Out On a Limb

OutOnaLimbHannahBonam-Young
Copyright?2023byHannahBonam-Young
Allrightsreserved.
Noportionofthisbookmaybereproducedinanyformwithoutwrittenpermissionfromthepublisherorauthor,exceptaspermittedbyU.S.copyrightlaw.
ISBN:978-1-7780277-9-6
CoverIllustrationsbyMaryScarlettfrom@mscarlettcreative
TitlePageIllustrationbyKelseyfrom@myblogisgreat
EditedbyBethfromVBEdits@vb.edits.romanceContents
Author’sNote
TitleImage
Dedication
1.CHAPTER1
2.CHAPTER2
3.CHAPTER3
4.CHAPTER4
5.CHAPTER5
6.CHAPTER6
7.CHAPTER7
8.CHAPTER8
9.CHAPTER9
10.CHAPTER10
11.CHAPTER11
12.CHAPTER12
13.CHAPTER13
14.CHAPTER14
15.CHAPTER15
16.CHAPTER16
17.CHAPTER17
18.CHAPTER18
19.CHAPTER19
20.CHAPTER20
21.CHAPTER21
22.CHAPTER22
23.CHAPTER23
24.CHAPTER24
25.CHAPTER25
26.CHAPTER26
27.CHAPTER27
28.CHAPTER28
29.CHAPTER29
30.CHAPTER30
31.CHAPTER31
32.CHAPTER32
33.CHAPTER33
34.CHAPTER34
35.EPILOGUE
Acknowledgements
AlsoBy
AboutAuthorAuthor’sNote
&ContentWarnings
Onlyfivedaysaftermyfirstchildwasborn,IpostedthefollowingcaptiononInstagram…
“TheonlythingIhaveeverthoughtIcouldn’tdowithonehandwasbeagoodmom.Itmightnotberational,buteverytimeIheardsomeclichécommentaboutmomsneedingan‘extrasetofhands,’itwouldmakemystomachchurn.Growingup,therewereoftentimeswhenadultswouldn’tletmeholdtheirbabiesoutoffear,andatsomepoint,Itookthattoheart.Ihaveheldontothisinsecurity,andIdidn’treallyaddressituntilthisweek.Now,I’dliketosaythattenfingersareoverrated,becausethiskidandIhavegotagoodthinggoingonsofar.”
Ihadbeenamotherforlessthanaweek,andyetIfeltasifI’dexperiencedeverypossiblehumanemotionunderthesun.Iwasphysicallyandmentallyrecoveringfromatraumaticlabourexperienceanddifficultpregnancy.Mynippleshurt,mybodyached,andIwasconvincedmyvaginawouldneverbethesame.Andyet…Iwasso,soridiculouslyhappy.
Notjustbecauseofthetinybabywe’dbroughthome(who’sprettygreat),butbecauseIwaswrongtobeafraidBecausetheywerewrong.Iwasabsolutelycapableofbeingagoodmother.
I,likeWin,wasbornwithmylimbdifference.Ihavealess-developedrighthandthatisidenticaltoWin’sasdescribedinthisbook.AndwhileI’vetriedmybestthroughoutmylifetonotletitholdmeback,ithascertainlycreatedchallenges.I’vealwaysfoundmyselfattemptingtoperformthingsinprivatethatI’llbeexpectedtodoinpublic.Thingsassmallasbuttoninganewpairofpantsortypingtotakenotesinclass.I’vespenthoursuponhoursthinkingthroughdailyobstacles,comingupwithsmalladjustments,andplanningoutmydaysinagonisingdetailinordertoavoidanyawkwardnessorfailure.Then,IfoundoutIwaspregnant,andsuddenlyIfelttotallyandcompletelyunprepared.Iknewthatnothingcouldpreparemeforwhatcamenext,andIwasterrified…
Iwantedtowriteabookforanyonewho’sletfearoffailureslowthemdown.Notjustforthoseofuswhochoosetohavekids,orthoseofuswhoaredisabled,butforanyonewho’sbeenthrustintosomethingnewthattookthemsofaroutoftheircomfortzonetheynolongerrecognisedtheirpast,afraidself.Iwantedtowritesomethingabouttwopeoplewholoveeachothersomuchthatthey’reabletochangethenegativethoughtpatternsthey’veheldontoandembracetheirdifferencesfully.Whereloveisshowntobevalidating,kind,considerate,joyful,patient,andgentle.
Inthisbook,Wingoesonajourneytomotherhoodviapregnancy.Becauseherpregnancyisentirelyunexpected,IchosetoincludeconversationsbetweenWin,hermedicalteam,andhersupportsystemabouttheoptionofabortion.It’sworthnotingthatthisbookissetinCanada,whererightstoabortionarenotcurrentlyunderthreatastheyareelsewhere,andtherefore,heroptionsarelesslimited.Ultimately,Winchoosestokeepherbaby,butitfeltnecessarytoincludethosediscussions,giventhatthefundamentalrighttoaccesssafe,legalabortionsisbeingchallengednearconstantly.Win’schoiceisnotsuperior,norisshepressuredintoit.Win’schoiceisjustthat.Herchoice.
Toendthisnote,IjustwanttosaythatIknowthatpregnancyinromancenovelsisahottopic.It’snotforeveryone,andthat’sperfectlyokay.Butthisbookisalotmorethanaone-nightstandturnedbaby.It’saboutlearningtoletsomeoneseethemessy,needierpartsofyou.It’slearningtobelovedwellasyouareandaccepthelp.It’saboutchallengingexpectationsandovercomingobstacles.It’sdisabledjoy.Whichweallneedtoseemoreof,ifyouaskme.
IhopeyouloveBoandWinasmuchasIdo.
Allmylove,
HannahBonam-Young
ContentWarnings:Graphicsexualcontent,pregnancyandsymptomsofpregnancy,briefdiscussionofabortion(pro-choicestance,notperformed),ableisminreferencetoalimbdifference,verballyabusiveex-partner(noreappearance),deathofaparent(past,offpage)depressionandsuicide(past,offpage),cancer(past,notreoccurring),amputation(past,offpage).ForBen,foralwaysbeingmyrighthandman.
I’msorryyou’llneverwinatrock,paper,scissors.
Iloveyou.
CHAPTER1
“Didyouknowthissongmightbeaboutanorgy?”Iaskthewitchstandingnexttothepunchbowl,pointingtowardthespeaker.
“What?”sheshouts,usingtar-blacktalonstopullherwillowysilverwigawayfromherear.
“Thesong—’MonsterMash.’”Ipointtowardthespeakeragain.
“Whataboutit?”sheasks,louder.
“Anorgy!”Iyelljustasthemusiccomestoanabruptstop—myfriendandhostoftheevening,Sarah,hoppingontoadiningchairtoaddressherguests
“No,thanks…”Witchwomansendsdaggersmywayassheslowlyturnsaroundandwalks,funnilyenough,towardthearchwaydecoratedinbloodiedweapons.
“Youshouldbesolucky,”ImutterundermybreathasIfillmycupwithanundisclosedneon-greensubstance,avoidingthefloatingcandiedeyeballssuccessfully.
Sarah,mylifelongbestfriend,isgivingheryearlythankyousomuchforcomingtomyHalloweenparty;it’stheonlythingIcareaboutspeechwhileI’mdebatingaboutwhetheranyoneissecretlykeepingtrackofhowmanyhot-dog-mummiesI’veeatenthusfar.
Nah.AndsoIreachforanother.
“Aye-ayeCaptainWinnifred!”
Fuck,I’vebeenspotted.Idropthemummyintomydrinkandcoverthetopofmycupwithmyhand.
“Youokay?”Caleb,Sarah’shusband,asks,eyeingmycupwithsuspicion.
“Neverbeenbetter,”Ichimesweetly.“It’sanothersuccessfulyear,”Isay,admiringtheirhome,decoratedwithprofessionalprecision.
Calebdoesthesame,andwhenhisexpressionturnstosubtleprideandadmirationforhiswife’swork,Iplaceabettotheuniversethatthenextthreewordsoutofhismouthwillbe…
“AnythingSarahwants,”wesayinunison.Hesmilesintothetopofhisbeerwithahintofguiltyshyness,butmostlyresolve.SarahandCalebmetintheninthgrade.He’sbeencarryinghertextbooks,literallyandmetaphorically,since.
IloveCaleb.He’slikeabrothertome.Abrother-in-lawifSarahandIwereactuallysisterslikeweusedtoboldlyclaim(see:lie)inschool.Turnsout,accordingtoaDNAtestafewyearsback,we’refourthcousinsonceremoved.Sarahsimplysayswe’recousinsnow,whengiventhechance.
“Youknow,myfriendRobbieishere.IthoughtImightintroduceyou,”Calebsaysafteralongsipofhisbeer.
Yeah,absolutelynot.
I’vebeensuccessfullyavoidingtheguysCalebwantstosetmeupwithsincemydatewithhisbuddyfromworkWinstoncriedwhiledescribinghis—verymuchalive—motherandthe“beautifulbond”theyshared.Healsobroughtmeanorchid,whichcouldhavebeenasweetgesture—Idoloveplants.Unfortunately,itwasinalargeceramicbowlwithrocksandbark,anditweighedaton.Icouldn’tjustputitontheground,lestaservertripoveritandmeetanuntimelydeath,soithadtositonthetablebetweenus—blockingourviewofoneanother.Then,afteradulldinner,Ihadtocarryithomewithme,clingingtoitinthebackofthetaxiasIwroteakindbutfirmlet’snotdothisagaintext.
Ifanything,thatdateonlysolidifiedmydesiretoremaincasualandsticktodatingappswhereIcouldproperlyvetthemenformyself.
“Maybelater,”IanswerCaleb.“I’mjustwaitingtotalktoourhostess.”ItiltmychintowardSarah,who’sdressedasthePrincessButtercuptoCaleb’sWestley.
“Okay,fine.Thisoneisdifferent,though.Heevenhasadeadmom,”Calebaddsfartooexcitedly.
“Oh,bonus!”Isay,matchinghisenergy.“Ilovewhentheirmomisdead.Itmakesthingssomucheasieraroundtheholidays.”
Caleblaughs,turningtofillacupwithlimepunch.“Here.”Heholdsitouttomebeforetakingmymummifieddrinkandtossingitintothetrashcan.“Eathowevermuchyouwant,Win.”
Itakethedrink,leaningtowardhim.“Thatmightbethesexiestthingyouhaveeversaidtome,Caleb.”
Justthen,someoneslapsmyass.“Isheflirtingwithyouagain?God,I’vetoldyoubothsomanytimes—ifyou’regoingtohaveanaffair,atleastbediscreet.”
“Buttercup!Soniceofyoutojoinus,”Isay,smilingbroadly.
“Lovethecostume…again”Sarahsighs,pointingwithalimpwristtomyelaboratepirateget-up.
“UntilIgrowahand,thiswillstillbeprimecomedy.”Ijabherboobwithmyhookuntilshegiggles,swattingmeaway.
“Wehavetogotalktoabunchofpeople,butdoyouwanttosleepovertonight?Imadeupthesparebedroomand—”
“Yes,Iwillhelpcleanup.Idoiteveryyear,babe,”Iinterrupt.“Go!Entertainyourmasses.”
Sarahjumblesthewordsthank-you-you’re-the-bestintoonelongsequenceasshetugsCalebawaylikeanextremelywillingpuppyonaleash.
“Greatcostumes,”anexceptionallydrunkwomandressedasaredcrayonslurs,walkingtowardme.Thebluecrayonnexttoheradds,“Thinkyoumightwinthecouples’contest,”astheypassby.
Couplescostume?Me?SingleWinnie?Puh-lease.
TheymusthavemistakenCalebforapirateandmybetrothed.WestleywastheDreadPirateRoberts,afterall.Soit’snotafar-offpresumption.Butmypiratestyleisalotmoreofyourclassicwench-whore.Myboobsarepracticallyearringsatthisheight,andmyfishnetstockingsarerippedfromyearsofre-wear,givingthemtheperfectaccidentallysluttylook.Mywaistiscinchedwithawidepleatherbelt,andI’vetiedaredbandannaaroundmyshoulder-lengthblackhair.That’sanewadditionaftermyaccompanyingpirate’shatwaslostduringlastyear’sdebauchery.Maysherestinpeace
Iwillkeepwearingthiscostumeuntilthejokegetsold.Thatwasn’talie.Butit’salsobecause—let’sbereal—Ilookhotinit.Additionally,I’mtoobroketobuysomethingnew.Butlet’snottalkaboutthat.
There’sanotherlayerofSarah’sgenius.Lockdownthecutestcomputergeekasearlyaspossible,makethemfallmadlyinlovewithyou,andthenwaitforthemtobecomefilthyrich.NowSarah’sthefunfriendfulltime.Partyhostess,eventplanner,voraciousreader,achildlesshousewifewithamaid.She’scurrentlytryingtodecidebetweenthemesformythirtiethbirthdayparty,whichstillisn’tforanothereighteenmonths.
“Pardonme?”alow,sardonicvoicecallsfrombehindme,makingmeturn.
Oh,thereheis.TheotherpirateI’vebeenunknowinglypairedwith.Thoughthisone,Iwouldcertainlynotmakewalktheplank.
Myfirstthought?He’stall.Reallytall.Asifhisbodywasstretchedoutwitharollingpinbeforebeingplacedintowhatevermagicalgoldenboyovenhewasbakedin.He’sgotthattousled,nineties-boy-band,middle-partedhairthat’ssuddenlybackinstyle.It’sdarkblond,whichIcanchoosetoforgive.Hehasacrookedsmilethatsaysgetoutwhileyoucanunderanot-crookedbutruggednoseandsofteyes.Thejuxtapositionofwhichisstrikinglyadorable.
“I’msosorry,”hesayswithoutanysincerity,“butoneofushastochange.”
“Ohmygod,”Isay,flatteningmyskirtbeforerestingmyhandsonmywaist.“Thisissoembarrassing…Whataretheodds?”
“Right?Imeanthere’snowayeitherofusiswinningthesinglescostumecontestthiswayand”—heleansintowhisperbybendingoveratthewaist,andhe’sstilltallerthanme—“I’mnotwearinganythingunderthis.”
Ifightthelaugh,notwantingthisbittoend.Isorarelygetanewsparringpartner.Neveronethiscute.
“Well,that’sunfortunate.Youshouldhaveplannedbetter.Ihaveafewcostumesunderthisone.”
Thecornerofhisliptwitches,butheseemstoresistgivingmeanyreactionbeyondthat.Challengeaccepted.
“Suchas?”heasks,crossinghisarmsoverhischest.
“AViking,”Ianswer.
“Nowthatyoumentionit,Idoseeahornpeekingoutjustalittle.”Hemotionstothesideofmyheadwithabentfinger.
“That’sactuallystandardissueforallofSatan’sspawn,butIcouldseehowyougotconfused.”
“Concerning.Whatelse?”
“Asexymaid,ofcourse,”Isay,battingmylashes.
“Well,thatIhavetosee,”hequipsbackfartooquickly.
Here,Ithink,iswhereIwinthelaugh-offwe’repretendingnottohave.Shockvaluealwayswins.
