18. Chapter 18
Being with Lizzie was easy. The weeks went by and before we knew it, it was fall and we were sharing hot chocolate and pumpkin flavored frothy drinks—and cookies and bread and muffins, and whatever the hell else they make in pumpkin flavor—all while holding hands, strolling down the city streets, or driving out into the suburbs.
She joined me and my family for Thanksgiving dinner at my parents’ house. When she told me her sister would be celebrating the holiday with her boyfriend’s family, and her mom was going to stay in Florida, I insisted. What Lizzie didn’t seem to understand was we were going to spend the holiday together no matter what, regardless of whether we were at my parents’ house, my apartment or her new place. I wasn’t going to let us be apart.
She looked adorable as she held up the apple pie she made at eye level as we walked up the porch steps to the house. She was nervous. She spent all morning picking out the perfect outfit, which ended up being a pair of black jeans and a silky pink top. I waited for her to get ready at the apartment she started renting after she graduated, standing by idly as she pummeled one shirt after another onto the bed in frustration as she cursed under her breath—something about nothing fitting right, or shirts clinging to her “jelly belly” and “child-bearing hips,” or some shit.
Of course, after that I had to prove to her she was the sexiest thing alive, which made us run a little behind schedule.
Before we went in, I pulled Lizzie aside on the porch.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
I took the pie from her hands and put it on the bench.
“Make sure it stays flat!”
I turned back to her and gently enveloped her in my arms and started to sway. Sighing, she gave into me, just the tiniest bit. “I’m not panicking,” she said, face smushed into my chest.
“Shhhh,” I cooed. “Just humor me, and stay like this with me, just for a moment.”
Conceding some more, she wrapped her arms around my midsection as I kept my arms around her shoulders and smoothed her hair over her head.
“Don’t mess up my hair.” She jerked. “I spent all morning straightening it.”
“Shhhh,” I repeated. “First of all, my family already loves you. You know they do.”
Lizzie relaxed a little in my arms. “And second?” she pressed.
“Second,” I kissed the top of her head, then with my knuckles tipped her head up so I could look into her eyes, “once we go inside, my family is going to be all over you, and I won’t get any time alone with you. So maybe this is for me. One last moment, just the two of us.”
An emotion flitted across her face before she gave me a smile. “Just the two of us,” she repeated, then leaned up on her tippy toes and gave me a chase kiss. “Now, let’s get in there before they find us necking on the front porch like a couple of teenagers.”
“Necking?” I asked as she moved past me to pick up the pie, again holding it at eye level, and heading toward the door.
As soon as I opened it, the smell of turkey and salt and something sweet hit all at once and it was an overwhelming smell of home.
My parents lived in a modest house, considering my dad’s livelihood. It was a Colonial that had a small entryway that opened into the living room, where my dad and Bram were perched on the edge of the couch, beers in hand, watching the Bills game. A formal dining room was to the left, with the kitchen further inside. A staircase almost directly across from the entry led to three rooms upstairs, one of which was my dad’s home office.
My mother came rushing out of the kitchen, through the dining room, wiping her hands on her apron and barreling right at Lyzbeth like a hurricane. She grabbed the pie from her and handed it off to my dad who was also approaching, then scooped Lizzie up in her arms and swayed. She stepped back and held her at arm’s length, hands on her shoulders, then pulled her back in again.
I couldn’t hear what my mom was saying to her because after my dad deposited the pie on the table, he was pulling me into the living room to tell me who was winning the football game.
“Hey, bro, s’up?” Bram greeted me, without ever looking away from the TV.
Emily came out from the kitchen and joined the ladies in their hug fest.
Lizzie looked over her shoulder at me, and I mouthed “You OK?” and she nodded before being whisked off into the kitchen. I pushed up the sleeves on my gray thermal shirt before I sat down on the couch.
When I looked back at Bram, he was watching the ladies leave, and I quirked my brow at him.
“What?” he asked defensively.
“Oh, nothing, brother. Just that I’ve never seen anything take your attention away from the football game before. So, either you’re really into your leading lady these days, or you’re just getting soft.”
Rolling his eyes and tipping his head back to drain his beer, Bram replied, “I was just looking to see if Em was bringing any snacks out.”
Dad and I exchanged glances.
