On my way.
The knock comes less than ten minutes later.
I’ve been pacing the kitchen—past the sink, the counter, the fridge—like movement might keep me from unraveling. The papers from the lawyer’s office are still spread across the table, bold black letters blurring every time I glance at them.
When I open the door, Cam’s standing there in a navy T-shirt and jeans, eyes already scanning my face.
“What happened?” he asks.
I step back to let him in. “It’s bad.”
He closes the door behind him and turns to face me fully. “Tell me.”
“They moved the hearing up,” I say. The words come out thin, stretched tight. “Four weeks.”
His expression hardens. “How?”
“They bypassed mediation.”
“Can they do that?”
“They already did.” I press my hands to the counter, grounding myself. “They’re arguing Evie needs stability before the school year starts.”
Cam swears under his breath. “What does your lawyer think?”
“That it’s going to be a full hearing. Witnesses. A judge.” My voice cracks. “No mediator. No easing into it. Just…everything on display.”
I gesture around the kitchen—at the stack of mail, the half-finished laundry, Evie’s drawings taped to the fridge. “They’re going to look at my whole life and decide if it’s enough.”
He steps closer. “It is enough.”
"Not to them," I say quietly, my chest tightening. "They won't see the nights I stayed up with her when she was sick, or the mornings I held it together when I didn't think I could. They'll just see what fits on paper."
“Then make sure your lawyer focuses on those things,” he says firmly.
I shake my head, tears finally spilling. “I’m sorry. I just feel really worried right now.”
Cam closes the distance, his hands settling on the counter on either side of me. “I know you are, and it’s good you’re getting it out. But I know we can work with your lawyer to make sure they see the mother that you are, see how hard you work for Evie.”
I swallow hard. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to win this.”
His voice stays calm. “Then we figure it out together.”
Cam smiles and gives me a moment to collect myself. When I look into his eyes, I feel the words creeping up on me. This is a partnership. This is him continuing to show up for me, but allow me to work through things myself.
It’s terrifying and wonderful all at once. And I know it’s time to tell him how I feel.
Chapter forty-six
Cam
She doesn’t pull away after I finish speaking. Her fingers hover at my shirt like she’s afraid to hang on too tight. I take her in all at once: those tiny freckles across her nose, the flutter of her pulse in her neck, the way her bottom lip presses between her teeth when her mind starts racing.
She stays right where she is, back against the counter, my hands still braced on either side of her. I give her space without stepping back. I’ve learned the difference with her—when she needs room to run and when she needs steadiness to lean into. Right now, it’s the second one.
Her eyes stay on mine, searching. I can practically see it happening—the way her shoulders ease, the way her breathing slows.This isn’t fear spiraling. This is clarity settling in. She exhales, long and controlled. Then she lifts her gaze fully to mine.
“You don’t have to fix this,” she says quietly.