“ButImustinsistonkeepingthepiratecostume,I’mafraid.Yousee”—Iletgoofthehook’sinnerhandleandpullitawayinmylefthand,revealingmysmaller,less-developedrighthandunderneath—“Iaminneedofahook.”Iwaveathimmockingly,mytiny,curledfingers,shorterthanthefirstknuckle,wagglingasbestastheycan.
Hedoesn’tbreaklikeIwanthimto.Buthedoesgrinmischievously.Hiseyescracklewithhumour,pullingmeinataconcerningspeed.I’dbefrustratedifhisexpressionwasn’tsodamnintriguing.Somethingabouthisamusementsignalsthat,perhaps,he’sonestepaheadofme.
“Oh,Isee.Well,then…maybewecancometosomesortofcompromise.”Hesticksouthisfootbetweenus.
You’vegottobejoking.CHAPTER2
He’sgotaprostheticleg.It’scovered,loosely,inavinylstickermadetolooklikewood,thekindyou’dusetolineyourkitchenshelves,givingtheillusionofapirate’speg-legunderneathblacktrousershehastiedupatthekneewiththin,cordedleatherrope.
“Goddammit!”Iyell.Whichfinallygetshimtolaugh.Andit’sagreatonetoo.Ahearty,deep,boisteroussoundfromthebackofhisthroatthatmakeshisjawtenseandhisneckjump.Uninhibited.And,dareIsay,sexy.
“IreallyfeltlikeIwasgoingtowinthisround,”Isay,myvoiceunsteady.
Hehasn’tstoppedlaughing—harderthanIam,actually.I’mnotusedtothat,andit’shonestlyrefreshing.I’vebeentoldIlaughobnoxiouslyloud.Somehaveevengonesofarastocomparemetoababysealcallingforitsmother.Somemeaningmorethanoneperson—intwoseparateinstances—haveexpressedthatexactsentiment.
“Thisisacouple’scostume.Thecrayonswereright,”Isaythroughbreathlessfitsofjoy.
Heclutcheshischestasiftosteadyhimself,hislaughterfinallybeginningtodiedown.ThenI’mtreatedtotheviewofaboyish,tiltedsmileandsincereeyessweepingovermefromheadtotoeandbackagain.
Iwonderifhelikeswhathesees.Actually,I’mhopinghelikeswhathesees.BecauseIcertainlylikewhathe’sgotgoingon.Thelongerhelooksmeupanddown,themoreIconsiderhimapprovingofmyappearance.
Myblacknot-quite-straightbutnot-quite-curlyshoulder-lengthhair.Mythineyebrowsfrommercilesspluckinginmyteenageyears.Mysharp-edgednose,withasimplegoldpiercingontheleftnostril,setbetweenglacierblueeyes.Mybodyisshovedandtuckedintothiscostumetopropupmytitsandshrinkmywaist,butthat’smostlyillusion.
Iwoulddescribemyframeasfairlyaverage.Ienjoylongwalks,swimming,anddancing,butIequallyloverainydaysplasteredtothecouch,pastries,andoverlysweetenedcoffees.Myarmsandbackarestrongandsculptedfromyearsoftraininginbutterflyandbreaststrokes,butmyhipsandstomachholdthepleasureofawell-fed,comfortablewoman.Idon’ttrytoforcemybodytobesomethingordepriveitofpleasantries.Itjustis.AndIlikeit,enough,asis.
Butwhatdoesthisseeminglyperfectspecimenbeforemelooklikeonanaverageday?Hestrikesmeassomeonewhogrewupbeautiful.ThesmalltiltofarroganceofhischincombinedwiththenaivesweetnessinhissmilethatIwishwasn’tsodisarming.He’sprobablyafoottallerthanme,andIcan’thelpbutwonderhowhardI’dhavetoyankonhispleatedpirateblousetobringhislipsdowntomine.
“I’mBo.”Heextendshislefthand—whichmybodyhearsaswouldyoulikemetofuckyou?Becausethere’snothingmoreawkwardthanshakingwithmyrighthandandnothingmoreattractivethanamanwhocouldhaveanticipatedthat.
Ishakehishandenthusiastically.“Win.”
“Isthatshortforsomething?”heasks,droppinghishandandslidingitintohistrouserpocket.
“Winnifred,butnoonereallycallsmethat.Whataboutyou?”Imakeapointtoemphasisethestretchofmyneck,staringupathimasifhe’ssomesortoffairy-talegiant.“Areyoutallforsomething?”
Hecan’tstoplaughingnow.Ican’tstopwantingtomakehim.
“What?”heasks,eyeslitwithenjoyment.
“Seriously,whatareyou?Ninefeettall?”
“Six.”
“Sixwhatthough?”
“Six-five.”
“Wildlyunnecessaryfordailylife.Doyouplaybasketball?”
“Eh,usedto.”Hissmilefaltersonlyatouch—butInotice.Inotice,too,thathe—perhapssubconsciously—movestorubhisknee,justabovewherehisprosthesisbegins.
Iwince.“Sorry,”Iofferplainly.“Iwasbornwithmyhand.SoIstupidlyforgetotherpeople—”
“Noworries,”heinterruptsme,smilingwithhischinpushedout.
“Iruinedthat.Butthiswasnicebeforethen,wasn’tit?”
Helooksaway,smirkingyetvisiblyshy,hiseyesshiftingandhisbodysoftlyswaying.“Itcanstillbenice.Icouldeventhescore?Makefunofyourhand,ifyou’dlike?”heoffers,clearlyunserious.
“Yes,pleasedo.Thatwouldactuallyhelpalot,”Isay,callinghisbluff
Heturnstofaceme,staringmedownwithcrescenteyesandanever-growingsmilethathasthebloodrushingtothesurfaceofmyskin.Iraiseabrowinchallengewhenheappearstobecalculatinghisnextsteps,hisheadtiltingtotheside.
“Allright.”Boholdsouthispalm,thencrookstwofingers,gesturingformetomovecloser.“Letmeseeitthen.”
InarrowmyeyesonhimplayfullyasIpresentmysmallerhandtohim,placingitinhisopenpalmthatisaboutdoublethesizeofmine.Iswallowonimpact,thebrushingofourskinshootingsparksupmyveins.
“Shit…”hewhispersunderhisbreath,turningitoverwithagriponmywristthatIlove.“It’sadorable,”hesays,studyingitintently.Thenhetutsandletsgo,practicallytossingitaside.“WhatamIsupposedtosay?”
“Right?”Iagree,throwingbotharmsupintheair.“It’simpossibletomakefunof.It’stoodamncute.It’sofficial.I’veruinedtheevening.”
“ThebestIhadwasasarcastic‘nicehand,FindingNemo,’butthat’ssortofendearing,isn’tit?”
“He’sanicon,”Iagree.
“Ilovedthatlittlefish.”Herubsthebackofhisneck,lookingpastthearchwayandhallwaytoourleft.“Wanttosit?”
Inod,leadingthewaytothetuftedyellowtwo-seatercouchinSarah’sden.ThewallsarecoveredinSarah’smanybooksandmapsofvariouslakesupinNorthernOntario.It’sacottage-inspiredroom.Becauserichpeoplehavethemedpartiesandrooms.
“SohowdoyouknowSarahandCaleb?”Iask,curlingmylegsundermetofacehim.ThisclosetoBo,Icanseethathiseyesarehazelwiththesmallestsmatteringofgreen.He’sgotmorestubblethanIoriginallynoticed,butthat’sbecauseit’sfairerthanhishair.Healsosmellsverygood.Likecinnamonandsomethingelsethat’smuskyandwarmanddeliciousLikesomeonewhocouldbuildacampfireandbakemeabirthdaycaketoo.
Ikeepstudyinghimunabashedly.Ican’thelpit,soIdon’tresist.And,eventually,whenmyeyesleavehissurprisinglyattractivecollectionofcostumeringsbelowhisblackpaintednails,Irealisehe’slookingstraightdownmyblouse.He’sdoingsomeunabashedadmiringofhisown.
Ismiletomyself,prideliftingmyshouldersand,inturn,mychest.IgivehimafewmoresecondsofleeringbeforeIclearmythroatdelicately.
“Sorry.”Heshakeshimself.“Whatdidyousay?”Heblinkslikeacaught,guiltyman.
“Shameless!”Icryout,laughing.“Youogledme.”
Hechucklesnervously.“Iknow,fuck,sorry.I’venever—well,I’veneverforgottentopretendI’mnotcheckingsomeoneoutbefore.”Hecringesbashfully,thecornerofhislipsstillupturned.
“Thiscostumehasanintendedpurpose.”Ishrug,fiddlingwiththehemofmyskirt.
“Ireallyamsorry.I’mnot—”
“Howdotheylook?”Iask,interruptinghim.
Helooksuptotheceilingasifhe’ssearchingforsomedeitytohelphimhandleme.Ilikethatalot.
Iwatchasaslowsmileforms,thecornerofhisbottomliptuckedbetweenhisteeth.“They,likeeveryotherpartofyou,lookgreat,”hesaysslowly.Nowit’shisturntoclearhisthroatwhenI’mleftblushingwithmyeyesstuckonhisface.“But…whatdidyouask?”
Ifumble,forgettingeverythingIsaid.ButwhenIlookaroundtheroom,blinkinguntilIfocusonmysurroundings,IrememberwhosehouseI’minand,therefore,whatIasked.“HowdoyouknowSarahandCaleb?”
Boshufflesbackagainstthecouch,hishandplayingmindlesslywiththeloose,ruffledcollarofhisshirt,tuggingitawayfromhisneck.“CalebandImetthroughamutualfriendaboutsixyearsago.Wereconnectedearlierthisyearforaworkthing.He’sagoodguy.Whataboutyou?”
“I’veknownSarahmywholelife.Ourmomswerebestfriendsinhighschoolandtheybothgotknockedupaccidentallyduringtheirsenioryear.Theyraisedustogetheraspseudo-siblings.”
“Damn,soyou’veknownCalebsince—”
“Gradenine,yeah,”Iinterrupt.“Weallwenttothesamehighschool.I’vebeenthirdwheelin’eversince.”
“Thirdwheeling,”herepeats.“So,you’renot…”Hissmilequirkstooneside.“Iwasgoingtoaskifyouwereherewithanyone,butletmerephrase.IstheresomeonewhowoulddeckmeforcheckingyououtthewayIjustdid?”
“Nope.”Icovermysmilewithacurledpointerfinger,tracingmyknucklealongmylipbeforeIgathermyconfidenceonceagain.“Noone.Hereorinanyroom.”ThatsoundedalotmoresuggestivethanIintended,butitworksinmyfavourwhenInoticehissmileinchingbackupandhiseyesdartingtomylipsforasecond.
“Anyroom.”Henods,chintiltedup.“Noted”
“Whataboutyou?HaveagirlfriendIshouldknowabout?”Iaskbeforeswallowing.
HelooksoffendedthatI’devensuggestsuchathing,hisbrowsjoltingupward.“No!”
“You’dnotbethefirstunavailableguytoacttotallyavailable,”Iargue.Myex,forone,didthatoften
“Fair.”Hesettlesdown.“No,nogirlfriend.Hereorinanyroom,”hetaunts.
“Right.”Igetcomfortable,leaningagainstthecouch—pushingmybreaststogether,whichBobrieflymakesnoteof.“Then…tellmeaboutyourself.Whoareyou?”
“Whydoesthatquestionalwaysfeelsointimidating?”Hebrusheshisknucklesagainsthischeek,swipinghisthumbalonghisjaw.
“Becausehumanexperiencecannotbesummedupinafewsentences,”Ioffer,“butit’sstillpolitetotry.”
Henods,side-eyeingmeinatotallycurious,stirringwaythatseemseffortlesstohimdespitethewayitmakesmyheartpound“Fairenough,”hebegins.“I’mtwenty-nine.I’mafinancialanalyst.”Heputsupahand,asiftostopmefrominterrupting—whichIwasgoingto.“Iknow,it’sarivetingcareerchoice,butIactuallyloveit.”Hescratcheshisnosewiththebackofhisthumb,lookingsidewaysacrosstheroom.“I’manonlychild,”headds.“MyfatherlivesinFrance,soIdon’tseehimallthatoften.Buthe’s,ratherpathetically,mybestfriend.MymotherpassedawaywhenIwasyoung.”Helaughsdryly,asifmaybehe’sunsureofwhetherhe’soversharing.
“Uh…Iworkedasabaristathroughuniversity,anditmademeagonisinglypretentiousaboutcoffee.WhenIwasateenager,Ireadabookabouthealthybrainhabits,andnowIdoasudokupuzzleeverydaybecauseI’mparanoidaboutmybrainrotting.Myfavouriteanimalsaredogs,butI’veneverhadoneasapet.Um,myfavouritecolourispurple?”heasks,asifhe’sunsureofwheretostop.
“Thatwasgreat,thankyou,”Isay.
“Yeah?Ipass?”
“Yes,veryinformative.ThoughIdohavesomefollow-upquestions.”
“Don’tyouhavetotellmeaboutyourselffirst?”Boasks,raisingonebrow.
“Oh,right,okay,”Isay,reachingforthecupthatIplacedonthetableinfrontofus.
Bowaitsformetospeak,hiseyesintentlyfocusedasheleansfartheragainstthebackofthecouch.
“I’mtwenty-eight.”Itakeasipofmydrink.“Iworkatacafé,soI’malsoabitofacoffeesnob.Iworkasalifeguardseasonally,whichIlove.I’dspendmywholelifeoutdoorsifIcould.MymotherusedtoaffectionatelyrefertomeasherpetsquirrelbecauseofthatandbecauseItendtohoardthings.Currently,that’splants.MymomlivesinFloridanowwithastringofboyfriendswhoareniceenough…Itrytovisitheronceayear,butwearen’texactlyclose.Inevermetmydad.And…”Itrytothinkofonelastthing.“Oh,myfavouritecolourisgreen.”
“Well,it’sgoodtomeetyou,Fred.”
“Pleasedon’tcallmethat,”Isayforcibly,halfjoking.
“What?Whynot?”Helookscomicallyoffended.
“It’snotaparticularlysexyname,”Isay.“Winnifredisbadenough,butFred?Isoundlikethecreepyuncleyoudon’tinvitetoThanksgiving.”
“Agreetodisagree.”
“Imaginecryingout‘Fred’inthebedroom.”Hissmirkgrows,andIglareathim,decidingtomakemypointclear.“Oh,Fred.”Imoan.“Yes,Fred!”Icry,probablyabittooloudly,infakepassion.“It’sawful.”Afewoftheotherpartyguests,confusedandperhapsthetiniestbitoffended,turntowardus.Isalutethembeforetheygobacktotheirownconversations,myeyesheldonBo.
It’shorriblycliché,buthissmileisbeaming—farbrighterthanthesun.Ifeelmyselfbloomwithit,asifit’smyownpersonalversionofphotosynthesis.
“Whyareyoulookingatmelikethat?”Iask,feelingsuddenlyshy.
“You’refunny,”hesaysmatter-of-factly,hisexpressionremaining.
Huh.
Idomybesttolookaroundtheroom,pretendingtheotherguestsandtheircostumesaresuddenlymuchmoreinterestingtome.I’mhyperawarethatI’mblushingatthecomplimentandwishing,desperately,thatIcouldstop.
