**The Surprise**
“Fancy a pint at the pub? Bit of a chat after work?” Oliver asked as the day wound down.
“Sorry, Ive got to head home. Look” James pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it.
“Youre actually doing it?” Oliver studied the ring, eyebrows raised. “Thought youd never settle down.” He clapped James on the shoulder.
“Emma and I have been together four yearstime to make it official. She doesnt know. Its a surprise. If I dont ask now…”
“Youll never do it,” Oliver finished for him. “Still having doubts? Come on, Emmas lovely. Bit jealous, honestly.”
“Right, Id best be off.” James tucked the box away. “Promised Emma Id be back early.” He hurried to the lift.
On the way home, he stopped at a florist for a bouquet of red rosesEmmas favourite. He set them on the passenger seat, rehearsing his proposal at every traffic light. *”Emma, love, youve waited long enough Emma, will you marry me?”* None of it sounded right.
Parking outside his flat, he grabbed the roses and headed for the door. Just as he reached for the handle, his phone rang.
“James, love…” His mothers voice trembled.
Instantly, he knew something was wrong. “Whats happened, Mum?”
“Im alright. Its Sarah… Shes gone, love.”
“Christ…” His grip on the door loosened.
It didnt make sense. Sarahhis childhood friend, gone. “How?”
“A hit-and-run. Died instantly. They never found the driver. Funerals tomorrow. Will you come? She loved you…” His mother sniffed. “Lucys all alone now. Someones got to step insocial services might take her…”
“Ill sort it,” James promised.
“Please, love…” Her voice broke.
*Sarahs gone.* The words echoed in his skull. He hadnt loved her the way shed loved him. She deserved better.
He barely remembered climbing the stairs or standing at his front door. The roses felt absurd now. Where could he even put them? The news had knocked him sideways. Proposing tonight wouldve been obscene.
“Special occasion?” Emma appeared from the living room. The flat smelled of roasting chickenusually, his stomach wouldve growled, but now the scent felt intrusive.
“Dont need a reason for flowers.” He snapped back to the present, handing her the bouquet and pecking her cheek.
Emma lowered her eyes, hiding her disappointment, and vanished into the kitchen. Soon, water ran in the sink.
When he joined her, the roses sat in a vase, and Emma was setting the table. He wasnt hungry but forced himself to sit.
“Not eating?” she asked.
“Not tonight. Mum rang. Sarah died. Funerals tomorrow.”
“Sarah…?” Emma waited.
“My ex-wife,” he clarified. “Got to sort things for Lucy. Our daughter.”
“Waityou never said you had a daughter. How old is she?”
“Twelve, I think.”
“So youre bringing her here? To live with us?”
“Dont know. Sarah had no family. My mums not well enough. Sorry, Ive got to pack.”
“Youre *going*?” Emmas voice tightened.
“Night train. Already called work.”
“Youve been divorced years. She mustve had someone else”
“Emma, *not now*.” He left the car for her, clutching the ring box in his pocket.
“*This* was your surprise?” She pushed back from the table.
“No. Ill explain when Im back.”
***
Theyd known each other since nursery. Skinny, fair-haired Sarah was always poorly, scarves wrapped round her throat. When her parents died in their teens, her gran passed soon after. Jamess parents took her in.
His dad joked, *Theres your bride, son.* James bristled.
Then, during A-levels, his parents left for the weekend. He barely remembered how it happenedonly that Sarah got pregnant. His parents insisted they marry.
He cared for her like a sister. Love was supposed to feel grander, wasnt it? But he married her. Sarah struggled through the pregnancy. When Lucy was born, he felt nothing. The truth was bitterhe didnt love Sarah, didnt care for his daughter. He wasnt ready. After scraping through his first year at uni, he transferred to London and left.
His dad had said, *We dont abandon children in this family. Leave, and youre no son of mine.*
James never went back. Not even when his dad died.
At first, Sarahs flat was rented out. When she met someone, she moved in with him. His mum sent photos of Lucy growing upher face more like Sarahs each year. James felt nothing.