A while later, when I meandered into the kitchen, I heard laughter from all the ladies. I could already tell which laugh belonged to Lizzie. I leaned my shoulder against a wall just inside the kitchen, arms and ankles crossed, as I simply observed.
All three ladies were huddled together as Lizzie held her phone at arm’s length. I wondered if they were taking a selfie, but my girl’s eyes found mine, and she smiled, then waved me over. “Knox, come say hi to my mom!”
Ah, she was on a video call.
“Hi Nora,” I said as I quickly approached the phone Lizzie had turned in my direction. I took it from her.
“Hi, Knox!” she replied in that ever so friendly tone she had. “I just met your mother and sister-in-law. They’re wonderful!”
“Oh, you mean Emily. She’s just Bram’s forever girlfriend. He hasn’t made her an honest woman yet, so I don’t have to claim her as family.”
“Knox Angus Mitchell!” my mother chided as Nora also yelled something I didn’t quite catch, and Lizzie snapped a hand towel at me—getting me right in the side.
“Ouch,” I yelped.
She grabbed the phone out of my hands. “On that note, Mom, I’m gonna hang up. Dinner is almost ready, and I want to help Monica set the table.”
“Of course. All my love to everyone over there! Happy Thanksgiving!”
My mom hopped back into the frame behind Lizzie. “Happy Thanksgiving, Nora! You’ll have to let us know next time you’re in town, and we can meet for real!”
“Absolutely!”
As Lizzie hung up, Mom thrust a spoonful of potatoes into Emily’s mouth, asking, “You think this needs more parsley?”
Emily smacked her lips together a bit, then smiled. “Nope. Perfect as always!”
“Good,” Mom said, then turned and shoved the bowl of potatoes into my hands. “Table, now,” she said, pointing in the direction of the dining room. “And summon up the other men folk and tell them it’s time!” she yelled at my back as I left the room.
We crowded around a too-small dining table and ate too much food, as Mom and Dad told inappropriate stories about Bram and me from our childhood. All the while I noticed Lizzie fidgeting beside me. I frequently placed my hand on her thigh and squeezed, or put my arm around the back of her chair and leaned into her to try to let her know I was with her and that, whatever nerves she was feeling, she didn’t have to.
Bram cleared his throat, bringing my dad’s stories to a halt. “Um, Dad, it’s been great taking a trip down memory lane and all, but I, uh,” he drained his glass of wine in an unattractive chug before ungracefully placing the glass back down with a thud, “I want to think about the future. Well, I mean, the past and the future. I want to bring the past into the future … awe shit.”
What the hell? I leaned over slightly toward Lizzie and asked, “Do you think he’s having a stroke?”
“No,” she breathed, without taking her eyes off him.
Bram ran a hand through his hair, just like I do when I’m nervous, then turned his chair so he was fully facing Emily, who had just shoveled a forkful of stuffing into her mouth. He pulled the fork out of her hand and let it fall onto her plate with a clang while she looked at him and paused, mid-chew, as he took her hands in his.
“Emily, I have memories with you. Good and bad. Most of them are good. I mean, all of them are good! Well except that time we camped in the Adirondacks, and I still maintain that outhouse kerfuffle was not my fault!” Silence fell around the table as we all stared at Bram, sweating and mumbling like an idiot.
“I want to have more times like that. Well, maybe not the camping. I think we’ve established we are hotel people. I kind of like actual plumbing when I have to crap. But we could do cruises or something.”
I leaned back over to Lizzie, who had her hands over her mouth, and it dawned on me what was happening. “Is he?”
“Yes!” she hissed, a tear falling from her eye. “Help him!” She looked at me.
I leaned back with brows raised, jabbing a finger at my own chest in question.
Now leaning my way, Lizzie whispered through the side of her mouth. “He just used the word ‘crap’ in a marriage proposal. He’s drowning over there. You’re his brother, throw him a life preserver!”
I looked back over at Bram, and Emily, who was also covering her face with her hands, realizing what was happening and waiting for Bram to self-implode before he actually got around to the question. He took both her hands in one of his, then wiped his brow with the other. “I, uh—I love you! I mean, you know that, right? I uh … damn, Mom is the oven still on? I’m sweating like a whore in church!”
