Kinsey leans in, her voice softening in a way most people never hear. “You’re not screwing anything up by caring about someone. That’s not scary—that’s growth.”
I blink at her. “When did you becomewise?”
“I’ve always been wise,” she says. “You just ignore it when it’s inconvenient.”
I laugh, and she smirks like she’s collecting points for correctness.
“You like him,” she presses.
“I do.”
“And he likes you.”
“He does.”
“Oh, please, you two don’t just like each other.” She waves me off. “Cam goes to the library on his lunch break even when he doesn’t have books to return. The man stands there pretending to read historical fiction while watching you shelve returns like it’s his new religion.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “He does not.”
“Kate,” she says flatly. “He does. I’ve seen it. The entire town has seen it. Connie Thatcher’s aunt said she’d put money on you getting pregnant by Christmas.”
I groan. “Wonderful.”
“Oh, it is. But seriously,” she continues, nudging my water glass with her finger. “What’s the actual hesitation? And don’t give me the excuse—I want the truth.”
I take a slow breath. “I think he’s in it for the long haul. But it still feels risky, ya know? And it’s not just the thought of him leaving, it’s the thought of being vulnerable. I think somewhere along the way, I forgot how to let someone love me.”
Her expression shifts. “We’ve all been hurt in the past, and Lord knows, you’ve seen the worst of it. But needing someone doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. And not everyone leaves. That man loves you and Evie. You’re a lucky woman, Kate.”
The server returns with our food, breaking the moment. Kinsey steals a fry from my plate before her own is even settled and points it at me like it’s an extension of her argument.
“Have the talk,” she says. “You’re ready, even if you think you aren’t. And he’s definitely ready. The man looks at you like you alphabetically shelved his soul.”
“Kinsey.” I laugh.
“You know I’m right.”
I pick up my sandwich, trying to hide the smile tugging at my mouth. She notices anyway.
We eat, sliding back into familiar teasing and stories about Gordy’s regulars. She tells me about a college guy who tried to impress her by ordering “the strongest drink you’ve got,” only to cry halfway through it. I laugh so hard I nearly choke.
When we finally leave Penny’s, the air outside feels lighter. Or maybe I do.
Kinsey bumps her shoulder against mine as we walk toward our cars. “Go talk to him,” she says. “You won’t regret it.”
Chapter forty-five
Kate
I’m sitting across from my lawyer, trying not to chew my thumbnail like I’m back in high school, waiting for a grade I already know isn’t good. His office is bright and sterile—white walls, framed diplomas, a fake plant that’s trying too hard. None of it helps the tight knot twisting in my stomach.
He places a file on the desk, his expression carefully neutral. “Kate…we need to talk.”
My pulse drops straight into my feet. “What happened?”
He slides the paperwork toward me. The legal jargon blurs until a few words punch through clearly enough to steal my breath.
Motion to bypass mediation. Request for expedited hearing.
