Knox follows my line of sight and exhales. “Yeah. That’s the look.”
“Don’t analyze the look,” I mutter.
“Well, that look says you’re already thinking about what your Christmas cards should look like.”
I shake my head, smiling because he’s an ass—and because he isn’t wrong.
He nudges my arm. “Just be honest with me. You’re in deeper than you planned.”
I watch Kate beam when Evie connects with the ball—that proud, soft smile that makes me want to kiss her.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I think I am.”
Knox claps my shoulder, not teasing this time. “Feelings, Cam. Are you sure you want this to be temporary?”
“Pretty sure I don’t,” I say quietly.
He grins. “Knew it.”
“Don’t tell Brynn.”
“She already knows.” He starts walking backwards toward the bleachers. “Haddie probably knows too. Hell, she’s probably writing your wedding hashtag.”
I throw a ball at him; he dodges, laughing.
I whistle for the kids and they start running toward me. Evie waves so hard her glove falls off. Kate catches my eye and smiles—small, private, like it’s ours alone.
Knox calls over his shoulder, loud enough for three parents to hear:
“Better get used to it, Wells—that’s your future right there.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I pull on my glove, call out the first drill, and try to pretend the grin on my face is from T-ball.
Chapter twenty-five
Kate
I stand in the kitchen, staring at the coffee maker as it gurgles and hisses. My mom picked Evie up early this morning—before sunrise, before I could overthink it—and took her back to her place for breakfast, cartoons and a “girls’ morning.” She promised to keep her distracted until after lunch.
Which means I have exactly three hours to convince myself I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life.
The clock on the microwave blinks 9:17.
Plenty of time to panic.
I wander into the living room, step over the pile of stuffed animals and coloring books, and pause when I catch sight of thedress laid out on the couch. It’s simple, soft. The kind of thing I could wear to a work meeting or a Sunday brunch.
The kind of thing you’d wear to a rushed courthouse wedding.
I run my fingers over the fabric, heart doing that strange fluttery thing it’s been doing all morning. This isn’t a fairy-tale moment. No veil, no flower arrangements, no swelling music.
Just me and Cam.
And a piece of paper that could change everything.
A knock sounds at the door, and I jump, then exhale a laugh at myself. Of course they’re early.
When I open the door, Brynn is already halfway inside, coffee in one hand, garment bag in the other. Kinsey follows behind her, sunglasses perched on her head and an expression that says she’s already clocked my nerves.