Lizzie smacked her forehead. Em stayed frozen. Mom giggled. Dad didn’t know what the hell was going on.
Lifting my glass of wine, I cleared my throat. “Hey, brother, are you trying to gain me a sister? Cuz, I’ve never had one before. But I think, if I were ever to get one, Emily here would be my first choice.”
“Yes!” He let out a breath, releasing one of Emily’s hands and pointing at me. “I am.”
Cupping Emily’s face in his hands and gently turning her toward him so he had all her attention, he finally spit out: “Emily. I’ve loved you for so long I can’t remember a time when I didn’t. And I will love you forever, and I want to marry you, make more memories with you, and sit here at this table for more crowded meals and embarrassing stories and, well, I’m kind of running out but, you get my drift, right?”
Emily nodded repeatedly as Bram dug into his pocket and pulled out a ring. From where I sat, it looked simple, but elegant. He did good.
Taking her trembling hand in his shaky grip, he finally—finally—asked, “Emily, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” she shrieked, as she flung her arms around his neck, practically knocking him over, and wept. He did too.
Mom was a blubbering mess. Dad was speechless. And looking over, I saw tears streaming down Lizzie’s face. I raised my brows at her. Wiping them with the back of her hand, she stammered, “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so emotional.”
Dad finally joined the party, bounding up from the table. “Well, it’s about damn time, son!” Arms raised, he came around the table, as everyone started to stand. “Emily,” he cheered as he crushed her in her arms. “You make my son so happy, and I’m so glad I can finally call you my daughter.”
Hugs, tears, back slaps and sheer joy were passed around for a long time before we all finally settled back into our chairs, and Mom brought out the desserts.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” I lashed out at Bram across the table. “How could you not tell me?”
“Please. I’ve been a fucking wreck since I bought that damn ring. I could barely get the nerve to ask Emily, let alone talk about it.” He chugged some more wine.
“Lemme see it!” Lizzie addressed Emily, reaching out and taking her left hand, and turning it so the ring glistened in the light. “Oh my God! It’s gorgeous!”
“I can’t believe it!” Emily said, her right palm on her face. “Am I blushing?”
“No, girl, you are glowing!”
The two hugged again as Mom made her way to the table with a pumpkin pie, and Lizzie’s apple pie. “OK, who wants what?” Mom asked as she started cutting and serving.
“I want a big slice of each,” Dad answered.
“Same here,” said Bram.
“Wanna share ours?” Lizzie asked me.
“Sounds good,” I said, leaning over and grabbing a dish Mom had plated with a slice of each pie. “I’m gonna try yours first,” I said, digging into the apple and making an over-the-top “mmmm” sound as I chewed.
“Oh, stop!” Lizzie shoved my shoulder and wrinkled her nose at me. “Is it that bad?”
“It’s fucking delicious!” Bram said around a mouthful. Half of his slice was already gone.
“Bram, language!” Mom chided, then added, “Really, Lizzie, it’s fantastic.”
“Thanks,” my girl said, blushing.
I watched her dig into the pumpkin pie and take a large bite, rolling her eyes a bit as she enjoyed it. Mom made a mean pumpkin pie. Then I saw Lizzie quickly take a drink of water. Swish it around a little. And take another sip.
“You OK?” I asked her as the others conversed around the table.
She nodded. “Yeah, uh, I think it’s just, maybe the nutmeg? I got, like, a whiff or a bite of um …” She took another sip of water.
“Yeah, my mom has some kind of secret recipe …”
And suddenly, Lizzie jumped up, depositing her napkin on her chair. “I just have to use the restroom.” She darted out of the room. Mom and Bram looked at me as Dad held Emily’s attention with some sort of story. I shrugged, wiped my mouth on my napkin and got up to go after her.
I approached the bathroom at the end of the hallway and just as I was about to knock on the closed door, I heard her heave. Barreling into the small space with gaudy floral wallpaper, I closed the door behind me as I saw her, leaning over the toilet, holding her own hair, as she vomited.
“Aw, shit, Lizzie. You OK?”
She looked at me like that was a stupid question, which it was. Then she puked some more.
I took her hair into my hands and held it away from her face as I watched Thanksgiving dinner resurface. Finally finishing, she wiped her mouth with toilet paper, flushed the toilet and closed the lid, then headed over to the sink to wash her mouth out.