WhenIdofinallylookback,Bo’sattentionisfocusedonthebackofthetuftedcouch.Withhishandaroundthetopofmyseat,thetipofhisthumbtracesoneofthefabricbuttonsinasmall,circularmotionoverandover.
Ishouldn’tbeaffectedbyit,andI’lldenyitifeverconfronted,butthere’ssomethinginherentlysexualaboutthemotion.Iwatch,feelingfartooenraptured,ashecirclesthebuttontenderly.Mythroattensesasmylipspart,imagininghisthumbworkingmeoverinasimilarway.It’sbeenmonthssinceadatewentwellenoughthatIallowedamantotouchmelikethat—notthatitwasallthatgreatwhenhedid.Still,judgingbytherattlingofstutteredbreathsinmychest,IthinkI’dletBogiveitatry.
“So,”Bosays,draggingmygazefromthebuttontowardhisface,“you’renotherewithanyone…”
“Isthataquestion?”Iask,regainingmyvoicewithanoticeablerasp.
Herollshiseyes.Ilikethattoo.
“Isuppose,”heelongatestheword,“thequestionis:why?”
“Oh,sowe’vegottentothewhatareyourfaults?partoftheevening?”Iask.
“Iwasthinkingmorealongthelinesofhowissomeonelikeyousingle?butsure,”hesays.
“Ah,well,thanks.”Despitemysarcasm,Ifeelmyfaceheatagainandcursemyselfforit.Threeblushesinoneevening?Ithastobearecord.OnethatIhopetoneverbeat.“Honestly,theanswerisn’tallthatinteresting.I’mjustnotlookingforanythingpermanent.I’vebeentoldbySarahthatI’mindependenttoafault.”
WhatIdon’tsayisthatIgrewupwatchingmymombringhomeloserafterloser,knowingdamnwellwe’dallbebetteroffwithoutthem.Itonlytookherboyfriendsafewweeksintodatingbeforetheystartedactingliketheyhadsomesortofauthorityoverher—our—life.Theyusuallystartedoffsmall,likemymom’sfavouritebrandofcoffeebeingswitchedoutfortheirpreference.Thenitslowlyescalated.Oursoap-operaeveningmarathonsbecamewell,sweetie,thegameison.Whydon’tyougofinishupyourhomeworkinyourroom?Orno,we’renothavingtacostonight.Insert-boyfriend’s-name-heredoesn’tlikethem.Then,eventually,they’dleave,andwe’dreset.Sarah,hermom,andIwouldenjoythebriefinterimbeforeMom’snextmancamethrough,andthenwe’dlookafterMomwhenthatinevitablywenttoshitagainBecauseofthis,IlearnedquicklythatinordertopreservethelifeIwanted,Ihadtoavoidinvitingamanin.
But,likemosthopeless-romanticidiots,Iforgotmyself-appointedgoldenruleinmyearlytwentiesandmovedinwithmyboyfriendJack—whowantedeverythinghiswayanddidn’tcarehowhehadtoacttohaveit.That,ofcourse,alsoendedterribly.I’vebeenpickingupthepiecessince.Myself-esteemandlifeplansarestill,mostly,inshambles.
“Whataboutyou?”Iask.“Insearchofawife?”
“No.”Bolaughsout,hiseyesflickinguptotheceilingmomentarily.“Iamnot.”
“Well,that’scertainly…compatible.”Ichewmybottomlip,hopinghecatchesmynot-so-subtlesuggestion.
Hecatchesit,allright,andstaresatmealittletoolong.TothepointwhereIstarttofeelmyheartbeatpulsatinginmyneck.Iwantedthisresponse,sure,butforsomereason,fromBo,itfeelsalittleoverwhelming.Perhapsit’sthewayhiseyessearchmyfacelikehe’stryingtoplaceme.Likewe’vemetbefore.Ormaybeasifhecan’tbelievewehaven’t.
Whateverthislookis,Ineedittostop.It’scausingtoomuchbloodtorushtomyhead—makingmewarmandflusteredanddizzy.
“Ilikeyourpirate’sleg,”Isayinatrulyhorrificattempttotaketheattentionoffme.“I-Imeant—yourcostume.Notjustyourleg,obviously.Thewholething,”Isay,floundering.
“Oh,well,good.Iwasworriedyouonlywantedmeformylegforasecond,”heteases.
Ichoosetoignorehisflippantuseofthewordswantedmeandtakeasharpturnawayfrommyblunder.“Hasthathappenedtoyouyet?”Iask,reachingformydrink,prayingitcancoolmeoff.“IgotadoozyofamessagelastweekonInstagram.Reese24toldmehisdickwouldlookhugeinmybaby-hand.”
“Ohmygod.”Bo’sfacedistortsashelaughsinhorror.
“Yep.”
“That’ssomanylayersoffucked-up.”
“Truly.”
“But…”Boliftstwopalms,mimickingatiltingscale.
“No,”Isay,punctuatedbyashockedlaugh.“No.Don’tyoudare.”
“Imean,”hiseyesturnteasingasheshrugs,“he’sright.Itprobablywould.”
“Ohmygod.”
“Itwoulddoagreatdealfortheego.Reese24maybeontosomething.”
“Awful,”Isputterthroughalaugh.“You’rebothawful.”IcurlmylipsuptomynoseliketheroomstinksasBositsbackcomfortably,hisarmonceagainrestingbehindme.
WecontinuetomakesmalltalkforenoughtimethatSarah’splaylisthasnowreplayed‘MonsterMash’twice.Bolaughsatmytheoryaroundthesong,unlikewitchwoman,andeventuallydecideshe’llneedtodohisownresearchwithathoughtfulanalysisofthelyricsoncehegetshome.Thepartyisstartingtodiedownwhenourconversationdoestoo.Aslowfadetocontentedquietandathirdroundofdrinksfetchedbyme.
But,oddlyenough,ourlullinconversationisn’tuncomfortable.I’vebeenonplentyofdateswherethebanterstopsflowingandit’seasiertoeithercallitquitsortakethingsbacktosomeone’sapartmentthanitistowaitforthenextquippyexchangetorollin.Buttonight,there’snoshortageoftopicsandnofearofsomeforced,humourlessconversation.
Thesequietreprievesfeelmorelikeintermissions.Asifwe’reperformingforeachother.Takingturnsbeingtheentertainmentandtheentertained.Keepingeachotherlaughing.Keepingeachotherguessing.It’sfun,andpartofmewisheswehadmoretimebeforeSarahandCalebdecidetokickeveryoneoutforthenight.ButmaybeIcouldconvincehimtostayalittlelonger.
GiveneverythingI’velearnedaboutBosofar,I’llhavetotakethelead.He’ssocompletelyunawareofhisowncharmit’scomical.He’sshy,almost.Icouldseehimaskingformynumber,butIdoubthe’dbeboldenoughtoaskmebacktohisplace.Which,I’vedecided,iswhatIwanttodo.
“Isthisawig?”
Idon’tnoticeuntilIfeelthebackofBo’sfingerbrushmycheek,buthe’sholdingastrandofmyhairbetweenhisthumbandpointerfinger,twiddlingitmindlessly.
“No,that’sallme.”Igulpashisthumbgrazestheundersideofmychin.
Hecontinuestwistingmyhairthroughhisfingers,curlingitaroundthebacksofhisknucklesasifit’sasnakehe’scharmed.Ifighttheurgetocrawlintohislapandpurr.
“Sorry,”hewhispers,wettinghislips.Inoticethathedoesn’tletgo,however.
“Idon’tmind,”Ianswersoftly.WhatIshouldsayis:keeptouchingme.Anywhereyou’dlike.
“It’sbeautiful,”hetellsme,lookingatmewithanunsteadyinglackofhumour.Hereleasesmyhairandleansback,takingalongbreaththatflareshisnostrils.“I’vehadtoomuchpunch,probably.”
“Ireallydidn’tmind.”Ileanin,tryingtocatchhisgaze.Attemptingtopleawithhim,silently,toaskformore.Butit’snouse.He’ssogorgeous,yetclearlyobliviousofthatfact.It’sasendearingasitisfrustrating
SoIdecideenoughisenough.Icantakecharge.I’mamodernwoman,dammit.IcangoafterwhatIwant,evenifIdon’texactlypractisethatconceptinmydailylife.Icandothis
“Bo,wouldyouliketogoupstairswithme?”Iask,myvoiceatouchlouderthanintendedafterforcingmyselftospeakwithconfidence.
Hiseyeswideninsurprise,andhisheadtilts.“Upstairs?”
Ididn’tcountonhavingtorepeatmyself.Orclarify.Ifeellikecoveringmyfacewithacouchcushion,butscrewit.I’minitnow.“Wouldyou,maybe,liketogohavesexwithme?Ihavearoomhere,”Iexplain,tryingmybesttokeepmyspinestraightinordertonotshrinkintomyself.Theillusionofconfidenceiskey.
“Here?”Hisbrowtwistsinconfusion.
“Yes?”
“Do—doyoulivehere?”
“No,Ijuststayherealot.”Iwaitafewseconds,hopinghe’llputmeoutofmymisery,butheappearsfaroffandalittlestunned.WasItrulymisinterpretingallofthis?I’vebeenoffbefore,butneverthismuch.Thisseemedlikeasurething.
Helaughsnervously,hisheadhanging.“Uh,actually,um—”
Blametheneonpunch,Itellmyself.“Sorry.ForgetIsaidanything.”Iwilllietomyselfinordertomovepastthis.Boisavirgin.Celibateduetohissolemnlifelongvow.I’vebeenthemosttemptingofferhe’severhad,buthemuststaystrong.It’snotme.It’snotme!It’snot—
“No,”hesaysalittletooforcefully.“Don’t—don’tforgetit.Uh,sorry,it’sjust”—heshakeshishead—“Ihaven’tsince…”Hiseyesfalltowherehishandrestsonhisknee,rightabovewherehisprosthesisbegins.
Ah.
Ishouldthink.IshouldabsolutelythinkbeforeIspeak.ButIdon’t.Irarelydo,unfortunately.“Didsomethinghappentoyour…?”IfinishthesentenceInevershouldhavespokenbypointingtohislap.
WinnifredJuneMcNulty,youcannotaskpeopleiftheirjunkisbroken.Whatiswrongwithyou?
“Oh,no.Nothing.Topshape.”Hewincesathischoiceofwords.Orperhapsjusttheconversationoverall.
Ihavetofixthis.I’mnotthisperson—theonewhopriesandfumblesandmakessomeonefeeluncomfortableabouttheirbodyoritsdifferences.Icannotbethatperson.That’dmakemeamassivehypocrite.
Iapproachgently,restingmyhandontopofhis.“ThenI’msureit’snotallthatdifferent.”Ihesitate,waitingforhimtomakeeyecontactwithme.“I’mwillingtotry,ifyouare.Itcouldbealotoffun.”
Heturnstofaceme,andhiseyesaredarkened,enlargedpupilsandtight-knitbrow.“Whywasthatsohot?”heasks,whispering,hisvoiceneardisbelief.
Thereitis,Ithink.Asliverofmypridereturns
“Themomentyoushookmyhandwithyourleft,Iwasreadytodothis.”Ibitedownonmysmile.“Iimagineit’ssomethingsimilartothat?KnowingIgettheholdup,tosomeextent?”
Hiseyesdipdowntomylipsagainashenods,eyesentrancedandglistening
“Sowhatwillitbe?”Iask,leaningcloseenoughthatIcancounttheexactnumberoffrecklesonhischeeksthatspreadacrosshisnoselikeabridgebetweenthem.“BecauseifIhavetoinquireagain,Imayattempttodrownmyselfinthepunchbowl.”
Withouthesitation,Boclosesthedistancebetweenusandkissesme,tenderandbrief,withhishandacrossmyjaw.Hislipsareplushandwarmanddamnnearintoxicating.“Yes,”hesays,inhalinghungrily,hisforeheadpressedagainstmine.Helaughslowly,tuckingastrandofmyhairbehindmyearbeforelettingthesamehanddragdownmyneck,shoulder,andarm.“C’mon,”hesays,takingmyhandinhisashemovesawaytostand.
“Wait,”Isay,pullinghimback.“I’mgoingtogoupstairsfirst.I’llmakesurenooneelsehasgottenthesameideaandisdefilingtheguestbedroom.Yougotothekitchenandgetussomewaterorsomething.It’sthelastdoorontheleft.”
“Okay.”Henodseagerly,afewtoomanytimesformyliking.ItremindsmeofCaleb’spuppy-dogwillingness,causingaquickthrillofpanictocoursethroughme.
Ican’thandleonemoreguybeingtooniceinthebedroom.Ineedtoknowthatallthischemistrybetweenuswon’tfizzleoutthemomentwegetupstairs.
“Bo,canyoupromisemesomething?”Iask.
Hisbottomlippushesoutashenodsagain,lesseagerly.“Sure?”
“Ineedyoutopromisemethatwe’llbothenjoytonight.I’vehadastringoflousyhookupsthisyear,andifIhavetofakeanotherorgasm,IthinkI’llbelegallyrequiredtobecomeanunorsomething.”Ibitemylip,anxiousthatIperhapsamaskingtoomuchfromhim,anearperfectstranger.
Hedoesn’tbataneye,buthisboyishgrincomesbackinfull,brutalforce.“Win,ifyouwalkoutofthatroomsturdierthanme,Iwon’tbehappy.”
Alegjoke?Bestillmybeatingheart
IcovermymouthasIgasp,asingularlaughbreakingthrough.“Youdidnot.”
“Idid,”hesays,relaxingbackonthecouch.Heraiseshishandbacktomyhairagain,playingwithitashiseyesfallyetagaintomylipswithequalmeasuresofdesireandamusement.“Now…goupstairsandwaitforme.”CHAPTER3
“Thatfeelssogood,”Isighoutblissfully,lettingmybeltfalltotheflooroftheensuitebathroom.IopenthedrawerunderthesinkthatSarahkeepsstockedwithanobsceneamountoftoiletriesandfindeverythingImightneedforaquickrefresh.
Ifetchfloss,mouthwash,deodorant,andafewmakeupwipesforaquickdownstairsclean.ItmaythrowoffmypHbalance,butthat’sWinoftomorrow’sproblem.
Ihearasoftknock,followedbyacreakingdooropening,thenshuttingintheadjoiningroom.
“I’llbeoutinaminute!”Icall,removingsomeofthedarkeyemakeupIsmearedonbeforetheparty.
“Thisistheirguestbedroom?”Boasksfromtheothersideofthedoor,clearlyimpressed.
“You’reinfinance,right?Howmuchdoyouthinkthishouseisworth?”Iaskbeforetakingashotofmouthwashandswishingitaroundmymouth,thentryingtoquietlyspititout.
Helaughsbutdoesn’thumourmewithaguess.
Itossmyheadforward,usingmyforearmandthecrookofmywristalongsidemylefthandtogatherallofmyhairintoahighpony.Itakeofftheleatherskirtandbootsbutleavemywhiteblouse—withextrabuttonsundone—andfishnettightson.
Withafewcentringbreaths,Iapplysomelipgloss,smackmylipstogether,andattempttogathereveryshredofconfidencerequiredtoopenthedoortothebedroom.
