**The Surprise**
“Fancy a pint at the pub? Blow off some steam?” Oliver asked as the workday ended.
“Sorry, I’ve got to get home. Look.” James fished a small box from his pocket and opened it.
“You’re actually doing it?” Oliver examined the ring, eyebrows raised. “Thought you’d 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 her now…”
“You never will,” Oliver finished for him. “Still second-guessing? Come off it, mate. Emmas a stunner. Im a bit jealous, truth be told.”
“Right, Id best be off.” James tucked the box away. “Promised Emma Id be home early,” he said, hurrying toward the lift.
On the drive back, he stopped at a florist and bought a bouquet of deep red rosesEmmas favourite. He placed them on the passenger seat, rehearsing his speech at every red light. *”Darling Emma, youve waited so long… Emma, I love you, marry me.”* No, none of it sounded right.
Parking outside his flat, he grabbed the roses and headed for the door. His fingers curled around the handlethen his phone buzzed.
“James, love…” His mothers voice trembled.
Instantly, he knew. “Whats happened, Mum?”
“Im alright. Its… Sarah. Shes gone, love.”
“Christ.” His grip slackened; the door remained unopened.
Sarahhis childhood friend, gone. “How?”
“A hit-and-run. Died on impact. The drivers vanished. Funerals tomorrow. Will you come? She loved you…” His mother sniffed. “Lucys all alone now. Theyll take her into care if…”
“Ill try to make it,” James promised.
“Please come, son…” Her voice broke.
*Sarahs gone.* The words hammered in his skull. He hadnt loved her the way she deserved. And now
He barely remembered climbing the stairs. He blinked, standing at his front door, key in hand. The roses felt absurd now. Where to put them? The news had gutted him. Proposing tonight would be obscene.
“Who are the flowers for?” Emma emerged from the living room. Only then did he notice the rich scent of dinnerroast, maybe. Normally, his stomach wouldve growled. Now, the smell clashed with the numbness inside.
Emma waited, expectant. But James hesitated, lost.
“No reason needed for flowers.” He forced a smile, handed her the bouquet, and pecked her cheek.
Her eyes dropped, masking disappointment. She vanished into the kitchen. The sound of running water followed.
When he entered, the roses sat in a vase, and Emma laid out plates. He wasnt hungry but sat anyway, not wanting to hurt her.
“Youre not eating?”
“Not up to it. Sorry. Mum called. Sarah died. Funerals tomorrow.”
“Sarah… your…?” Emma trailed off.
“Ex-wife,” James clarified. “I have to go. Sort things out 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?” Emmas voice sharpened.
“I dont know. Sarah had no one. Her parents died when she was in school. And Mum… her arthritis is bad. Look, I need to pack.”
“Youre really going to the funeral?” Disbelief edged her words.
“Yes. Night train. Ive already called work.”
“Youve been divorced for years. She probably had someone else”
“Emma, *not now*.” He left the car keys. “Use it while Im gone.”
*”This* was your surprise?” She stood abruptly.
“No. Ill explain when Im back.” His fingers tightened around the box in his pocket.
The train ride was sleepless. Memories flickered behind his eyelids…
***
Theyd been friends since childhood. Same nursery, same school. Sarah was always slight, pale, a scarf perpetually wrapped around her throat.
When her parents died in Year 11, her gran lasted three months before her heart gave out. Jamess parents took Sarah in.
His dad joked, *”Theres your future wife.”* James would scowl, deny it.
Then, during A-levels, his parents went away for a weekend. He and Sarah were alone. He barely remembered how it happenedjust that she fell pregnant. His parents insisted they marry.
He cared for her like a sister. Love, he thought, should be grander. But he married her. Sarah struggled through the pregnancy. When he first held Lucy, he felt… nothing. The truth was bitterhe didnt love Sarah. Didnt love his child. He wasnt ready. He scraped through his first year at uni, transferred to London, and left.
His fathers words still stung: *”No one in this family abandons their blood. You walk out, youre dead to me.”*
Twelve years passed without a visit. Not even for his fathers funeral. His mum sent photosLucy growing up, looking more like Sarah each year. James felt nothing.
Now, he was going back.
His mum wept when she hugged him. Lucy stood apart, wary.
“Lucy, sweetheart, this is your dad,” his mum urged.
The girl snorted, spun on her heelplaits flyingand vanished into what used to be *his* room.
“Give her time,” his mum whispered.
The coffin was closed. It felt like Sarah had never existed. Lucy didnt cry, just glared at the ground.
He tried talking to her. She ignored him. Once, he overheard her and his mum:
“Lucy, love, Im too old to keep you. Just go with your dad for now”
“Why? He doesnt want me. Id rather go into care.”
“Dont say that! With a living father”
“Where was he before?” A door slammed.
Yet, she boarded the train to London with him.
“Who do you live with?” Lucy asked bluntly.
“Gran told you? Yeah, theres someone. Ill propose when were back. Youll like her.” He doubted it even as he spoke.
The flat was empty. Emmas things were gone. Only her keys remained on the side table.
“Your rooms there. Settle in.” James retreated to the bathroom. Emmas number went straight to voicemail. Blocked, probably.
When he emerged, Lucy was making tea and sandwiches. He was gratefulno hysterics, no gloating.
Next day, they enrolled her in school, bought clothes. They spoke little. By morning, shed made scrambled eggs.
“Gran teach you to cook?”
“Mum did.”
“Good job,” he said. That was all.
He showed her Londoncinema, rollerblading in Hyde Park. The ice between them thawed.
Then work sent him to China. Refusing meant career suicide. But Lucy
“Im not a baby,” she said.
“Its London. You dont know it yet.”
“Ask Sophie from work,” his mate Mark suggested. “Shes sweet on you.”
Sophie agreed eagerly. She and Lucy hit it offlaughter rang through the flat.
China passed in a blur. He called daily. Lucy handed the phone to Sophie each time. Unforgiven, but not forgotten.
Returning, he spotted them from the taxitwo figures by the door, nearly mirror images. His chest tightened. No one had ever waited for him like this.
Lucy didnt pull away when he hugged her. Sophie lingered, smiling. He wanted to hug her too.
“Lets go up. I brought presents.”
Watching their faces light up, he grinned wider than they did.
“Anything to eat?”
“Obviously!” Sophie darted to the kitchen. Lucy followed. The clatter of plates, their chatterit felt like home.
After dinner, Sophie made to leave.
“*Dad*,” Lucy drawled, jerking her chin toward the hall.
*Dad.* The word stunned him.
“Sophie, stay. Its late.”
Lucy tugged Sophie toward her room before she could protest.
That night, James lay awake. Life had upended itself. Lucy had softenedthanks to Sophie. She was easy, warm. Emma wouldve clashed with Lucy.
Two months ago, if someone said hed be living with his daughter, hed have laughed. And Sophie… He liked knowing she slept just beyond the wall. Too soon to say, but… She fancied him. And he?
It felt good. Maybe that was enough.
