“Tell me about it,” I say, still smiling.
Then Evie hops down from her chair, holding Matilda out to Cam. “Okay, your turn.”
He blinks. “My turn?”
“Matilda wants you to dance too!”
He chuckles, hands raised. “I don’t know, kiddo. I’m more of a coach than a dancer.”
“Mommy says trying new things is good for you!”
I bite back a grin. “She’s got you there. If I remember correctly, you’re a pretty good dancer.”
He shoots me a look that saysyou’re enjoying this far too much,but when Evie starts clapping and chanting his name, he caves.
“Fine,” he says, shaking his head. “One move. That’s it.”
He does a quick, ridiculous little spin that sends Evie into hysterics. I’m laughing before I can stop myself. When he straightens, our eyes meet again across the kitchen—his expression soft and a little shy beneath the humor.
Damn it, this ‘fake’ thing is going to be hard.
Chapter twenty-two
Cam
After dinner, Evie helps clear the table, carrying her plate with both hands like it’s a trophy that she won in a very serious competition. Kate thanks her like she’s just given a world-class performance, and Evie beams, proud and glowing.
When we finally land in the living room, she wedges herself on the couch between us with Matilda in her lap, the TV playing quietly in the background. Some animated movie is on, but none of us are watching it.
Kate sits stiff beside Evie, shoulders pulled a little tight, fingers worrying the hem of her sweater. Her knee bounces every few seconds like it can’t decide whether it wants to bolt or stay.
Nervousness radiates off her so hard I can feel them in my own bones.
I want to reach over and take her hand. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to brace for impact. That I’m not going anywhere. That this—this simple, domestic mess of a moment—isn’t something she has to earn by suffering first.
But Kate’s always been the kind of woman who needs to walk herself to the edge before she’ll let anyone offer a hand. So I stay still and let her lead.
Evie looks up, brown eyes wide and expectant. “Mommy said we needed to talk.”
Kate draws a slow breath like she’s about to lift something heavy. Then she smiles softly. “We do, baby. Just a little talk, okay?”
Evie clutches Matilda tighter. “Am I in trouble?”
“Not at all.” Kate’s voice is calm, but I know her well enough now to hear the effort behind it. “Nothing like that.”
Evie relaxes immediately, like the whole world is fine again as long as she isn’t in trouble. “Okay.”
Kate glances at me, and there’s a question in her eyes. Not a question she wants answered out loud. More like a silent check-in.Are you here? Are you with me?I nod once.
Kate turns back to Evie, smoothing a curl behind her ear. “You know how you and I live here, and sometimes Coach Wells comes over?”
Evie nods. “For dinner. And he helped fix the squeaky door.”
“That’s right.” Kate smiles, then hesitates—just the tiniest pause, like she’s picking her next words from a pile of sharp objects. “How do you feel when he’s here?”
Evie blinks, like she didn’t expect the question. “Good.”
I keep my smile easy, but inside, gears start turning. Kate isn’t just checking on Evie’s feelings. She’s making sure she won’t crack her kid’s heart by shifting something in her world.