“Are you sick?” I asked as she scooted past me. “Did you eat too much?”
Folding her arms over her chest and looking down at the floor, she murmured something.
I heard it. I heard the words, but it took a second for them to fall into correct order in my brain. I took a step back and crossed my own arms over my chest.
Lyzbeth must have taken my silence as an indication that I didn’t hear her, so she repeated herself. “I’m pregnant, Knox.”
I nodded, my eyes focusing on one of the little flowers on the wallpaper. It had what looked like a little pocket of pollen or seeds in the middle. Something a bee might try and feed off of.
“Knox?”
“Yeah,” I blew out a breath. “I’m here. I’m just … Just give me a second.”
Now she nodded. “Yep,” she popped the “p” sound. “Take your time. It’s kind of a big one, so just, go ahead and digest that a little bit.”
Pregnant. With child. My child. I’m 24 and she’s … I don’t even know. I think she’s younger than me by a year. She just graduated so … “How old are you?” I asked, which got me a scrupulous look. “Never mind. Not important,” I waved my hand through the air. “Sorry, I’m just processing here.”
“I get it,” she said, leaning back against the wall. “Carry on.”
She’s pregnant. She doesn’t look pregnant. Suddenly I was staring at her. Don’t they say your boobs get bigger when you’re pregnant? They don’t look bigger. Neither does her stomach. Wait, I think that happens later.
“Stop it,” she bit out and I snapped my eyes up to hers. “Stop looking at my body. You can’t tell. It’s too early.”
“Right.” I ran a hand through my hair and put my other on my hip. “But today, you said nothing fit.”
“I’m just bloated. I mean, I guess that could be because of the pregnancy, but it’s not like a baby bump or anything. I haven’t even been to the doctor yet.”
“Oh. Oh! So, you don’t know for sure,” I exclaimed.
“The tests said so.”
“Tests? How many tests?” I asked.
“Seven.”
“Seven! Wow. Seven. That’s a lot of tests.”
“Yep. All positive.”
“All of them?” I started to sweat.
“Yep. Some had plus signs. Some had two stripes. Some were digital so they actually said the word ‘PREGNANT’ right on them. One was kind of a purple, when it was either supposed to be blue or pink, but it was more of a pinkish purple.”
“Pinkish purple. Wow …”
I was suddenly struck with a sad image of Lizzie in her bathroom peeing on multiple sticks and watching the results come in, all alone, panicking. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I only just found out three days ago, Knox. I swear, I wouldn’t keep this from you for long. It was just kind of hard to get the words out, you know? Bram’s marriage proposal was a piece of cake considering this bombshell.”
“No, I mean, why didn’t you tell me when you suspected it? So you didn’t have to find out alone?”
She looked at me, and for the life of me I couldn’t place the emotion I saw on her face. “Knox,” she said slowly, “I’m not trying to trap you.”
What?
“I don’t think I can, you know … I mean, I know we have options, but I’m not sure I could, um, terminate. And in no way am I trying to say you have to make a decision right now or that you would have to do anything. I just, physically, I don’t think I could—”
I quickly reached out, grabbed her wrists and jerked her into my arms, feeling sorry for my cold response. Good lord, Lizzie had been marinating in this all alone. She had to suffer through holiday dinner with my family and my brother’s psychotic break as he proposed to the love of his life, right in front of us, while she’s been thinking about this life we created that’s just hanging there. Just existing between us.
She pulled away just enough to let out a ragged breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, eyes cast down.
“What?” I tilted her chin up to mine, but her eyes remained trained on the floor. “Baby, look at me.”
Her eyes snapped to mine, and I was lost in them. “First of all, why are you sorry? Sorry that you got pregnant? I’m the guy. Literally, the least I can do is wrap it up, and I didn’t. We’ve been fornicating like rabbits everywhere we go. What did we think was going to happen? So I’m the one who’s sorry, OK?”
I paused while she nodded, and a tear slipped down her face.
“No, you know what? Fuck that. I’m not sorry,” I changed course.
Lizzie pulled back, almost alarmed, but I kept my hands on her shoulders, briefly. “Hang on a sec. Just, let me work through this,” I said, pulling a hand away and twirling my index finger around my head, indicating that my wheels were spinning.