Sarah’sguestroomisdecoratedingreymoodywallpaperanddarkfloorswithasmallchandelierinthecentreoftheroom.Idimmedallthelightstoasoft,flatteringglowbeforemakingamaddashtothebathroom.Inthemiddleoftheroom,there’saqueen-sizebedcoveredinacrispwhitelinenduvet,taupeknittedblankets,andthrowpillows
Bositsontheedgeofthebed,facingthedoorwaythatI’veyettomovefrom.Themomenthespotsme,heautomaticallylowershishandtohislapandadjustshistrousers.Whichdoesgreatthingsformyego.
“Damn,”hesays,hisjawworking.Heleansforward,chucklingtohimselfinanagonised,bittersweetmannerbeforehelooksupatmethroughhoodedeyes.I’mstruckbytheillusionofpowerbornfromtheeagerlookonBo’sfacetellingmethathe’daskhowhighifIsimplysaidjump
“Itookoffsomeofthe…stuff,”Isay,holdingontothedoorframeforbalance.
“Icanseethat.”Bowetshislips.Hishandsrubupanddownhisownthighsasifthey’reseekingoutfrictionofanysort.“It’sagoodlook.”Heclearshisthroat,sittingupslowly.“Great—youlook…great.”Hesmiles,buthiseyesdon’t—theyremainraptlyfocusedonme.
Itakefivestepstowardhimonpointedtoes,stoppingbetweenhispartedknees.Hishandsfindthebackofmylegs,justundermyass.They’retenseastheyroamovermyskincoveredinthinlynettedtights.Evenwithhimsittingdown,myfaceisonlyslightlyabovehis.
“Iguessyouwerekiddingaboutthesexymaidcostume,then,”hesays,hishandsroamingfromthebackofmykneestothecreasebelowmyass,histhumbsplayingwiththestringscrisscrossingmythighslikeaharp.
“Disappointed?”Iask,leaningforward.Thetipofmyponytailfallsagainstthehollowofhischeek.Botiltshisnosetowardit,andhiseyesclosebrieflyashebreathesin.
“Onlyalittle.”Hemovesonehandfromthebackofmythightothenapeofmyneckandpullsmecloser,tiltinghisjawuptopresshislipstomine.
“Maybenextyear,”Iwhisperjustbeforeourmouthscollide.
Ourkissisexploratoryatfirst.Gentlebutintentional.Itisn’tuntilBo’sotherhandreachesmywaistthatitgrowsheated—teethtugging,handspulling,mouthscrashing.Iclimbintohislap,mykneesstraddlinghiships,andmoanunwittinglywhenhetiltsupintomeasheleansback—thefeelingofhimjustbetweenmythighs.
“IfuckingloveHalloween,”hepracticallygrowlsagainstmylips,smilingevenstill.
AllIthinkisoff.
Takemyclothesoff
Let’sgeteachotheroff
Helpmeturnmybrainoff
“Ican’treallydootherpeople’sbuttons,”Isay,pepperingkissesalonghisjawtowardhisear,myvoiceraspy.“Imean,Icandoitbut…slowly.”
“Takeallthetimeyouneed,”hesays,wordspartedbytenderkissesonmyneckthathavemyeyesdrooping,weigheddownbyheadylust.
Imovemylefthandtothecentreofhischestandfindthefirstbuttonofhisshirt.Igodownfromthere,oneatatime,unbuttoningasbestasIcan.
Bobeginsundoingmyshirt.Atfirst,Ithinkhe’steasingmewithaslow,seductiveunravelling.ButthenIrealisehe’smatchingmypacepurposefully,clearlyslowerthanhe’scapableofformybenefit.Whichisjustassexyasifhewasteasingme.Maybeevenmoreso.
Itisalso,tragically,oneofthelargerromanticgesturesofmylife.
Oncehisshirtisopen,Ipushitoffhisshouldersanddownhisarms,kissingfeverishlyaswego.
Oncemyshirtisoff,Ileanbackandletmyhandswanderacrosshischestasmyeyesdrinkhimin.He’sgotfrecklesacrossthetopsofhisbroadshouldersandchest,sprinklingdownhisbicepsbeforefadingtojustafewspotsonhisforearms.
Itracethemwithmyhand,likedrawingoutconstellationsinthenightskyasIleanintokisshimagain.Hestopsmebyduckinghisheadlower,suckingatthetopofmybreastthathasspilledoverthecupofmybra.
Iwhimper,pushingmytitsouttowardhim.Hiseyesflickuptome,watchingmyreactionashekissesacrossmychest.Mybreathturnsshortandshallowashetugsmyfleshbetweenhisteethandgripsmyhipstighter.
Iplacemyrighthandonthebackofhishead,desperatelytryingtotakeholdofhishairandkeephiminplace.Thenshamecreepsin.Idropmysmallerhandoffhisheadandoverhisshoulder,hearingthewordsofmyexloudinmyear.Don’t.No,useyourotherhand.
“Ilikedthat,”Bosays,mouthandnosepressedundermycollarboneashekisseshiswayuptowardmyneck.Heplacesmyhandbackwhereitwasamongsthishair.Itrymybesttothreadmyshortfingersthroughit,gatheringasmuchasIcanbetweenmythumbandthesideofmypalmtopull.
Bogroansinresponse,soIdoitagainashesucksonmypulsepointundermyear,hishairbrushingsoftlyagainstmychin.
“Ilovehowyousmell,”Isay,consciousofthepantingbreathsbetweenusgrowingmoreurgent.
“Youtoo.Likecandiedapples.”Hepresseshisnoseintomyhairline,hislipsagainsttheedgeofmyjaw.“Itmakesmewantto…”Hetenses,hismouthopeningandhisteethlightlydraggingacrossmychin.“God,”hebreaksthewordintotwosyllables,laughingwithouthumour.
“Iwantyou,”Isaybreathlessly.
“Willyouliedownforme?”heasks,gentletonespokenagainstmycheek.“Iwanttoseeallofyou.”
Inoddemurely,movingoffhislapandcrawlingtowardthemiddleofthebed.Lyingdown,Isoakinthefeeloftheluxuriouslinenonmybarearmsandback.It’sallsosoftthatitturnsmeonevenmore.Thefeelingofthesheetsagainstmyskinandthesoundoffeather-filledpillowsenvelopsme.
Bomovestothefootofthebed,standingonlyinhisblacktrousers.Iwatchashetakesoffthreeringswithoutremovinghiseyesfrommybody.Theringsclattertotheflooraroundhisfeet,buthedoesn’tseemtocarewheretheyfall.
Iriseontomyelbows,grinninginsatisfactionathowBo’shairisalreadystickinguponallends.Itonlygetsmessierasherakeshishandsthroughitagain.
He’slosinghismindoverme
“Win,”hesays,mynameananguishedplea,shakinghishead.“Fuckinglookatyou.”
“Yes?”Iask,feigninginnocenceasmysmirkonlygrows.Ididn’tevensayhecouldn’ttouchmeormovecloser,yethe’sdistressed.He’susingalltheself-controlhehastomakethislastaslongaswebothwantitto.
Admittedly,Ilovethisfeeling.ThepowerI’veharnessedwhilelaidoutonmyback.Thewaymybodycanturnsomeonecrazed.It’sthemostincontrolIeverfeel,nexttobeinginthelifeguardtoweronthebeach.
Hepointsatmykneeswithbothhands.“Openthoseforme,honey.”
Honey?Hmm,IthinkIlikeit.
Idigmyheelsintothemattress,poppingmykneesupasIslidemylegsapart.
“Likethis?”Iasksweetly.
“Yes,”Boanswers,teethbaredaroundhisknuckles.“Justlikethat,”hesaysslowlybeforeflickinghishairoutofhiseyes.
Isplaymyfingersacrossthebandofmytightsaroundmywaistandfollowthesideseamdowntomyhips.ThenItraceastringcuttingagainstthethickestpartofmythigh.“Wouldyoutaketheseoff?”Iask,toyingwiththem.
Bonodslikeamanpossessed,bendingoverthebedtoreachformywaist.Hepullsthetightsdowninonestrong,fluidmotionuntilthey’reoffandrestingoverhisshoulder.Ithoughtthatwasanaccident,andhe’dsoondiscardthemtothefloor,buthe’skeepingthemclosewithatightgripashemoveshisoppositehanduptheinsideofmyleg.
“Win,”hesays,nearlywhimpering.“Whoareyou?”
I’mmoreturnedonthanIhavebeeninyears,andtheguyhasn’teventouchedmeyet.“Bo,”Iwhisperlongingly,myhandsclingingtotheblanketunderneathme.
WhatIwanttosayisstopcaressingmylegandbringyourhand,mouth,dick,oranypartofyou,closer“Comehereplease,”Isayinstead,bitingmybottomlip.
Bowalksaroundthebed,onlygivinguphisholdofmytightswhenhesitstoundress.Thenhediscardsthemtothefloor.
IshuffleovertotherightsideofthebedasBoundressesdowntohisboxerbriefs.Withhistrousersandcostumegone,Igetaclearerviewofhisprostheticleg.ItlooksmorefuturisticthanIwasexpecting—metallic,withsilverhingesandjointsunderagreyplasticsocket.
ThenIrememberwhathesaiddownstairsaboutnothavinghadsexsince…sincewhateverhappened.Iwanthimtofeeltotallysafetochoosewhattodonext,butthisisunchartedterritoryforusboth.
“Youcantakeyourprosthesisofforleaveiton.Whateveryou’remostcomfortablewith,”Ioffer,tryingtokeepmyvoiceindifferent,makinganefforttoremainbreathysohedoesn’tthinkI’manylessturnedonthanIwasjustmomentsago.
Bonodswithhisbacktomebeforeusinghisarmstohelptwisthimselfontothebed.Heliftsandadjustsuntilhisbackisstraightagainsttheheadboardandbothlegsareoutinfrontofhim
Iwastenotimegettingbacktoit,movingmymouthfromhisbiceptothetopofhisshoulderandacross.OnceIliftmylegoverhislap,straddlinghimonceagain,wecomealive.Theglorioussensationofnothingseparatingusbuttwothin,matchingblacklayersofcottonisexhilarating.
“Callmehoneyagain,”Isay,grindingmyselfagainsthishardness.
“Youlikedthat?”hemuses,hisvoicecocky.“Itsortajustslippedout.”
Idon’tanswer.Well,Ido.Justnotwithwords.
Wefallbackintokissingintuitively.Roughandgreedybutcoordinated—nobumpingnosesorawkwardslipsoftongueagainstteeth.Justtwopeoplewindingthemselvesuphigherandhigherwiththehopethatwe’lleventuallyfall,crash,andburn.
Icontinuewrithingagainsthim,gratefulthathedoesn’tseemtobeintoomuchofarush.Dryhumpingissounderrated.
I’mstartingtofeelmybodyfloatawaytothatperfectedgewhenhereachesaroundmybackandunclaspsmybra.Twolargehandsfindmytitsimmediately,playingwiththemuntilI’mgaspingandmovingforhimlikeapuppetonhisstring.BodropshislipstomychestasIarchmybackforhim.Heplucksmynipplebetweenhisthumbandfingerbeforesuckingitintohismouthandflickingitwithhistongue.
“Yes,”Ihiss,myhips’rhythmpickingupspeed.
Moaningaroundme,Bosplayshisfingersacrossmylowerback,pressingmeintohimwithhismouthpassingbetweenmybreastsgreedily.
“Liftup,”hesays,hisvoiceforcefulthroughhisteeth,hishandplacedatthebaseofmyneck.
Igoontomykneeswithoutquestion,liftingoffhislap.Hesmoothlyguideshimselfdownthemattressuntilhe’sflatonhisback,hisfaceperfectlypositionedbetweenmythighs.
“Good,”hesays,scratchingmyinnerthighwithhisstubbleashepullsmypantiestothesidewithanunexpectedroughness.“Nowsitforme…honey.”Hethrowsinthehoneyattheendlikehe’stryingtosweetenthedeal.Ineedednoadditionalpersuasion.
BeforeIevenhavetimetolowermyselffully,Bo’sgotbothofhishandsonmyhipsandhe’sdraggingmeontohisface.Hisfingersdigintomysidesuntilitalmosthurts.
“Relax,”Ibreatheoutasheburrowsintome.Butmysmugnessdoesn’tlastlong.Igaspwhenhismouthbeginsworkingagainstme.Mykneestremble,thengiveoutentirelyuntilI’mactuallysittingonhisfaceandholdingontotheheadboardfordearlifeashepresseshistongueexactlywhereIwantit.
“Yes,yes,yes,”Iwhisper,myvoicerough.
Hereachesupwithbothhands,takingmyhandsfromtheheadboardandplacingthembehindmyback,holdingthemtogetherinonestrong,unrelentingfist.Mybodyisentirelyathismercy,andIsimplydonotcare.
Hehumsagainstmeinresponsetoeverysoundescapingmylips.Arewarding,pridefulgroanrumblesfromthebackofhisthroateachtimeIgasp,moan,orcryout.
I’vehadafairnumberofmeneatmeout.Butnonehavedoneitlikethis.Liketheyweretrulystarvedforme.LiketheyenjoyeditjustasmuchasIdo.
PleasurebuildsandbuildsandbuildsuntilIfinallycomeundone,shudderingoutonelong,gratefulwhimperasIorgasm.Equalpartsreliefandpleasurecascadeoverme.
Bogentlyreleasesmyhandsashecontinuestolickme,sendingshuddersupmyspinewitheachlanguidswipe.Iwipethesheenofsweatoffmybrowwithmywrist,twitchingasheworksmeoverdelicatelywithhistongue.
“Ican’t,”Iwhisper,attemptingtopullmyselfupandoffhim.Boshakeshisheadbetweenmythighs,groaninghisdispleasureatmetryingtomove.Heattemptstoholdmeinplacewithahandclaspedaroundthebackofmyknee,butIbreakfree.
Hebites—notnibbles,butbites—thesoftestpartofmyinnerthighwhenIliftonelegtomoveoffhim.Iyelp,laughinginsurpriseandsoberingimmediately,fallingontomyassnexttothepillows.
“Sir!”Icalloutinshock.Asin,howdareyou?
Ilookoverathimandfindmyselfmomentarilystunned.Bo’spartedlipsaresparklingwetandslightlyswollen,andhiseyesaresatiated.“Oh,hellyeah,”hebreathesoutalaugh,“Icoulddefinitelybeintobeingcalledsir.”
Irollmyeyes,thoughIcan’thelpbutsmile.
Attemptingtocatchmybreath,Ilienexttohim.Hemovesapieceofhairoutofhisfacebeforebracinghisweightonhisforearmtosuspendhimselfovermeandkissingmeleisurely.Igetoffonthetasteofmyselfonhislips,andbasedonthewayhekeepsbrushinghistongueagainstmine,hedoestoo.
Notlongafterthat,I’mtracinghishardnessthroughhisboxers.“MayI?”Islidethetipofmythumbunderthehem.“Sir,”Irewardhimwithonlyahintofsarcasm.
“Haveatit,honey,”hedrawls,hisvoicearrogantashefallsontohisbackwithhishandsbracedbehindhishead.CHAPTER4
Bo’sdickishuge.Ishouldhaveguessed,giventhesheerheightofhimandthefeelIgotthroughhisboxers.ButIdidn’thavemuchtimetothinkahead.
“Haveyouconsideredporn?”Iask,marvelling.
