Page 113 of The Surprise

“What did you need to decide?” She shakes her head. “I really don’t even know why you wanted to meet me again.”

I reach across the table and take her hand. “You don’t know why I wanted to meet you?” I squeeze her hand, because it’s trembling. “I love you, Beth. That wasn’t some line. And pregnant or not, it’s still true.”

She yanks her hand back, her voice a hiss. “I’m pregnant with someone else’s kid, Ethan. My dad has done everything he can to make you hate my entire family—”

“And none of that worked.” I cross my arms.

“You’re an idiot.”

I lean forward, bracing my hands on the table. “You’re finally getting it.”

She freezes, her face shocked.

And then she laughs. Loudly.

“There.” I smile, too. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do for a very long time. I love you, Beth Ellingson. You’re my Juliet. And do you know what Romeo’s and Juliet’s problem was?”

“Their families?” She smirks. “I’m not a genius, but I remember the play.”

I shake my head. “No, not their families. Their real problem was that, when push came to shove, they were too stupid to live. Literally.”

She laughs again, and this time, she kind of snort-laughs at the end. She claps a hand over her mouth.

“We aren’t that dumb,” I say. “Don’t take the poison. Take my hand instead. Don’t let our families, or our friends, or anyone at all pull us apart. No matter what you decide you want to do, I’m here. I’ll help with everything you need. I’ll punch that loser, or I’ll rub your feet. I’ll help put together a crib, or help you look over adoption applications. I’ll change diapers, or I’ll help you decide if you want siblings for him or her or an only child family. Just, whatever you do, don’t give up onme. On us. Not yet.”

Beth looks at me for a long time. Then she finally speaks. “I need to think about things. Can I do that?”

“Of course,” I say. “For as long as you want.”

22

Beth

Having piles of crocheted stuff occupy every corner of your house is crazy. Spending all your time and money caring for plants is nearly as bad. I’m aware that both things are true, and yet, I keep coming back here. Dolores Jenkins is really nice, and I think she likes the company.

“You’re absolutely awful at this.” She laughs.

I mean, she’s not wrong. What was supposed to be a tiny stuffed lion looks an awful lot like a melting blob of butter with orange strings puking out of it. “I can’t keep the stitch count straight. Can you show me again?”

“I thought anyone could learn,” she says. “I know I told you that, but it might not have been true.”

“Wow,” I say. “One little setback and you give up?”

“It’s been two weeks,” Dolores says. “And so far, you’ve failed to make a hat, mittens, a scarf, socks, and this lion.”

“Rude,” I say. “Do you know what all those have in common?”

“You?” Dolores’ lip is twitching.

“And myteacher,” I say. “Geez.”

“I think you’re having trouble focusing.”

“I’m plenty focused.” I narrow my eyes and look at the golden yarn. “So here goes nothing.”

Dolores puts her hand on mine. “Didn’t you say you have a baby shower to go to?” She glances at the clock. “I really don’t think this lion is going to be ready in time, even if you miraculously figure things out.”

I swallow.

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