Page 161 of Babies for the Big Shot
“I take offense to that.”
I grin. “You’re the kind of person who says things like, ‘Actually, the film adaptation lost all nuance.’”
“It does, in most cases.”
“I knew it.” I tap the counter. “Next you’re gonna tell me you judge people by the first book they buy here.”
“Only a little,” she says. “It’s more of a spiritual read. Like book astrology.”
“I bet you read banned books for fun.”
“Obviously,” she says, deadpan. “What’s the point of a story if it doesn’t challenge something?”
I let that sit for a second, because it’s actually… kind of profound. Then: “Okay, fine. What’s my book sign? My last purchase here was a battered copy ofMatilda, which I will defend to the death.”
Her eyes sparkle…sparkle, I kid you not. “You’re a quietly furious idealist who drinks too much iced coffee and hoards childhood trauma under a pile of sarcastic T-shirts.”
“Wow,” I breathe. “Ruthless and accurate.”
She leans on the counter, a little closer now. “What are you really doing here?”
I glance down at my shoes, then back up at her. “I… have something for you.”
My heart thunders. I haven’t okayed this with Nick… but he won’t hate me, will he?
I reach into my bag, and slide an envelope across the counter. “Okay. Now I’m really going to cross a line.”
Evelyn lifts a brow.
“It’s from last week,” I say. “Ultrasound.”
She doesn’t open it immediately. “Why give it to me?”
“Because you seem like someone who sees things other people miss. And these kids are gonna need that. They’re going to need someone in their life who doesn’t flinch when the world gets weird or loud or complicated.”
She opens the envelope slowly, then stares down at the grainy photo. Three little blobs huddled together in the inky black.
“They’re going to need an aunt,” I say. “Someone who reads banned books. Someone who knows how to disappear when things get loud, but who always finds her way back.”
Evelyn opens the envelope slowly, then stares down at the grainy photo. Her brow furrows.
She squints. Tilts the picture sideways. Then back again. “Wait. Are there… three?”
I nod, a little sheepishly. “Yeah.”
Her eyes widen, real surprise blooming across her face. “Three?”
“Triplets,” I confirm. “Because apparently the universe thinks I’m hilarious.”
Evelyn lets out a short breath that’s half laugh, half disbelief. “Shit. I thought I was holding the paper upside down.”
“Nope. That’s just my uterus. Currently hosting a clown car situation.”
She’s still staring at the image, her thumb brushing the edge as if she’s afraid it might vanish.
Then, softer: “You know… this store is chaos most of the time. Messy. Loud in a weirdly specific way. Kids knock things over, and teenagers sit in the poetry section pretending not to cry. And I think… maybe I like it that way.”
I smile. “Then maybe they’ll fit right in.”
