Kinsey’s eyes widen instantly. “Oh my God, are you pregnant?”
Levi nearly aspirates a pretzel. Knox mutters a quiet Jesus. Brynn places a calming hand over Kinsey’s mouth, though it does nothing to stop the energy now vibrating through the room.
Cam sits forward, hands clasped, calm in a way that makes me want to lean into him forever. “Sorry to disappoint, Kinsey, but no, not pregnant.”
“We’re in love.”
No one moves. Even the stupid dog token looks like it’s frozen in anticipation.
I take a breath. “This isn’t just for the custody case anymore,” I say, voice softer now, almost shy. “Somewhere between lawyers and bedtime stories and trying to figure out who we are together…things stopped feeling like an agreement.”
Cam turns to me and when he speaks, his voice holds nothing but truth. “We fell in love.”
The room breaks open.
Kinsey screams first, launching herself across the carpet like a caffeinated koala. “I knew this would happen, you beautiful fools!”
Levi grabs her by the back of her sweatshirt and pulls her off me while she kicks like a toddler. “Give the woman oxygen, Kinsey. Good God.”
Brynn stands and wraps me in a hug. She presses her cheek to mine and whispers, “I’m so happy for you, Kate. I love this for you and Evie.”
Knox claps Cam on the back like he’s proud and amused in equal measure. “Happy for you, man.”
For the next thirty minutes, the room is a hurricane of questions and celebration. Everyone wants the story. We’re drilled about when it flipped, who confessed first, whether Haddie Carmichael knows (she doesn’t, and we are living on borrowed time). Kinsey threatens to design a bridal jumpsuit. Brynn volunteers to officiate and Levi immediately vetoes. Knox says he’ll stand wherever we need him. And through it all, Cam is beside me, knee pressed to mine, hand on my thigh, expression soft.
When the game finally resumes, nobody remembers whose turn it is. No one cares. We trade stories, laugh too loud, and pass the M&Ms until the wine tells us to break out the brownies.
Hours later, when the last goodbye is said and the door finally clicks shut, the house falls into quiet again. We sit on the couch, looking at the coffee table where Monopoly lays abandoned.
Cam rests his arm behind me, fingertips brushing my shoulder. “Our friends are crazy, but I love them,” he says.
I lean into him, letting my head fall to where his heartbeat waits steady under my cheek.
“Same. I thought Kinsey was going to take me out there for a minute.” I laugh. “But it felt good.”
His lips brush my temple. Gentle first, then surer when I don’t pull away. “Good is too small a word for this,” he says against my skin.
I tilt my face toward him, eyes meeting his. “It is isn’t it?”
He answers, not with words, but by curling his hand around the back of my neck and guiding my mouth to his. The kiss unfolds slowly, and as his thumb sweeps under my jaw, something inside me loosens, like a knot pulled free.
He matches my pace. His other hand slides over my waist, not demanding, just memorizing the shape of my hips beneath his fingertips. “Kate,” he whispers, and I feel it in my bones. “I want you.”
There is no hesitation left in me. “Take me to bed, Cam.”
He rises slowly, one hand still at the nape of my neck. When I stand with him, my chest grazes his, and the small contact charges the air between us.
He walks me toward the bedroom, kissing me between steps—small, lingering kisses that make the hallway feel longer and shorter at the same time. By the time we cross the threshold, my fingers are curled lightly in his shirt, pulling him with me. Once we’re through the door, he brushes my hair behind my ear, slow enough to make my knees threaten mutiny.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, Katie.” His dark eyes scan my face before kissing my shoulder. “I want to taste every inch of your skin. Then, you’re going to lie on your back, spread your perfect legs and you’re going to come on my tongue.” His voice is deep enough to pin me in place. “Lastly, I want to slide into you and fuck you so slow and deep that you lose your mind and beg me to let you come again.”
All I can do is nod as his mouth finds mine as his hands slide down my ribs, thumbs pressing lightly under my breasts, and it steals a sound from me I didn’t know I could make. He lifts my shirt, discarding it to the floor. We both fumble with the buttons of our pants. My fingers pull at the hem of his shirt and he lets me lift it over his head, muscles flexing under my palms.
God. He’s beautiful.
He cups my jaw, walks me backward until the backs of my knees touch the mattress. Then he lowers me down slowly, gaze never leaving mine.
His hands smooth over my stomach, up my sides, to the clasp of my bra. “Can I?” he asks.
