “Okay, both of you stop.”
Evie looks over, curls bouncing. “Mom? Why are you laughing so loud?”
“Because Aunt Brynn and Aunt Kinsey are being silly,” I say.
Kinsey points her straw at her. “We are hilarious, thank you very much.”
Evie grins and turns back to the movie.
Brynn leans close again, voice gentle. “You’re doing the right thing, Kate. For you. For Evie.”
My chest feels full in a way that still surprises me. “I think so too.”
Kinsey bumps her shoulder against mine. “Just remember—we’re here for you. You’ve got us. You’ve got Cam. And Evie has so many people in her corner she practically needs bleachers.”
I swallow hard, emotion thick and warm. “Thank you. Both of you.”
Brynn wraps an arm around me. “Always.”
Kinsey throws her legs over mine dramatically, nearly knocking over her coffee. “And if Daniel ever shows up again, I’ll choke him with my old rugby jersey.”
I sink back, smiling while they trade jabs, grateful for a moment where the world feels light again.
The call comes later that night, just as I’m packing up the last of Evie’s art supplies from the kitchen table.
I almost don’t answer it. My phone buzzes once, twice, my lawyer’s name lighting up the screen like a warning flare. For a second, I just stare at it, my stomach tightening with that familiar dread that’s been living under my ribs since all of this started.
I answer anyway.
“Mrs. Wells,” he says, voice careful. “I wanted to give you a heads-up on a new development.”
My fingers curl around the edge of the counter. “Okay.”
He pauses. “Daniel’s attorney has raised concerns about the validity of your marriage.”
“Validity?” I repeat.
“They’re arguing that the timing suggests it was entered into for fraudulent reasons,” he explains. “Specifically, to influence the custody outcome.”
My throat goes dry. “They’re saying it’s fake?”
“I wouldn’t use that word,” he says gently. “But yes—they’re implying it’s performative. That it exists on paper but not in practice.”
I stare at the fridge, at Evie’s drawings held up with alphabet magnets. A crooked heart. A stick-figure family with too many arms.
“We’re legally married.”
“And that’s our position,” he agrees. “But they’ve requested documentation. Proof of cohabitation. Witness testimony that supports the relationship being genuine.”
I let out a slow breath, my chest tight. “So now I have to prove that my marriage is real.”
“Kate,” he says carefully, “this doesn’t mean they’ll succeed. It means they’re trying to shake the foundation. Create doubt.”
Of course they are.
“You should tell Mr. Wells. This will likely come up during the hearing.”
The anger begins to rise up in me. Daniel has tried from every angle to pull the rug out from under me. And this time, it isn’t just legal—it’s personal.
We hang up a moment later, and I dial Cam.