“Areyoujustgoingtokeeplookingatit?”Boasks,voicestrained.
“Youhadyourturntoogle.Thisismine,”Iargue.
“It’sabitvulnerable.”Hethrowshishandsoutathissides.“Justnakedandlyinghere.”
“Icouldtieyouup,”Ioffer.“That’shelpedmewithsomeofmyshynessinbedbefore.”Ilookaround.“I’dhavetofindsomealternativetorope.”
“I’mnotshy,”hesayspointedly.“ButnowI’mdefinitelyimaginingyoutiedup.”Hereachesformewithahandonthebackofmyneck,butItiltawayfromhim,stillunsureofwhattodowiththissurprise.
“BequietwhileItrytocalculatehowthisisgoingtofit.”Igoontomykneesandsitnexttohislap.
Hesighs,placingahandonhisforehead,halfcoveringhiseyes.
“There’sjustsomuchIhaven’tdone,youknow?”Isay.
“What?”heasks,laughingexasperatedlyandrunningahandthroughhishair.
“Iwantedtotravel,maybehavekids,learnhowtomakemyowncandles.Istillhaven’twatchedallnineseasonsofTheOffice.IthoughtIhadmoretime.”
“Areyouimplying—”
“Thatthisdickisgoingtomurderme?Yes,”Iinterrupt.
“Ohmygod,”hegroansout.
“Doyourhandsgettiredofholdingitwhileyoupee?”
“I’mgonnaleave,”hemumbles.“I’mgoingtoleave,”hesaysdefinitivelywhenIpressmyforearmnexttohislapforcomparison.
“Sorry.Okay,sorry.Don’tleave.I’llsolveit.”
“It’snotaRubik’sCube;it’smypenis.”
“Canyounotsaypenis?It’snotaparticularlysexyword.”
“Right,becausetherestofthisconversationsinceIgotnakedhasbeensoverysexy.”
“Iseeyourpoint.”
“Thankyou,”hereplies,hisvoiceindignant.
“Just…realquick…how—”
Hemuttersunderhisbreath,reachingforthebackofmyheadandtuggingsohardthatIimmediatelyturntoputtyinhishands.“Nomorequestions.”HerunshisthumbacrossmymouthuntilIpartmylipsforhim.Thenhemoveshisthumbbetweenmylipsandpushesdownagainstmytongue,pryingmyjawopen.“Better,”hesaysonasharpinhale.
Ohmygod.
“Ready?”heasks,hiseyessearchingmine.Inodforhim,curlingmytonguearoundhisthumb.Hismalevolentsmileonlygrowsfiercerbeforehepushesmyheaddownontohislap.He’sgotatightholdaroundmyponytailandhisotherhandonmycheek.
Okay,soitdoesfit.
AndBoisnottoosweet.
AndI’mpossiblygoingtohavetoconsidertheonepartofthetermone-nightstand.
HemoansshakilyasIswallowhimback.“Somuchquieter,”hesaysteasingly,breathlessevenstill.Iglareupathimbut,strangely,itdoesn’thavethesameeffectwhilehisdickishittingthebackofmythroat.
Icontinueworkinghimover,pressingmytongueflatagainsthimandtracingtheveinsalonghisshaft.WhenIhollowoutmycheeks,hiswholebodytenses,andhepullsmyhairfartootightuntilIwhine.
“Shit,sorry,”hesays,lettingmyhairgonearlycompletely.
Ireleasehimfrommymouthwithawetpop,continuingtostrokehimwithmyhand“Don’tbe.”IgrinlikethedevilasIlickfrombasetotip.“Icanhandleit.”
WhatImeanis;I’msotiredofmentreatingmelikeI’mdelicatebecauseofmyhand.I’mnotbreakable.I’mdefinitelynotbroken.Useme.Letmedriveyoutothepointwhereyou’ddounspeakablethings.Letmehavethatpoweroveryou.I’mcapableofit.
Minutesgobyofrhythmicpushandpull.Withmymouthwrappedaroundhim,Boseemstobeinheaven—callingoutmynameandwhisperingunsparingpraises,asifhe’swillingtolayhislifeatmyfeet.
Bo’shandmovesfromitsholdaroundmyhairtomyass,kneadingandgrippingmyflesh.Iarchmybackforhim,pushingmybumintotheair.
“Goddamn,”hewhispers,takingholdofmypantiesandtuggingthemdownward.Hehelpsmeliftoutofthem,andoncethey’relonglosttotheever-growingpileofclothesonthefloor,Boreachesbetweenmylegs,cuppingmeinawaythatfeelspossessiveandlitwithdesire.Ithankhimbyhummingaroundhisdickwhileincreasingmymouth’sspeedandintensity.
Heshiversonalongexhale,hissingasIcomeupaftergagging.Botracesafingeraroundmywetentrance,andinstantly,Ifeelmyselfflutterinanticipation.
“Stop,”Bosaysforcefully,pullingmeoffhimwithahandonthebackofmyneck.Hesitsup,reachingtowardme.“Ineedyou.”Withtwohandsonmywaist,hepicksmeupanddropsmeontohislap.Igiggle,mychestcrashingagainsthis.
“Impatient,”Isay,raisinganeyebrowasIlookbetweenustowherehisglistening,wethardnessispressedagainsthisabdomen.
“Maddening…”Helaughsslowly,rollinghisneck.“Youaremaddening.”
Ibitemylip,tryingnottoblushorsmileasIleantowardthenightstand.MybreastscatchBo’sattentionwhileIreachintothebedsidedrawer.Ashelicksandnibblesaroundmynipples,Iabsentmindedlysweepmyhandinsidetheboxofcondoms.ThenIdoitagain.Finding…nothing.
No…No.No.No!
“Shit.”Istraighten,forcingBooffmytitsasIpeerintoacompletelyemptybox.
“What?”heasks,hiseyesdriftingbetweenmylookofdisbeliefandthebedsidedrawer.
“Doyouhaveacondom?”Iask.
Herubshisrightshoulderwiththeoppositehand,makinghisbiceptenseinfrontofhischest,whichisnothelpingmyfocuswhatsoever.“No.Shit,sorry.I,uh,didn’texactlyseethishappening.”
“Damnit,”Iwhine,goingtomykneesnexttohimonthebed.Ican’tthinkproperlywhileI’monhislap.
IcouldthrowonsomeclothesandrunacrossthehallwaytoSarahandCaleb’sroom—butIvowedtonevergobackintotheirdrawerafterthetraumaticsextoycollectiondiscoveryof2019.Ibitethesmallnailonmyrightthumbnervously,assessingournextbestoption.
WithBo’seyesheldonmeinconcern,hedoestheunexpected.Hebringsmysmallhandawayfrommyteethandtohislips.Thenhekisseseachofmylittlefingers,onebyone.
Noonehaseverdonethat.
I’veneverbotheredtoimaginethatanyonewouldtouchmetheresointimately.
ThewhirlinginmychesttellsmeI’munsureofwhetherthislevelofvulnerabilityisokay.Idon’tstophim,though.Idon’twantto.Ijuststareinequalpartsaweandconfusion.
Bograzeshisteethalongmypalm,thenplantsafewdelicatekissesontomywrist,hiseyesholdingminetheentiretime.I’malittlestunned.Andconsciousofhowmyheart’srhythmhasquickenedandswelledintoaforgottenaffectionIhaven’tfeltinyears.Possiblyever.
“Doweneedtostop?”heasks,hisvoicelow.
No,everythinginmeanswers.
“I’monthepill,”Ichokeout.
Henodsthoughtfully.“I’vebeentestedsincemylasttime.Allclear,”Bosayswithanunmistakabledesperationinhisvoice.
“Metoo.”Inuzzleagainsthisneckashewindshishandsaroundmywaistandpullsmebackontohislap.“Idon’twanttostop,”Isayasheplaceskissesacrossmycollarbone.
“NeitherdoI,”heanswers.
Lulledwithsuchadoringkisses,Ieventuallylowermyselfontohimcompletelybare.Atfirst,webothremainperfectlystillasIadjusttothestretchofhiminsideme.IfeelhimdeeperthanIthoughtpossible,andwhileit’snotexactlyuncomfortable,itstealsmybreathawayandcausesashuddertopassthroughme.Athrobbingacheneedingtobesatiated.
Wedosomethingbetweenfuckingandmakinglove.Somethingnewandalittlebewildering,unlikeanycasualsexI’veeverexperienced.It’snotgentle,butit’snotentirelyhedonisticeither
Wefittogetherperfectly.Me,withmylegswrappedaroundhisback.Him,apillarofstrengthsittingatthecentreofthebed.Bo’shandstravelupanddownmyspine,grippingthefleshofmyhips,myass,andmyneck.Myhandsfeastinhishair,tracehisjaw,griphisshoulders.
Wecontinuepassionatelykissingthroughout.Bitingwhenit’salltoomuch—lipsandshouldersandjaws.Breathlessgaspsandmoansexchanged,breathedintotheother’sflushedskinandhair
Eventually,wefinishtogether,withhisthumbonmyclitandhisteethharshagainstmyjawtellingme—demandingme—tocome.It’sincredible
Andyet,whenIcomebackfromcleaningmyselfupinthebathroom,Boishalfdressedandsearchinginthedarkforhiscarelesslydiscardedbelongings.
“Here,”Isay,handinghimoneoftheringshesocasuallythrewtothefloorattheendofthebed.
“Thanks,”hesays,smilingshylyatthegroundbetweenusasheslipsiton.
It’snotthatIexpectedhimtostayafterward.Wewerebothclearaboutwhatwewerelookingfor.I,evenmoreso.Nothingseriousorpermanent.Nothinglongterm.AndIstillfeelthatway.
But…Ican’thelpthesinkingfeelingthatstartsinmychestandcreepsitswaydownmyspineatthethoughtofsleepingaloneaftersharingsuchavulnerabletimetogether.Ican’thelpbutwonderifitwasn’tnearlyasuniqueforhimtoexperiencesuchgreatsex.IfIwasn’tasgoodforhimashewasforme.
Icovermyselfwithabedsheetandwatchasheeffortlesslybuttonshisshirtbackup.
Oncedressed,hestills.Hepatshispantsforphone,orkeys,orwallet,andnodstohimself.Eventually,helooksatmewithhesitancyheavyacrosshisfeatures.
“Thankyou,”hesays,reachingformylefthand.Hebendsovertokissit,hiseyeslookingupatme.“Ican’tentirelyexplainwhatthismeanttome,”heswallowsthickly,“butthankyou,Win…”
Inod,unsureofwhattosay.NervousthatthewordstaymightescapemylipsifIanswerhim.Ilowertositonthemattressashegrabsonelastthingoffthechairinthefarcorneroftheroomandwalkstowardthedoorwithoutlookingback.
Aftershuttingoffthelights,Ifallagainstthepillowsandbeginconvincingmyselfthatthisisdefinitelyforthebest.ThelasttimeIfeltthissortofimmediateconnectionwithsomeone,theeffortlessbackandforth,therushofexcitementfollowedbygreatsex,Ilandedmyselfinahorribleplace.
Jackhadbeenkindatfirsttoo.Sweet.Funny.Generousinbed.Ifhewasentirelyhorrible,Iwouldn’thavegivenhimthechancetocrushmelikehedid.That’showmengetyou.Afalsesenseofcomfort,andthenboom—tenmonthslateryou’retellingpeopleyouhaveallergiestoavoidexplainingyourred-rimmedeyesagain.
And,likemymother,I’mfartoosofthearted.Oftentooeagertoseethebestinpeople.TooattachedtoleavewhenIshould.Tooscaredofbeingalone.
AndIdostrugglewiththeideaofbeingaloneforever.Butthat’sevenmorereasontokeepitthatway,Ithink.What’sworsethanawomanwhocan’tenjoyherowncompany?Independenceisavirtue,andonethatisbestlearnedwithouttoomanyhardlessons.
Mylogicwillalwayshavetoreconcileagainstmyfoolish,helplessheart.AndIthinklogicwillwinintheend.Icanmakesureofthat.
SoIshutmyeyesandwillmyselftosleepwell.Determinedtonotlosesleepoveranyman.Nomatterhowwonderfulhemayseem.CHAPTER5
SixWeeksLater
“Pregnant?”Iaskthroughhystericallaughter.DoctorSalimstaresatmewithincreasingconcernasIspiralfurther.“Noway.Nope!No-no-no.Checkagain.Runbackthetapes.Recountthevotes.Somethingiswronghere.”
Thedoctortakesadeepbreathinasshesitsstraighter,poisedliketheimpressivewomansheis.Sheatleastpretendstolookoverthepapersinherhandagain—thefoldershemusthavemistakenasmine.“Win,bloodworkdoesnotlie.IfyourlastperiodwasOctobersixteenth,that’dmakeyouabouteightweeksalong.”
“WinnifredMcNulty,”Ipointtothetopofthelabreport,“isamorecommonnamethanyou’dthink.”Iswallownervously.“Thelabsprobablyswitchedmyresultswithsomeoneelse.”That’sit.Thathastobeit.
We’reinterruptedbythesoundofaswiftknock,followedbythearrivalofadisembodiedhandthroughthecrackofthedoor—presumablyattachedtothenursewhomademepeeinacup.Anothersheetofpaperishandedover.Thosearenotmyfriendstoday.
“Yoururinesamplewasalsopositiveforpregnancy,”thedoctorsays,addinganotherpapertomyever-growingfolder.“Win.”Shesetsthefileonherdeskandplacesonelegovertheotherbeforerestinghertightlyclaspedhandsaboveherknee.“Itakeitthisissomewhatofasurprise?”
“I’monthepill,”Isay,myvoicefaroff.Perhapsmyvoiceissomewherewithmybody.Mynon-pregnantbody.TheoneIhadonlyminutesago.
“Nocontraceptiveis100percenteffectiveagainstpregnancy.”
“Ialsousecondoms,”Iadd.
“Everytime?”
Shit,right.“Well,onetime…no.”BeforeHalloween,Ihadaperfectrecord.ThenBo.TheguyI’vetriedtopushoutofmythoughtssince
“Onetimeaboutfivetosixweeksago?”DoctorSalimasks,herpatiencemomentarilylapsing.
“Aboutthat,yes,”Ireply,snarkierthanintended.“Shit,sorry,”Iwhisperintomypalms,coveringmyface.“Igotknockedupbyapirate…”Isay,myvoicemuffledbymyhands.
“Sorry,what?”Thedoctor’stonealertsmetotheveryunusualthingIjustsaid.
Ipeekthroughmyfingersather.“ItwasHalloween.Hewasdressedasapirate.”
“Oh.”Shesighs.“Wereyouintimatewithanyoneelsethatsamemonthorshortlythereafter?”
“No,justhim.”
“Thepirate?”
“Aye,”Iwhimpersoftly.
ShegivesmeathisisnotthetimelookthatI’veonlypreviouslygottenfrommymother.“Well,youhavethegoodfortuneofknowingexactlywhenconceptionwas,whichsetsyourduedateatabout…”Shepicksupacircularcardboarddevicefromherdeskandrotatesbetweendates.“Julytwenty-fourth.”
“Okay.”Inod,myeyesfindingaspotonthewalltosteadyme.Asmallpieceofchippedpaintbecomesmyfocalpointasthewallsswellandtiltaroundme.