Now, for the first time in twelve years, he was going home. He wouldnt take Lucy. What kind of father was he? *”We dont abandon children. Whats wrong with you? Youre no son of mine.”* His dads words haunted him. His dad had even pushed for the divorce*Let her find someone decent.*
A shame they never made peace.
Then came Emma. Impossible not to fall for her. Yet hed stalled, never proposinguntil now, when Sarahs death upended everything. As if shed had the last word, ruining his happiness.
Though, truthfully, there wasnt much left to ruin. The passion had faded; they stayed together out of habit. He wasnt sure he wanted marriagejust didnt want to lose her.
Exhausted, James finally slept.
His mum hugged him, weeping. Lucy stood apart, wary.
“Lucy, love, this is your dad,” his mum said.
The girl snorted, spun on her heel, and vanished into *his* old room.
“Give her time,” his mum murmured.
Sarahs coffin was closed. It felt like shed never existed. Lucy didnt cry, just scowled, ignoring James.
He tried speaking to her. She stared past him. Once, he overheard her arguing with his mum.
“Lucy, Im too old to keep you. Just go with your dad for nowyou can come back later.”
“Why? He doesnt want me. Might as well go straight to care.”
“Youve no idea what cares like! Not with your dad alive!”
A door slammed.
Yet Lucy boarded the train to London with him.
“Who dyou live with?” she asked.
“Gran told you? Yeah, theres someone. Was going to propose. Bought a ring. Youll like her.” He wasnt sure himself.
The flat was empty. Emmas things were gone. Her keys lay on the console table.
“Your rooms there. Settle in.” He retreated to the bathroom. Emmas number went straight to voicemail. Probably blocked him.
When he emerged, Lucy was making sandwiches, tea steeping. He was grateful she didnt gloat or demand answers.
Next day, they enrolled her in the local school, then shopped for clothes. Conversation was sparse, but Lucy made omelettes the next morning.
“Gran teach you to cook?”
“Mum did.”
“Good job,” he said.
That was all.
He showed her Londoncinema, roller-skating in Hyde Park. Slowly, the ice thawed.
Then work sent him to China for a week. Refusing wouldve killed his career. But Lucy?
“Im not a baby,” she said.
“Yeah, but its London. You dont know it yet. Ill sort something.”
“Ask Sophie from work. She fancies you,” his mate Mark suggested.
Hed noticed the junior colleague blushing around him.
Mark was right. Sophie agreed eagerly. He invited her over to meet Lucy. They hit it off, laughter drifting from Lucys room.
He left for China light-hearted. Lucys presence had unnerved himhe was used to solitude. But he hadnt expected to miss her. He rang daily. Lucy always passed the phone to Sophie straight away. She hadnt forgiven him yet.
Returning, he called ahead. As the cab pulled up, he spotted them by the entrancealike as sisters. His heart leapt. No one had ever waited for him like this.
Stepping out, Lucy approached. He hugged her awkwardly; she didnt pull away. Sophie lingered, smiling. He wanted to hug her too.
“Come on, lets go in. Brought you presents.”
Handing over glossy bags, he revelled in their delight more than they did.
“Anything to eat?”
“Course!” Sophie dashed to the kitchen. Lucy followed. The clatter of platestheyd bonded.
Dinner was lively, both quizzing him about China. For the first time in years, he felt content.
As Sophie prepared to leave, Lucy drawled, *”Daaaaad…”* jerking her chin toward the hall.
Had she really called him that?
He followed Sophie out. “Stay. Still loads to tell you.”
Lucy grabbed her hand, tugging her back to her room.
That night, James lay awake. So much had changed. Lucy had warmedthanks to Sophie. She was easy company. Emma wouldve clashed with Lucy.
Two months ago, if someone had told him hed be living with his daughter, hed have laughed. And Sophie… He liked knowing she slept just down the hall. Too soon to say, but why not try? She fancied him. And he… He searched his feelings. It just felt right. Maybe that *was* love.
