Forsaking All Others (From This Day Forward Book 2) by Shannon Myers

in until September eighth at ten,” she laughs humorlessly, “I guess there’s a lot of people around this town who are unsure of who knocked them up.”
    Jesus—three weeks? I was hoping it’d be done within a few days. In three weeks, I expected to have an answer. I get the location for the lab and get the hell off of the phone.
    I shut off the lights and beg sleep to come easily.
     

     
    The next morning, I stop and grab a couple of coffees on the way to my house. I called Beth first thing this morning and let her know that we were needed at the police station. She didn’t seem surprised by the revelation, but then again she watches enough television to expect this sort of thing to happen.
    Lauren’s car is gone when I pull up and park. I walk across the damp grass and balance the coffees in one hand while ringing the doorbell with the other. Our next door neighbor, Charles, is out in his front yard messing around the flower bed. He waves and then gives me a questioning look. He’s in his late sixties and prides himself on being the neighborhood watch program. Seriously, I doubt anyone else needs to participate as he seems to know everything that’s going on at all times.
    I smile and return the wave, “Hey Chuck—left my garage door opener so I’m locked out.” He hates when I call him Chuck, so I make it a point to do it often.
    He nods, but still keeps his eyes on me.
    Nosy bastard.
    Beth opens the door and I see that she’s dressed up for the occasion. She’s wearing dark wash jeans with a grey t-shirt and black blazer. Her hair is down and somewhat tame today. I swear, those blonde curls are my kryptonite.
    “Hey. I’m just going to grab my shoes and we can go.”
    She runs back into the bedroom and I set her coffee down on the kitchen counter while I wait.
    I grab my cup and sip the hot liquid, trying to force my exhausted brain to function. I tossed and turned all night with thoughts of Jess, Beth, and even Landon. Needless to say, I’ll be looking forward to a Saturday afternoon nap.
    Beth comes into the kitchen and immediately wrinkles her nose. “What is that smell? It smells like something is burning.”
    She sniffs the air and I hold up her coffee. “I got you coffee. Is that what you’re smelling?”
    She looks at the cup like it contains poison and begins gagging. I’m still trying to process what the hell is wrong with her when she calmly walks over to the sink and vomits.
    Her voice sounds strangled, “Please get rid of it. Throw it in the dumpster—whatever, just get it out of this house.”
    I walk out to the alley and throw the coffee in the dumpster, but not before noting that the lawn needs to be mowed. I’ll take care of that after we get back from the station.
    Beth is standing by the garage door, drinking water as though nothing is wrong.
    “Are you still sick from yesterday?”
    She swallows and nods, “Yeah, it must be like a twenty-four hour bug or something. I hope you don’t get it.”
    We ride to the police station in silence. I sip my coffee while she flips through the radio stations like most men (myself included) do with the T.V. remote. She finally settles on some god-awful pop radio station and hums quietly to herself.
    I take another sip of coffee and she rolls down the window, looking a little pale. “Beth, you okay? Feeling sick again?”
    She is turned so that the wind is blowing right into her face and I see her nod. I pull the car as far over onto the shoulder of the highway as I can and she stumbles out, vomiting into the grass and wildflowers growing on the side of the road. I slide across the seats and hold her hair back so she doesn’t get sick on herself.
    Beth wipes the back of her hand across her mouth when she finishes and I help her back into the truck. She closes her eyes and leans her head back against the seat.
    “Hopefully, this will be quick and I can get you home into bed. Maybe you just need to sleep it off.”
    She nods again and I