Julytwenty-fourth.That’safairlyinconspicuousday.WhatdoInormallydoonJulytwenty-fourth?
Mysummersareusuallyspentlifeguardingonthebeachatthelocalcampsite,WestcliffPoint.Lastyear,IworkedextrashiftsatthecafétopayforatriptovisitMominFloridaattheendofthesummer.WeatedinneroutsideeverynightwhileIwastheretothesoundsofwhistlingthroughpalmleavesandaggressivelyvocalfrogs.Herskinlookedlikeleather,andmyconcernforhersunbathinghabitsgrew.Butnothingsignificanthappened.Nothingthissignificanthaseverhappened.
Ican’tbealifeguardwhenI’mninemonthspregnant.
Ican’tvisitmymomwithanewborn.
Whatcansomeonedoatninemonthspregnantotherthan…wait?
“Thegoodnewsisthatatthisstageofyourpregnancy,youhaveeveryoptionavailabletoyou.Wehavesometimetodecidehowtobestmoveforward.”
“Okay”istheonlywordIseemtohaveavailabletome.
“Istheresomeoneyoucouldcalltohelpyouprocessthisnews?Afriend?The,er,father,perhaps?”
“Yeah,”Imurmur,pullingoutmyphonetotextSarah.NotthatI’dcallhimnowifIhadit,butnothavingBo’snumbersuddenlyfeelshumblingtosaytheleast
“Whydon’twesetupanotherappointmentinaweek’stime?Ifyoumakeyourdecisionbeforethen,justcallandwecangofromthere.Ifnot,wecandiscussyouroptionssomemore.”
“Yeah,okay,”Isay,myeyescaughtonthesmallscaleinthecorneroftheroomunderacollectionofpamphletsandadvertisementswithpicturesofchubbybabiesonthefront.
“I’malsogoingtoscheduleanultrasoundforafewweeksfromnow,sincetheybookupfast.Ifyou’renolongerpregnant,we’llcancelit,ofcourse.Butthatway,youcanhaveyourfirst-trimesterscanaswerecommend.”
“Ultrasound,right.”Iimagineit,thelittleblackandgreyblobonascreen.Thesoundofaheartbeat,liketheonesyouhearontelevision.Exceptnowit’dbetheinhabitantofmywombonsometech’smonitor.Theprobepressedagainstmybelly.
Iliftmylefthandfrommylapandpressitagainstthecorduroyoverallscoveringmystomach.There’snodiscerniblechangeinitsshape,size,orhardnesswhatsoever.Yeteverythinghaschanged.
Myphonechimeswithatext.It’sSarah,lettingmeknowshe’salreadyonherway.Nohesitationandnoquestionsasked.JustlikeourmotherstaughtusGofirst;askquestionslater,theyalwayssaid.
Ithinkofourmomsinthattinyapartmenttogetheralmostthirtyyearsago.Theyweresoyoung—somuchyoungerthanIam—whentheyhadSarahandme.Wewouldallsitforhoursonourold,crustymarooncouch,flippingthroughphotoalbumsastheytoldusstories.Countlessbooksfilledwithpicturesofourmomsdressedinhorrificninetiesfashion,theirbelliesgrowingineachphotounderbusy-patternedpastelsweaters.IthinkofthepalegreencolourtheypaintedthenurserySarahandIshared.Theceilingtheylinedwithwallpapercartoonducks.Thewaytheyhadtodoallofitontheirownandstillmadeitspecialforus.
Unlikethem,I’matastageoflifewheremanyofmyfriendshavechosentogetpregnant.I’vegonetothreebabyshowersthisyearalone.And,secretly,I’vehopedforababyofmyown.Asomedaywish.Aonce-I-have-my-shit-togetherdream.
Buttruthfully,Ican’thelpbutwonder…isanyoneeverreadyforakid?
Evenwiththatshredofcomfort,Idon’tthinkI’veeverfeltasjudgedasIdorightnow.NotbyDoctorSalim,ofcourse,butbytheworldoutside.Icanalmostsenseit—themillionsofinvisibleeyessetonme.
Youcan’tgoadaywithouthearingthechoiceofpregnancybeingdebated,broadcasted,andfoughtoverinsomewayoranother.Still,Ineverconsideredhowitwouldfeeltositfrontandcentre.It’sasifI’llfindreportersoutside,tryingtopredictwhatImeantodonext.ProtestorsandpoliticianswaitinginthewingstodecipherwhetherI’mmorallyrightorwrong.Toomanyopinionsforthissmallcorneroffice.
SoIshovethemallawayasbestIcan.
Here,it’sjustDoctorSalimandme.Thewayitshouldbe.
“So,symptomsyoucouldexpectbeforeournextvisit…”DoctorSalimbeginslistingoffthemosthorrible-soundingpossibilities.Soreboobs,nausea,increasedsaliva,irritability,exhaustion.“Butwhatyoudon’twanttoseeis…”Evenworsestuff.Bleeding,intensecramping,blurredvision,extremeboutsofdepression.“…thenyoucallme,okay?”
Inod,feelingentirelyemptiedout.
“Ifyou’reunsureofwhatthenextstepis,Isuggesttreatingthislikeaviablepregnancy.”Shestands,reachingintothecabinetaboveherdesk.“Prenatalvitaminsonceaday.Werecommendnosmoking,drinking,orrecreationaldruguse.There’sapamphletinthewaitingroomaboutwhichfoodstoavoid,aswell.”Shesmilessoftly,handingmeavitaminbottle.“ThoughIwilltellyouIenjoyedsushiandanoccasionalglassofwinewithmysecondpregnancy,andallwaswell.Moderationiskey.”
Whatisshetalkingabout?Sushi?Howdelicatearebabiesthatyoucan’thaveagoddamnmakiroll?
“Okay,”Isay,standingasDoctorSalimholdsthedooropenforme.
“I’llseeyouinaweekbutfeelfreetocallbeforethen,”sheremindsme.
Ihugher.I’msureit’snotappropriate,butIdo.Rightnow,sheandIaretheonlypeopleintheworldwhoknowthissecret,andIfeelasifwe’veformedsomesortofbond.
DoctorSalimacceptsthefar-too-tighthug,pattingmybackbeforemovingtoshutthedoorbehindus.WestandintheemptyhallwayasIwatchherprofessionalmaskslipjustalittle,aweary,gentlecompassionovertakingherfeatures.
“Iknowthismaynotbeanyconsolation,butmypatientswhoplanforpregnancyfeeloverwhelmedtoo.Allofthisisalottoprocess.Butyou’reverycapable,Win.Whateveryoudecideforyourselfwillbeforthebest.Youhavemyfullsupportforanychoice.”
I’mabouttothankheragain,andperhapsforceherintoanotherhug,whenIhearmynamecalledfromthelobby,andtheconcerninSarah’svoiceisobvious.
Iturnaroundandinstantlyfeelatearfallatthesightofmyfriend.Shelookshalfthrown-togetherinsweatpantsandamessybunputupinaclaw-clip.Shereallydiddropeverythingtocomehererightaway.
“Thanksforcoming,”Isay,possiblyjusttomyself,asshejogstomewithherarmsopenathersides.Wecollideinahug.
“What’sgoingon?”sheasksquietlyovermyshoulder,hervoicecautious—asifshe’safraidtohearmyanswer.Iimmediatelythinkofhermom,Marcie,who,insomanyways,wasmymomtoo.How,nearertotheendofherlife,everypieceofnewswegotfromherdoctorsfeltlikeanotherblow.
“I’mokay,”Ireassureher.“Promise,”Isay,steppingback.“Canwetalkinyourcar?”Iwipemytearsonmysleeve.
“Ofcourse,babe.Comeon.”Sarahdragsmetowardtheexit,herhandwrappedtightlyaroundmywrist.Ithankthedoctorsilentlyovermyshoulderaswemakeourwayoutside.CHAPTER6
“You’removinginwithus.”Sarah’sgriptightensevenfurtheraroundmyforearm.She’stakingthesudden,life-alteringnewsasshenormallydoes—byattemptingtotakecontrol.It’sourway.
“Sar,you’rebeingridiculous.Ihavemyownapartment.YouandCalebdon’tevenwantyourownkids.”Isighoutthroughmynose,chewingmylip.“Plus,Idon’tevenknowwhatI’mgoingtodoyet.”
“You’regoingtokeepit,Win.Webothknowthat.”
She’sprobablyright.
ThemomentIlefttheoffice—beforeI’devenworkedupthecouragetotellSarah—Itookaprenatalvitaminandaddedtheremindertomyphone,hittingrepeatforthenextninemonthswithoutanotherthought.
ButIcoulddeletethatreminder.Easily.Icould.
“Ishouldconsiderit,right?Anabortion?”Iask.
“Haveyou?”Sarahasks,hertonefreeofjudgement.
“Notyet.”
Wesitinsilence,oureyesoneachotherabsently.
Ibegindraftingalistinmyheadentitledreasonstonothavethisbaby.AndwhileSarahshouldn’tbesuchasnob,sheisright.Myapartmentbuildingistrash.There’sbeenprettymucheverykindofverminimaginable,andwhentheymanagetogetridofone,anotheralwaysseemstoshowup.
Myneighboursareloudandinconsiderate.Thetrainpassesatfoureverymorning,soloudlythatthewallsshake.Andthere’smouldgrowingunderthekitchensinkthatmyabsenteelandlordclaimsis“healthybacterialikeyoghurt”Butkidshavegrownupinworse.SarahandIdid.Andweturnedoutfine…ish
Ialsoaddmyjobtothebaby-don’tlist.Thecafépaysslightlyaboveminimumwage,andI’mfairlycertainthatparentalleaveinCanadaisabout50percentofyournormalincome.Idon’tknowifIcouldreasonablyliveoffthat.Moneyistightasitis.IfIdidneedtogetanewapartment,itwouldprobablymeanpayingmoreforrent,andthenI’dhaveevenlessmoneytoworkwith.Ontopofthat,I’dhaveanothermouthtofeed,asecondbodytoclothe,anddiaperstobuy.
Butourmomsalwaysgotbyonnexttonothing.Andgrowingupwithoutmoneybuildscharacter.Ithink.Ihope.
Ofcourse,there’sthefactoroftheotherparent.Bo,evenfromourbriefeveningtogether,didn’tstrikemeasthetypeofguytoleavethemotherofhischildhighanddry.Butultimately,Idon’tknowhimatall.AndIdidn’treallyintendtoevergettoknowhim.That’ssortofthewholepointofwhatwedid.Still,maybehe’dhelp?I’dhavetotellhimfirst.Whichwouldmeanhavingtoseehimagain.Somethinghemaynotbeinterestedin.
Something,whichisanotherreasonforconcern,Iaminterestedin.
IstruggletothinkofanyreasonsthatIcan’tdismissafteralittlethought.And,clearly,IknowwhatsideofthedebatemyheartisonwhenI’mdesperatetonotthinkofanotherreasonagainstkeepingthepregnancy.
Hesitantly,eveninsidetheprivacyofmyownthoughts,Iallowmyselftosayit.Iwanttohavethisbaby.Deepdown,inanI-know-itin-my-bonestypeofway,itfeelsright.SoIthinkitagain.Andagain.Testingmyreactiontoiteachtime.Waitingforahintofpanicorarushoffear.Butnothingcomes.Just…resolve.Atinykindlingofexcitement,actually.
I’vealwaysknownIwantedakidortwo.ItwasthelifepartnerIhaven’tbeensosureaboutsinceJack.Maybethisisthewaytogetthebestofbothworlds.Anaccidentalbabyforanintentionallyindependentlife.
“I’mkeepingit,”Isayoutloud,hopingitfeelsright.Nodding,Irepeatmyself,atouchmorecertain.“I’mgoingtohavethebaby.”
“Yousure?”Sarahasksgently.
“Yes.”Ilookather,smilingforthefirsttimesinceIgotthenews,thoughtearsstillsitlodgedinthecornersofmyeyes.
“Win?”sheasks,twistingherlipsfromasoftsmiletounease.“I’mtryingtofindadelicatewaytoaskthis,but…who’sthedad?”
Ah,yes.Theelephantintheroom.Well,inthecar.Theelephantinthecar.“Ihaveaconfessiontomake,”Isay,wincing.
Shesitsupstraighter,puttingtwotightfistsaroundthesteeringwheel,thoughthecar’sstillparked.“Ooh,whatdidyoudo?”shewhispers,hereyeslitwithmischievouscuriosity.“Isitanaffair?Ishemuch,mucholder?Amafioso?Yourchildhoodbestfriend?Oh,wait—that’sme.”
Shereadstoomuch,andit’saddledherbrain.
“IthappenedonHalloween,”Iconfess.
“Ohmygod.”Herwholefacecomesalive.“Youfuckedsomeoneatmyparty?”Shegasps.“Yourbabywasconceivedinmyhouse?”Shelaughs,tiltingherheadbackasifit’salltoomuch.“Howdidyousneakaguyupthere?Sneakhimout?Isthishowourmothersfeltwhenwewereinhighschool?Youareinsomuchtrouble,younglady!”
“Theguestbedroomwasoutofcondoms,”Iwhine,throwingmyheadbackagainstthepassengerseat’sheadrest.
“See,youmakefunofme,butthisiswhyItakerestockingsoseriously.”
“Maybefocusonthelife-changingtoiletriesnexttimeandnotthesixextrabottlesoftravel-sizedshampooinyourdrawer.”
“CalebandIliketomessaroundintheresometimesandpretendwe’reatahotel—sueme.Wait,thismeansthebabydaddyisanotherfriendofours.Whoisit?”Sheleansforward,herintenseeyesattemptingtopiercethroughmysoul.
“AfriendofCaleb’sthatIhadn’tmetbefore.Bo?”
“WhothefuckisBo?Calebdoesn’thavefriendsIdon’t—ohmygod,”shegaspsagain.“Yousleptwithanintruder!”
Iglareather.“Listen,hesaidheknewCalebthroughamutualfriendand…”Ifeelguilty,knowingthisissimilartohowI’vebeenidentifiedinthepastandnotlovingthatfact,butitistheeasiestidentifiablefeature.“Hehasaprostheticleg.”
“Wait,”shelaughsdryly,“Robbie?”
“No!”Icryout.“ThefriendCalebwantedmetohookupwith?”
“He’sgoingtolovethis.”Sarahbeams.“Ihaven’tevenmettheguy.”
“IfuckedaguynamedRobbie?”
“You’rehavingakidwithaguynamedRobbie,babe.”
“Thewithpartistentative.”
“You’regoingtohavetotellRobbie.Youknowthat,right?”
“Stopcallinghimthat.”
“Youknowyou’regoingtohavetotellBo,right?”Sarahsayssternly.
“Yes,”Igrumble.
“Soon?”
“Sure.”Ithrowmyhandsupbeforecrossingtheminfrontofmychest.
Webothfallbackintoourseats,lettingoutalongbreathatthesametime.Istareoutthemoonroofandwatchthewithered,emptybranchesofatreeaboveusblowinthewind.We’redueforsnowtomorrow,andyetmybrainisstuckinJuly.NextJuly,thatis.
“I’mdueJulytwenty-fourth,”Isaydiffidently.
