I nod, but the words blur around the edges. He goes on about affidavits, character witnesses, possible points to compromise on, but my mind drifts. My leg bounces. I stare down at the faint ink smudge on the corner of the custody petition, the one where Daniel’s name sits in clean, confident print.
He’s married. He’s established. He has a perfect record and a perfectly polished life.
And I’m—well, I’m a librarian with a mortgage, a secondhand car, and a four-year-old who thinks spaghetti can get dizzy. I’m a woman who works hard, who loves harder, but who still lies awake wondering if that’s enough.
The lawyer clears his throat softly. “Ms. Prescott?”
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “I’m listening.”
He offers a patient smile. “I know this is overwhelming. We’ll take it one step at a time. I’ll draft the response to the petition and file before the deadline. In the meantime, don’t engage directly with Mr. McMichael. Let me handle communication.”
I nod again, though the motion feels mechanical.
When the meeting ends, he shakes my hand. “You’re doing right by your daughter, Miss Prescott. Don’t forget that.”
I manage a thank you, though my voice comes out thin.
Downtown Roanoke is by no means a sprawling metropolis, but when I walk outside, it feels too bright, the traffic too loud. I sit in the driver’s seat of my car, staring at my reflection in the rearview mirror.
The woman looking back at me has tired eyes and a brave smile that doesn’t quite stick. And for the first time since all this started, a thought I’ve tried hard to bury slips through—quiet, cruel, honest.
Maybe Daniel’s not wrong about one thing. Maybe Evie deserves more than a mom who’s constantly patching the holes in the life she’s trying to keep together.
She deserves a male role model in her life, someone strong, someone to be an example of the man she should look for later in life, someone who can take her to the father-daughter dance next spring instead of sitting on the sidelines pretending not to cry.
I grip the steering wheel until my fingers ache.
I’ve never felt ashamed of being a single mom. But right now, shame sits heavy in my chest—an ugly mix of exhaustion and fear. Because for the first time, I wonder if love and effort will be enough.
IfI will be enough.
I start the car, blinking fast as the tears blur the view out the windshield.
No matter what happens, I’ll fight for her. Even if I have to fight the part of myself that doubts I can win.
Chapter fourteen
Cam
Laughter drifts in from Knox and Brynn’s kitchen, where Brynn’s trying to wrangle a salad bowl out of Knox’s hands before he eats all the croutons.
“Stop it,” she scolds, swatting his arm. “Those are for the salad, not for your mouth.”
He grins. “I’m quality testing.”
Across the kitchen island, Kinsey snorts into her wine. “Pretty sure that’s what he said about Brynn on the honeymoon.”
“Kinsey!” Brynn yelps, face going scarlet.
Kate laughs so hard she has to lean on the counter for balance, and for a second, the sound fills the entire house.
Evie, perched on a barstool, giggles right along without understanding the joke. “Coach Wells, what’s quality testing?”
Knox chokes on his drink.
I grin. “It’s, uh…when you make sure something’s good before you share it.”
Evie nods solemnly. “So like when I quality test cookies.”