“Yep. You do you,” Lizzie said, again retreating to her arms-crossed stance.
I ran both hands through my hair and let out a long, hard breath, then sat down on the closed toilet seat as my thoughts swirled.
She’s pregnant. I’m going to be a father. Do I want to be a father? I mean, I guess I’ve always seen myself having kids. Not yet, of course. I thought Lyzbeth and I would have more time together. Just the two of us. But I was also afraid she would wise up and move on. But we could be a family. We could do the whole fucking thing. Marriage, kid, dog, house … This could be just the beginning.
Forearms resting on my spread knees, I looked up at the mother of my unborn child—holy shit. She was chewing her thumbnail nervously. I reached out and grabbed her elbow, pulling her thumb out of her mouth, and slid my hand down her arm until her hand was in mine. “Let’s do this,” I said, looking her in the eyes. “Let’s have a fucking baby.”
Her bottom lip quivered. Her eyes darted around. “Knox.”
“What?” I asked, reaching out to grab her other hand and pulling her so she was standing in front of me, between my knees. I put my hands on her hips and rest my forehead on her lower stomach. “What’s going on in that head? Tell me.”
I actually heard her swallow. “You don’t have to. You’re a good guy, and I love that you are taking this so well and want to do the right thing. But you don’t have to.”
“I want to,” I said, tipping my head up at her so only my chin was resting on her stomach. “I want this, Lizzie. It wasn’t planned, and it’s crazy, but I’ll tell you what, my heart has never been so full.” I squeezed her hips slightly, urging her to look at me. To see me. “What do you want?”
She chewed her bottom lip and tears fell down her face. “I mean,” she wiped the back of her hand under each eye, “I guess we could give it a try. I could get a two-bedroom apartment, you know, for a nursery. And you and Bram have that office room at your apartment you could put a crib in. Do you think he would mind having the baby at your place some nights?”
I chuckled as I buried my face back in her midsection before pulling her onto my lap, straddling me. “You think we’re going to live separately?” I asked, placing her hands on my shoulders and wrapping mine around her waist.
“You want to move in together?” she asked.
Looking her straight in the eyes, I replied, “I want to get married.”
She scoffed. “Knox. Please.” She tried to push off me, but I wouldn’t let her.
“What?” I asked.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“Because we can’t get married.”
“Why not?”
“Well,” she said, leaning back so she could look down at me as I hardened my grip around her waist. “For starters, we’ve known each other for about six minutes.”
“Best six minutes of my life!”
“I don’t even know if I like you all that much!”
It was my turn to scoff. “I’ll grow on you,” I said, trying to hold in another chuckle.
She stared at me. “You’re serious.” It wasn’t a question.
“Dead serious.”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “I don’t even know if you like me that much.”
“I love you,” I said without hesitation. She gasped.
“Don’t do that,” she said as she recovered. “Don’t go throwing that word out there just because of the situation.”
“I’m not,” I pulled my hands from her waist and placed them on either side of her face. “I love you. I’ve loved you since we sat around eating tacos with my family.”
Shocked, more tears fell down her face, and I smoothed them away with my thumbs, and she reached out and swiped under my eye, then looked at the little teardrop on her thumb. “Since when are you Mr. Emotional?” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“Must be the pregnancy hormones.”
“Pretty sure you don’t have pregnancy hormones.”
We stared at each other.
“Marry me,” I said, kissing her wet lips. “Move in with me.” I kissed her again. “Let’s have a baby,” another kiss, “and a house,” another, “and a dog—”
“I hate dogs.”
“OK, scrap the dog.” I kissed her again, more fiercely. She kissed me back, grabbing my wrists as I held her head in my hands. We drank from each other as her body relaxed into mine. Sitting there, on my parents’ toilet, my entire family eating Thanksgiving dessert in the other room, I waited for this woman to make or break me.
“Say yes, baby,” I breathed against her. “Say yes.”
“This is fucking nuts,” she said against my lips.
“Is that a yes?”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
“Yes?”
“So much is going to change.”
“Yes?”
Pulling away, Lizzie looked down, put one hand on her stomach, then the other on my chest. “Let’s do this,” she said.
“Yes?” I asked, more excitedly.
Nodding, she answered, “Yes.”