“Wehaveplentyoftime,”Sarahsays,reachingacrossthecentreconsoleformyhand,tuggingmetowardherandloweringherheadtomyshoulder.Iletmyheadfallontopofhers.Neitherofusturnsawayfromtheviewaboveus.
“Ibetshe’llarriveAugustfirst,”Sarahsayssolemnly.
Iadmit,IhadforgottentheexactdaySarah’smom,Marcie,passeduntilSarahspoke.Imissheralmosteveryday,somaybethatonedayinparticularhaslostallitsmeaning.
“Momwouldlovethatdaytobegood,”sheaddswhenIdon’tanswer.“She’dhavelovedtohaveagranddaughtertospoil.”
“Iwouldlovethattoo.”Ikissthetopofherhead.“Butwedon’tknowifit’sagirl.”
“Ifit’sagirl,youshouldnameherSarah.”
“Andifit’saboy?”Iask.
“Sa-rah-yan,”shefumbles.
“Beautiful,”Isay.
“We’llcallhimRyanforshort.”
“Canyougohomeandgetknockeduptoo?”Iwhisper,half-serious.
“No,definitelynot.”Shenuzzlesintome.
“Rude,”Ihuff.
“I’mnotmadetobeamom.We’vebeenoverthis.”Shepatsmycheek,thensitsup,herkindeyessteadyingme.“ButIamgoingtobethebestauntieever.”
Ithitsmealloveragain.Aturning-overfeelinginmygut,likethesecondsbeforeatallwavehits.Ananticipatoryspikeofawareness.“I’mhavingababy,Sarah.”
“Sureseemsthatway”
“There’sakidfloatingaroundinhere.”Ipointtomystomach.“Ahumanbeing.”
“Weshoulddownloadoneofthoseappstofigureoutwhatit’sgotgoingon.”
“Huh?”
“Youknow,whatsizeitis.Likeifit’sanappleseedorapapaya.”
“It’sprobablyreallytinyatthispoint.”Thethoughtofthatfillsmewithanaggingsenseofdread.Howtiny?Howfragile?Itrytopushthosethoughtsaway,buttheylingerquietly.TherealisationthatevenifIchoosetohavethisbaby,itmaynotstickhitsmelikeafreighttrain.
“I’llfindout,”Sarahsays,pullingoutherphone.
Iblowoutabreath,trillingmylips.“Iwasonthepill,fortherecord,”Isay,thoughSarah’spreoccupiedandnotentirelylistening.
MykneestartsbouncingasIthinkofallthethingsI’vedoneinthepastfewweeksthatapregnantwomanabsolutelyshouldn’t.IhadadrinkatSarah’slastweekend,atemysterymeatfromthefoodtruckoutsidethegrocerystore,satinmygym’ssaunaafteraswimtheothernight,smokedajointafteralongshiftafewdaysago.Ihaven’tevendrunkwatertoday.Actually,Imighthaveleftmywaterbottleonthebus,nowthatI’mthinkingaboutit.
ThiscouldexplaintheintensebrainfogI’vebeenfeelingforthepastfewweeks.
Sarahsnortssarcastically,asiftosay,uh-huh,sure.“I’veseenyouforgettotakeyourpilleverytimeyourphoneisdeadbeforeninep.m.”
“Iwasgettingbetteratit,”Isaydefensively.
Sheturnstowardme,purposefullylookingbetweenmystomachandfaceinaslow,sarcasticsequence.“Clearly.”
“Youhavetobenicetomenow.I’mwithchild,”Isay,dramaticallytiltingmynoseintotheair.
“Hey!”Sarahpointstoherphone.“It’sthesizeofacoffeebean,”shesays,hervoicefullofadoration,showingmeherphone’sscreen.“You’regoingtohavetodrinklesscaffeine.Youknowthat,right?”
“Yes,”Ianswersnidely.
“Istilldon’twantyoulivingatyourplace.Willyoupleaseconsidermovingin?”
“Listen,DaddyWarbucks,Iappreciatetheoffer,butmyapartmentisfine.”
“Itwasfumigatedtwomonthsago,”Sarahargues.
“Whichmeanstheproblemshouldbegone.”Ireachfortheseatbeltbehindmyshoulder,thenbucklemyselfin.
“Justthinkaboutit.”Sarahreachesforherseatbeltanddropsherphoneintothecupholderbetweenus.“Wheretonow?”sheasks.
“Wherever.Itookalldayoffworkforthis.IconvincedmyselfIwasdyingwhenmyperiodwaslate.”
“Ah,yesSomuchmorelikelythanababy.”Thenshestills.“Wait,howlonghaveyoubeenworryingaboutthis?Whydidn’tyousayanything?”
“Justaweek.Ididn’twantyoutostress.”
Sarahfrowns.SheandIfrequentlyargueaboutthis.EversinceMarciediednineyearsago,I’vefeltevenmoreresponsibleforher.I’monlythreemonthsolder,butgrowingup,Idefinitelytookontheoldersisterroleoflookingoutforher.
Sure,nowshe’sgotmoremoneythanmeandalovinghusbandtosharetheloadwith,butSarahispure.Sheisoutgoing,atouchnaive,andhasatendencytogetherselfintosituationswherepeopletakeadvantageofherkindness.She’salsobeenthroughalot.Toomuch.Idon’twanthertoeverworry.Especiallynotaboutme.
“Nexttime,letme.”Sheturnstheignitionandbeginspullingoutofherparkingspot.
“Wait,sowherearewegoing?”Iask.
Shesmiles,checkingherblindspotasshechangeslanes.“Myplace.Calebisgoingtoflip.”
DuringthebriefcarridetoSarah’shouse,Ireadpamphletsoutlouduntilwe’rebothsurethatpregnancyandbabiesarecompletelyterrifyingand,inequalmeasure,magical.
Ialso,quietly,thinkofBo.
Iwonderwhereheistodayandwhathisnormalworkdaylookslike.Whathemightlooklikeoutofpiratecostumebutnotnaked.Inhislineofwork,suitsmightberequired.That,I’dliketosee.
Iwonderwhetherhe’llbehorrifiedorgladtohearthathe’sgoingtobeafather—or,morelikely,somewherefluctuatingbetweenthetwo.
Iwonderifhe’llshowupforthebaby,unlikemydadorSarah’s.
IwonderifIwanthimto,orifI’dratherdoitallmyself.Lesseningthechanceofdisappointment,theblowofrejectionformeorthiskiddowntheline.
Oncewearrive,IallowSarahthehonouroftellingherhusbandmynews.ThemomentCalebwalksintothekitchentogreetus,thewordsburstfromherlips,immediatelysendinghimintoastateofshock.
“He’sfrozen.”Iturntomybestfriend,who’sgigglingintoherphone,takingphotosofherdumbfoundedhusband.“Youbrokehim,”Isay.
“No,youdid.”Shelaughsagain.“He’sjustrebooting.Hedoesthissometimes.”Sarahslidesherphoneintoherbackpocket.“Caleb,”shesingsongshisname.“Comebacktous,sweetie.”
“Whyisnooneelsefreakingout?”heasks,loweringhimselfontoakitchenstool.
“Ithinkitjusthasn’tfullyhitmeyet.”Ishrug,throwingbacksomeshreddedcheesefromabagintheirfridge.
“Ihadapremonitionthatthiswouldhappensomeday.”Sarahdoesthis.Shelovestoclaimthatnothinginlifecatchesherbysurprise,duetoherverymuch–unconfirmedpsychicabilitysheproclaimstohave.Ifinditoddlycomforting.
“What—whatdowedo?”Calebasks.“Whatarewegoingtodo?”heasks,nearinghysterical.
“Well,youdonothing,”Ianswer.“Asincestuousasthismayoftenfeel,you’renotthefather.”
“Thisissostrange.It’salwaysjustbeenthethreeofus.”Hepinchesthebridgeofhisnose,hiselbowproppeduponthecounter.
“Oh,darling…”Sarahsays,hertonelacedwithfakeamiability.“Youwillalwaysbeourfirstbaby.Weloveyousomuch.”
“Who’sthedad?”Calebasks,ignoringhiswifeandturningtomeasIshuttheirfridgewithanarmfulofanassortmentofsnacks.
“Tellhim,”Sarahsayssmugly,movingtostandbesideCaleb.
Iglareather,droppingmyhaulontotheircounter.“Bo,”Ianswerplainly.
“Whothehellis—”
“Robbie,”Sarahinterrupts,bursting.“Robbie!”
“Oh…shit,”Calebsays,grimacing.
SarahandIturntowardeachotherwithurgency,terrorinbothofourexpressions.
“What?Whyshit?Ishesomesortof…delinquent?”Sarahasks,turningtofaceCaleb.
“No!He’sjust…Well,he’s—”
“Youwantedtointroduceus,Caleb,”Isay,myragepiquingwithineverysyllable.“Whatdoyoumeanohshit?”
“Ithoughtyou’dhavefuntogether!”hesays,holdinguphishands,hisvoicereachinganunbelievablyhighpitch.“Ididn’tthinkthiswouldhappen!”
“Spititout,man!”Sarahyells.
“He’sCora’sex.”
Sarahgaspslikeshe’sinoneofourfavouritetelenovelas.
“What?”Iask,deathlylow.
Cora,Caleb’soldersister,isthespawnofSatan.We’veoftenjokedthatCalebissuchagoodguybecausetherewasnoevilDNAleftoncesheleftthewomb.CoratoldSarahshelookedtiredonherweddingday.Shealsoasksmetoremindherofmynameeverytimewe’reatthesameevent,eventhoughI’vebeenanadjacentpartoftheirfamilyforthebetterpartoffifteenyears.
Otherthanherbeguilingpersonality,allthatI’veheardaboutherinthelastfewyearsisthatshewasrecentlyengagedtoanddumpedbyamannamed…Robert.
“Whyisheusingsomanyidentities?”SarahaskswhatI’mwonderingoutloud,hervoicebarelyaudible.“WhydidyoutellmeaboutaRobbieandnotaRobert?”
“RobertisRobbieandBo,”Calebclarifies,asifwehaven’tputthattogether.“CorainsistedoncallinghimRobert.MydadstartedcallinghimRobbie,soIdidtoo.IthinkhemostlygoesbyBothesedays.”
“SothisisRobertwholefthisfiancéeoutoftheblue?ThatRobert?”Sarahasks,pacinginsmallcircles.
Calebgrimacesbutnods.
“Cool,cool,great.SowhatI’mhearingisthatmybabydaddyisknowntofallinlovewithwomenwhoseeminglyenjoyhuntingchildrenforsport”—Iinhalesharply,myvoicecuttingout—“andthenproceedstodropthemlikethey’rehotgarbage?”
“Well,Imean,”Sarahsays,crouchingclosertomeacrossthecounter,“somewomenarehotgarbage.”
“That’smysister!”Calebprotests
“Youknowwhosheis,”Sarahfiresbackfrombehindgrittedteeth.
“Howdidyounotknow?”Ishoutather.
“IavoidCoraliketheplague.Youknowthat!Ineverevenmettheguy!”
“IfeellikeI’mgoingtobesick,”Isay,nauseaclimbing.Butnooneislistening.SarahandCalebaresquaredoffwitheachother.Sarahispokinghischestashebacksawayslowly.
“WhythefuckwouldyoutrytosetWinupwithCora’sex?”
“It’snotasbadasitsounds.Robbieisagoodguy.He’s—”
“Thisiswhyyouhavetorunallofyourdecisionspastyourwife!”
“Wait…”Isay,fartooquietlyforthemtohearasIpressmypalmintotheclammyskinonmyforehead.
“Ididn’tthinkhe’devencometotheparty.ButheandWinareverysimilar.ClearlyIwasright!”
“Oh,becausethey’rebothdisabled?Youprick.”
Nooneelseseemstonoticethattheroomisspinningonatiltedaxis.Iwalkovertothetapandtrytosplashcoldwateronmyface.
“Obviouslynotjustthat!”
“Sowhat?Whatwouldpossessyoutodothis?”
I’mactually,verymuch,definitelygoingtobesick.
“LikeIsaid;he’sagoodguy!It’sonlytheCorathing.It’snot—”
CalebandSarahareinterruptedbythesoundofmebarfingintotheirkitchensink.CHAPTER7
WhenIleftSarah’splace,CalebwasstillonthiniceandhadbeenforcedtotelluseverythingheknewaboutRobert,Robbie,andBo.
Accordingtohim,BoandCorametwhentheywerebothinterningatsomefinance-gig.Theydidn’treallygettoknoweachotheruntiltheywerebattlingitoutforapermanentpositionayearlater.Honestly,itsoundedlikethestartofoneofSarah’sromancenovels,whichonlyfuelledmyannoyancefurther.IknowIhavezeroclaimovertheguy,butIdon’tparticularlyenjoyhimhavinganenemies-to-loversmeetcutewiththeAntichrist.
Theydatedforafewyears,offandon.Calebsaiditseemedtobeveryupanddownuntil,outofnowhere,theyannouncedtheirengagement.Thatwasjustundertwoyearsago.Theywereseeminglyinthemiddleofweddingplanningwhen,afewmonthslater,CoratoldherfamilythatBo’dleftherhighanddry.Calebapparentlyneverinquiredfurtherworst.
BoandCalebreconnectedbytotalcoincidenceatworkthispastspring.CalebhappenedtohavetonsofinformationabouttheprojectthatBohadbeenhiredtoconsultonthatneitherSarahnorIwanted.They’vebeenfriendsinaloosesensesince—mostlymeetingupatthegym,apparently,whichCalebwassupervagueabout—andhavenevereventalkedaboutCora,orthebreakup.
Menarebeyondstrange.
Calebhadverylittleelsetosay.HehadnoclueaboutwhathappenedtoBo’sleg,forexample.CalebsaidwhenhelastsawBowithCora,hedidn’thaveaprosthesis.Then,whenhestartedontheprojectforCaleb’scompany,hedid.Hethoughtitwouldberudetoask,andIsupposehe’sright.ButitmeanswhathappenedtoBowasquiterecent.Which,eventhoughIbarelyknowtheguy,makesmyheartache.That’sabig,dramaticchangetoundergo.AndBo’sgotnoideawhatfurtherchangeiscominghisway.
Couldthatbetoomuchforoneguytohandle?I’dunderstandthat.Idon’tevenlikewhenmymanageraddsanewmenuitematthecafé.
Afterclimbingupthesixflightsofstairstomyapartment,Iarriveatmyfrontdoorslightlywindedandstillatouchnauseous.Myneighboursdownthehallarearguingagain,andthelightsinthehallwayflickerlikeahorrormovie,butmyapartmentismyownpieceofheaven.Well…it’sperhapsmorelikepurgatory.
ThisapartmentwastheonlyplaceIcouldaffordonmyownafterIleftJack,andatthetime,anywherewouldhavesuitedmejustfine.Itwasanotsoperfectsolutiontoamuchbiggerproblem.ThoughIdidthinkitwouldbemoreofatemporarysolution.Idefinitelydidn’tthinkI’dbeherefouryearslater.Evenstill,I’vemadethemostofit.
TocopewiththebrutalCanadianwinters,I’vesecuredmorehouseplantsthanyouraveragegreenhouse.Iconsiderthemexcellentinvestments.Ahobby,decor,andair-purifiersallinone.Well,notinone.Indozens.Ikeepmostoftheminfrontofthelargesquarewindowthatsitsbehindthecouchthatdoublesasmybed.NotthatI’msleepingonacouch—it’sapull-out.
