Night, Katie.
I set the phone down beside me and close my eyes. The kitchen can wait until morning.
Chapter nine
Kate
We should’ve had dinner an hour ago, but I got caught up with collections at the library. When I pick up Evie, her thoughts are immediately on food. “Mommy,” she says, hopping out of her booster seat, “can we make spaghetti tonight? I’ll stir the noodles.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
I drop my work tote by the door and hang her backpack on the hook. She kicks off her sneakers, missing the rug entirely.
“Close enough,” I say.
She giggles and runs straight for the kitchen, dragging a chair across the floor to the counter. I set a pot of water on the stove, half-listening as she hums a made-up song about spaghetti and butterflies.
For a few precious minutes, everything feels normal—simple, quiet. Evie waves a wooden spoon like a baton. “Do you think spaghetti gets dizzy when we stir it?”
“Spaghetti doesn’t have a brain, so probably not,” I say, handing her the box of noodles.
She beams. “It’s gonna be delicious.”
I’m stirring the pasta when a knock sounds at the front door.
Evie freezes mid-song. “Is it pizza?”
“No, sweetie.” My brows knit. “We didn’t order anything.”
She hops down from her chair and trails after me.
The knocking comes again—firmer this time.
When I open the door, a man in a navy windbreaker stands there, holding an envelope. He’s not from around here; the polite smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Katherine Prescott?”
“Yes?”
He hands me the envelope. “You’ve been served, ma’am. Have a good evening.”
My stomach drops. The paper feels too heavy in my hands.
“Mommy?” Evie tugs at my sleeve. “What’s that?”
I swallow hard, forcing a calm smile. “Nothing you need to worry about, baby. Go wash your hands, okay? Dinner’s almost ready.”
She nods and runs back toward the kitchen, humming again—blissfully unaware of the way my heart is suddenly trying to claw its way out of my chest.
I close the door and lean against it for a second, staring down at the envelope. My fingers tremble as I tear it open.
Petition for Modification of Custody
The words blur.
Petitioner:Daniel McMichael
Respondent:Katherine Prescott
