Unexpected Eva (Triple Trouble #3)(36)

“Happy times a gazillion,” Archie shouts into the air as Hamish claps his little chubby hands together, getting excited.

“Your cup must be overflowing, Archie.” I gaze in awe at my ice-blond-haired boy.

“Did you go to Toni’s and get my favorite ice cream?” Archie’s striking blue eyes shine back in hope.

“Yes. Mud, with a hint of mushroom and broccoli, that’s your favorite, isn’t it?” I tease him.

He scrunches his face up. “Noooooo. Argh, yuck. Mom. You should know by now. It’s strawberry.” He rolls his eyes.

Hamish’s dark eyes meet mine. “I like mushrooms.” He flings himself into my arms, almost bowling me over.

I kiss his chubby cheeks. “I know you do, baby. And broccoli.” He’d eat anything.

“I do, but me not a baby, Momma.”

“I know you’re not.”

He is. He’s my baby. As is Archie.

“Right, boys. Shall we serve up dinner? Want to help me set the table?” I ask Archie hopefully.

“Nope. I want to watch Spiderman.”

“Me too, me too.” Hamish wiggles in my arms as he shoots invisible spiderwebs from his wrists. “I put my Spiderman outfit on.” He leaps out of my embrace, then dashes up the stairs to his bedroom.

They always have a knack for lifting my mood.

I’m left standing in the hallway by myself again. A gentle ding from my phone alerts me to yet another evening of abusive text messages ahead.

Deep joy.

I make a mental note. Tomorrow. Find a new lawyer.





“Morning. Is this Eva Wallace?”

“Yes,” I answer the unknown female voice I’ve picked up a call from as I zoom about getting ready for school on yet another manic Monday morning.

“This is Veronica Evans. I’m a family lawyer specializing in divorce. Knox Black asked me to call you. I hope you don’t mind, but he filled me in regarding the escalating harassing text messages you are receiving from your estranged husband and his reluctance to sign your divorce papers.”

I stop picking up the morning towels and pajamas from the bathroom floor.

“Knox?”

“Yes.”

“Asked you to call me?”

“Yes, Eva. Knox informed me you're a close family friend. He’s very concerned about your ongoing safety.”

Is he?

“Right.”

“We have grounds to file a police report, but I require more information and I would love for you to meet me today if you’re free.”

I dump the laundry from my hands into the wash basket in the bathroom corner.

“I will make time,” I state firmly.

“Excellent.” I can hear her smile down the phone. “One thirty work?”

“Yes. Perfect.”

“I look forward to seeing you then, Eva. We’ve moved. We are now situated at the new office complex off Morrison Way. You know the one?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Great. We are the third junction on the left, off the roundabout. You can’t miss us. Just look for the big sign that has my name on it.” She sounds excited about her new office. “See you at one thirty this afternoon, Eva. Any friend of Knox is a friend of mine. We will look after you.”

“Okay.” I’m lost for words. “Thank you.”

She says a cheerful bye and hangs up.

Removing my phone from my ear, I stare blankly at it.

Knox called a lawyer to help me.

Why would he do that?

Pay attention, Eva. Family friend. That’s why, and that’s all you are. Both Veronica and Knox said it themselves.

I don’t want to ask my parents for financial help. I know Veronica’s firm incredibly well and how much they charge an hour. Probably as much as Knox Black’s fine cut bespoke tailored suits. Also known as fuck tons.

Newsflash. I don’t have fuck tons at the moment.

I fan the neck of my vest top back and forth to cool me down as an overwhelming wave of heat flashes over my skin.

The last thing I want to do is sell my collectable Campervan. I knew it was always going to be a possibility, but now it may be inevitable.

Oh well, let’s see what Veronica has to say later. Then I’ll have to work out my finances. Juggle a few things to pay for her.

Fuck divorce. This sucks.

I shake my head, bringing me back to the now and back to my Monday morning ritual. “Archie, why is there toothpaste on the mirror in my bedroom?” I shout from the top of the stairs.

Rushing into the boys' bedrooms next, I discover more toothpaste on the wall.

“Boys!”

“It was all Hamish’s idea. He painted you a picture on the wall,” Archie calls from the bottom of the stairs.

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

Placing my hands on my hips, I look at the sky as if the heavens above will help me. “Seriously? Enough now, Universe. Stop. No more.”

I fling myself back onto Archie’s bed and close my eyes.

Give me strength.

Or a vacation.

By myself.

In the Bahamas.

Or back to the safety of Knox’s home.

Never. Going. To. Happen.