I hadn’t realized anyone was watching. I hadn’t realized how many moments had been visible—how our quiet shifts toward each other had been seen by half the town.
My eyes sting. It should feel invasive, but instead it makes my heart swell.
“As you can see, Your Honor,” Haddie says brightly, “this relationship didn’t appear overnight. We’ve all watched it unfold naturally, like a Hallmark movie but with a hotter male lead.” The gallery laughs as she winks at Cam. “Cedar Falls knows what real love looks like. And this? Oh, this is it.”
Cam takes my hand under the table. When I look at him, his expression softens—proud, hopeful, fierce in that quiet way he saves just for me.
The judge clears his throat and leans back. “While this is…unconventional, the court will accept the exhibits.”
As the lights flick back on and Haddie struts from the stand like she just won an award, a hum of relief spreads through the room.
That same relief pours over me as well. What Daniel’s lawyer thought would be his secret weapon turned into a love story on a projector screen.
Chapter fifty-seven
Cam
The second Haddie Carmichael steps down from the stand, the room is a living, breathing ball of small-town electricity.
People are whispering, smiling, and nudging each other like they just watched the best show Cedar Falls has seen since the Harvest Parade float caught fire seven years ago.
The judge clears his throat, visibly fighting a smile. “That was…thorough, Ms. Carmichael. Thank you for your contribution.”
Haddie beams like she just won an award. “Always happy to serve, Your Honor.”
As she settles back into the gallery, she waves at Brynn, Kinsey, and Knox like they’re her entourage. Brynn’s biting her lip to keepfrom laughing, Kinsey’s full-on crying, and Knox shakes his head with that look that says, of course this happened.
Beside me, Kate exhales, the tension bleeding out of her shoulders. I can see the moment her spine stops bracing for impact.
The judge glances down at his notes, flipping through the folder like he’s double-checking he didn’t just dream the last ten minutes. “All right. I believe I’ve heard enough from both parties.”
The room quiets instantly.
My pulse hammers. I reach over and find Kate’s hand under the table, curling my fingers through hers.
He adjusts his glasses. “Based on the evidence presented, and after reviewing both testimonies and witness statements, the court finds no reason to alter the existing custody arrangement.” He looks at Daniel. “Evie has a strong support system and is performing well in her current arrangement and school. At this time, I believe it would actually be to her detriment to change her situation, especially introducing a new school and a second home an hour away from her friends and family.”
Kate gasps, her hand tightening in mine.
The judge continues, steady and firm. “Ms. Prescott will retain full custody of her daughter. Mr. McMichael, you will be granted visitation per the court’s schedule. Should circumstances change in the future, you may file a new petition. But as of today, custody remains unchanged.”
The gavel comes down. One clean, decisive crack.
It’s done.
I don’t even realize I’ve stood up until Kate’s arms are around me, her face buried in my chest. She’s shaking, tears soaking my shirt, and I hold her tighter, my hand cradling the back of her head.
“You did it,” I whisper. “You fought for her, Katie. You won.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she breathes.
I pull back just enough to look at her, brushing a tear off her cheek with my thumb. “You’d have done it anyway. I was just there to cheer you on.”
Behind us, the gallery erupts—Brynn crying openly now, Knox clapping me on the back, Kinsey practically cheering before remembering where we are. Even Haddie wipes a tear with her leopard-print handkerchief. Kate’s mom has tears in her eyes as she hugs her, then she tells us she’ll see us in a bit and leaves to pick up Evie.
Daniel’s already on his feet, his lawyer whispering something into his ear. His wife won’t even look at him. He storms out without another word.
Good.