Ha.Pull-out.Should’vemaybetriedthat.
Ithrowmykeysontomydiningtablethatishalf-coveredbytowelsunderdryingdishesandturnontheswitchthatworksthelampinthefarcorneroftheroomabovemypurpledresser.Sure,theapartmentisoneroomplusabathroomandlessthan350squarefeet.Andthewallsareallalittleyellowfromthesmokerwholivedherebeforeme.Andthecarpetingundermycouchispermanentlystainedwithgodonlyknowswhat.AndIguessitwouldbenicetohavewindowsthatopentogetsomefreshair.ButthisplaceismineThatcountsforsomething.
It’sthefirstthingIeversavedupfor.ThefirstleaseIeversignedonmyown.ThefirsthomethatIeverlivedinbymyself.Hadcompletecontrolover.
Igrabaglassofwater,chugitback,andthenrefillitbeforeIopenthebathplaylistonmyphoneandconnecttothespeakerinmybathroom.IfollowthesoundofCaroleKing’svoice,shakingoffmyclothesasIgo.Leavingatrailbehindmeofhandmadesocks,abluesweater,orangecorduroyoveralls,beigeunderwear,andanill-fittingmatchingbra.
Whenindoubt,takeashower,mymotherusedtosay.Whenintrouble,takeabath,Marciewouldadd.Theywerealwaysspeakingintandemlikethat—littledosesoflifelessonspiggy-backedontopoftheother.
Oh,fuck.I’mgoingtohavetotellmymomaboutthebaby.
Nope.Notthinkingaboutthatyet.First,abath.
Well,first,severalthings.
Infact,mostthingsbeforeItellmymother.
I’mnoteverreallysurehowtotalktomymomaboutwhat’shappeninginmylife.SometimeafterIturnedeleven,Ibecamemoreofafriendandconfidantthanadaughter.Therewasneverenoughspaceintheconversationfortwosetsofproblems,andhersalwaysseemedmoreimportant.
Truthfully,Ithinkshewaslonely.OtherthanMarcie,shedidn’treallyhavemanyfriendsoranyfamily.HerparentswantednothingtodowithherthemomentIcameintothepicture,andshe’sanonlychild.Plus,Ithinksomepeoplehavelonelinesssortofbuiltin.Itoftenseemedthattherewasnotenoughattentionintheworldthatcouldfillthatvoidinsideher.
IworrythatIonlyrecognisethatbecauseIhaveittoo.
AndIheardwhatpeoplesaidabouther.Theotherparents.They’dcallherbrash,noisy,gaudy.They’dmakejokesaboutlockinguptheirhusbandswhenshecamearound.ButJuneMcNultyhasalwaysbeenunapologeticallyherself.I’vegottogivehercreditforthat.AndIdotrulyloveher.
Icouldhavedonewithfewerlate-nightwake-upswhenshe’dstumbledhomefromabaddate.Actually,I’dprobablygobackandrequestfewerdebriefsafterthegooddates—that’sjuststuffnodaughtershouldreallyeverhearabouttheirmother.ButIknowshetriedasbestasshecould.Thatwasherwayofcommunicating—sharingherlifewithmeandprobablyhopingI’dreturnthefavour.IjustneverfeltlikeIcould.IhadMarcietoconfidein.She’dgivemeroomtoletmythoughtspercolate,tocometoherwhenIneededto.Andshe’dlistenwithoutinterruptingorjumpingtoconclusions.
Regardless,IalwaysknewIwasloved.EvenifIwantedthelovefrommymotherdelivereddifferently.
IlightacandleandwaitforthetubtofillasIwashtheday’sdirtandgrimeoffmyfaceatthesink—seekingcomfortinhowmywarm,wetpalmsfeelonmycheeks.Allowingmyselftotakeheartydeepbreathsasmytea-treefacewashevaporateswiththesteam
Loweringmyselfintothetub,IbringbothhandstomystomachandstareattheareaItypicallyavoidlookingatfortoolong.
It’snotthatIdislikemybody,ormystomachinparticular.It’sjustthatIfindthere’slessriskofinsecurityspikingthemoreIactasifIdon’thaveabodyatall.
I,likemostwomenmyage,havelearnedtohatemyselfjustenoughtoappeaseothers.Ifyou’retoofondofhowyoulook,you’retoldyou’llbeunlikeable.Labelledasself-involved,egotistical,orstuck-up.Butit’spurposeful—pinningusagainstoneanother.Consumerismdemandsweremainunsatisfiedwithourappearance.Ifwealllikedourselves,dozensofindustrieswouldcrumblelikeBabylon.Wehavetowantasolutiontowhateverorhowevermanyproblemsplagueusinordertokeepthosefactoriesrunning.Tokeepmoneyinmen’spockets.
Acne?Wearmoremakeupthatwillonlymakemattersworse.
Stretchmarks?There’sacreamforthatandamoreexpensiveoneifneedbe
Stainedteeth?Notwiththesewhitestrips!Justdon’taskwhat’sinthem.
Toofat?Here’sadietplansoexpensiveyoucan’tevenaffordfood.
Tooskinny?Wearthisbrathatpushesupyourtits—becauseyoustillneedmassivetits.
WhatIrealised,thoughprobablyfartooyoung,isthatsomethingscan’tbe“fixed.”Therewerenotenquickwaystogrowmorefingersmagazinearticlesformetoreadasateen.NocreamsthatwouldblurorfixorcorrectmyhandJustdeeppockets,longsleeves,andstrategicposingthatkeptmyhandoutofview.Hiddenlikeallflawsshouldbe.
Andthoughitwaspositivelymortifyingatthetime,IowealottoMarcieforcallingmeonthehiding.Itwasmyfourteenthbirthdayparty,andIhadallmyfriendsmeetusatthelocalpool.Weweretakingphotostogetherwithmyfriend’sdisposablecamerawhenMarciecamestormingoverfromthesetofloungechairssheandmymotherhadclaimedearlierintheday.
“WinnifredJuneMcNulty,whatareyoudoing?”sheroared.
“Nothing,”Iansweredwithaheftydoseofattitude.
“Babygirl…”Shelaughedwithouthumour.“Therestofthesegirlshavetheirhandsupintheair.Twoarmsandtwohands.Youcancount,can’tyou?Whereareyours?”
IglaredoveratSarah,asiftosaycomegetyourmother,whenMarciereachedbetweenmeandafriendandpulledmyrightarmupintotheair,holdingitthereinatalon-likegrip.“Thisiswhoyouare,baby.Andit’sbeautiful.”Shesteppedback,admiringtherowofusgirlswithafondnessthatstillsitslodgedinmyheart.“Youcan’tchangeanythingbyhidingit.You’lljustlookbackonmemoriesandrealiseyoutriedtoeraseyourself.Andhowsadthatwouldbe.”
Itwasthewayshesaidsadthathitme.ThatIcanstillhearsoclearlytothisday.Sadlikepathetic.Which,toateenagegirl,isablownotlongforgotten.
Untilthen,Ihadn’trealisedI’dbeendoingit.Hidingproofofmyhand,asifIcouldsomedaylookbackonmylifeandforgetthatIwasdifferent.Afterthat,Itried,bitbybit,tostoperasingmyself.
Itwasalotofeffortatfirst.Alotofcatchingmyselfintheactandreadjusting.Then,slowly,overtime,itgoteasier.TothepointwhereIdidn’thavetoremindmyselfnottohideanymore—atleastontheoutside.
Theinternalstrugglewashardertokick.Theawfulgameofcomparisonandshamespiralsfollowedmethroughmostofmyadolescenceandintoearlyadulthood.IoftenstoppedmyselffromtryingbecauseIwasscaredtofail.Iwasbeingtolditwasokaytostrugglewithsimpletaskswhilealsobeingfednewsstoriesofthose…overachievers.
Thedisabledelite,ifyouwill.
Thesurferwithonearm,themountainclimberwithnolegs,adrummerwithonehand.
And,deepdown,IknewIshouldbeproudofthem.Theyweremycommunity,andtheywereonlyworkingtoerasestigmafortherestofus.ButIdidn’tfeelproud.Ifeltbitter.Jealoustoo.Angrythattheyweren’tjustgreatsurfer,record-breakingmountainclimber,andsuccessfuldrummer.Tome,theywereareminderthattheworldwillalwaysviewmedifferently—putmeinadifferentbracket—evenifIlandedmyselfonapedestal.
Ididn’twanttoachievedespitemyself.Ididn’twanttodefyanything.Ijustwantedtofeelordinary.Tonotovercompensateeveryday.Iwantedtobebadatthingsandhavepeoplelaughatmebecausethat’slife.Ididn’twantpity.
AndwhenIwasgreatatsomethinglikeswimming,Ididn’twanttofeelpraisedforwhatI’dovercome.Iwantedtojustbegood
Itfucksyouup,competingagainstlowexpectations.Nothingfeelslikeawin.
But,likemostpeople,Iagedoutofmyinsecuritiestosomeextent.Ifoundmyownrhythm.IfiguredoutwhoIwasoutsideofthehold-upsandresentmentIheld.Istartedtobuildmyidentityinthingsthatgrewconfidence.WhoIwasinsteadofwhoIwasn’torcouldn’teverbe.Istoppedhidingpartsofmyselfaway.
ThencameJack.
Whichrockedmyconfidencelikenothingelse.
Jackhadwantedtobetheheroinmystory.Atfirst.He’dholdmysmallerhandinpublicbutwouldsmileatmeinthiswayasiftosay,silently,youdon’thavetothankme.Truthfully,everyregularboyfriendthinghedidforme—thelittle,partiallyexpectedthingslikecarryingbagsoropeningdoors—wasneverforthepurposeofbeingkind.Itwasalwaysdonewithsomeulteriormotive.AnuglyattitudethatIhadn’twantedtoacknowledgeforfearofitallunravelling.
Iwashisgooddeed.
Helovedmeinspiteof;neverbecause
Eventually,Ithink,itallgrewabittootiresome.Iwasincapableinhiseyes.Nottryinghardenough.Thenhechosetobecomethevillain.Andhewasgoodatit—I’llgivehimthat.
Onenight,lateforhisfriend’sengagementparty,Iwasfiddlingwiththestrapofmyheelsfor,Isuppose,aminutetoolong.
“Justfuckingtry,Win,”Jackhadyelled,exasperatedlythrowinghisbodyaround.“Peoplearen’tgoingtospendtheirliveswaitingonyouhandandfoot.Stopbeingsogoddamnuseless.”
Suddenly,Iwasbacktobeingthatfourteen-year-oldgirlwithherhandbehindherback.Wishing,desperately,tochange.Tohide.
Attemptingtobecomelessofaburden,Iplottedoutmydaysinprecisedetail—ensuringIwouldn’thavetoaskhimtodoanythingforme.Buthewouldinevitablyfindsomethingtoyellabout.
AndevenafterIfinallylefthim,IstillfoundmyselfgratefulforJackinmylowest,mostinsecuremomentsintheyearthatfollowed.ThankfulthatIhadlearnedatleastsomeonewouldwantme.ThatIwascapableofbeingloved.
ThatscaredmefarworsethanJack’stempereverdid.ThepowerthatIhadgivenhimtovalidatemydesirability.ThepowerIcouldgivetosomeoneelseifIwasfoolishenough.SoIdecidedIwouldn’tgiveanyonethatpowereveragain.NotuntilIlovemyselfenoughthatsomeone’sfavour—ordisfavour—won’tturnthetide
It’stakenmealmostfouryearstogetbacktoaplaceofneutralityandvagueacceptanceofmyself.Somedays,likeonHalloween,IthinkI’mbeautiful.Insideandout.Othertimes,IhearJack’svoiceinmyhead,thecrueltyinhisaloof,melancholicdrawl,tellingmehowuselessIam…andIbelieveit.
ButIlearnedtonottrustthosethoughtsonce,andIcandoitagain.I’mgoingtohavetodoitagain.Becausewhatcomesnextisanentirelynewchallenge.Onethatwillrequireallmyconfidence.Theverybestofme.
Tomorrow,I’llgivemyselfpermissiontotryandfail.I’llstartplanningandoverthinkingstrategiesformotherhoodthatareadaptable.I’llbeginstockpilingbabyclotheswitheasyfasteners,researchinghands-freewrapsandcarriers,andplanontestingstrollersandcarseats.
Butfortoday,I’llpretendthatitwon’tbeanissueatall.I’llletmyselffeellikeanyoneelsewhojustfoundoutthey’repregnantunexpectedly.I’llfeelgiddyandterrifiedandnervousforalltheusualreasonswithoutaddingfurtherbaggageontop.Icangivemyselftoday.
Doingjustthat,Isinkfartherintothebathanddaydream.Eyesclosed,withmyhairflowingaroundmelikeinkinwater.Myearsunderthesurfaceblockingoutthesoundsfromsurroundingapartments,mufflingFleetwoodMac’s“Songbird”untilit’snothingbutasoftenedlullaby.
Iimagineasmall,sweetnewbornlaidacrossmychestinherewithme.Ithinkofthemanybathswe’lltaketogether.Allthewonderfulthingswe’lldotogether.Thesleeplessnightsandthetantrumsandtheteethingandalltheotherthingsparentsworryabout.Butmostly,Ithinkofthegood.Thebedtimestoriesandslow,sunbeam-filledmornings.Thewalkstotheparkwherewepickdandelionsorskipstonesatthebeach.Thecuddles,thewarmth,andthesanctityoflovingsomeonemorethanmyself
AndItellmyself,overandoverandoveragain,thatIcandothis.Until,eventually,Ifeellikeit’satleastalittletrue.CHAPTER8
NineWeeksPregnant.Babyisthesizeofagrape.
InhalingfeelsnearlyimpossibleasIapproachtheendofthecountertopickupmyorder.Everythingonthecafé’smenusoundeddisgusting.Justasmostfoodshaveforthelastweek.Evenbetter,whenthefoodisacceptabletomybrain,Istillthrowituplater.
DoctorSalimcallsitmorningsickness,asifitdoesn’thappeneveryhourofthedamnday.Shedidsayitwouldmostlikelystopinthesecondtrimester,andIprayshe’sright.
Buttoday’snauseaisnotfromthetinybabygrowinginsideme.No,thisistheresultofaweekspentmullingoveranimaginaryconversationandstillnotbeingsureofwhattosaywhenBoarrives.It’sfromnotknowinghowhe’llrespondorwhatmyreactiontohisresponsewillbe.
Granted,myemotionshavebeenextremelyupanddown—again,tobeexpected—butthisconversationispit-in-your-stomach,sweating-when-it’s-cold-outscary.
Duringthispastweek,I’vebegunattemptingtocalmmyselfwithapeacefulvisualisationentirelyfrommyimagination.Me,onthebeachinJuly.Mybellyhuge,stickingoutfarpastmybikini,andmybrightlypaintedtoespressedintothesand,withawarmbreezeblowingmyhairoffmyface.Ihavebothhandsonmystomach,feelingthebabykickingupastormastheseagullsflyoverheadandthewavescrashashore.
Ithink,deepdown,I’mremindingmyselfthateitherway,itwillbeokay.I’llstillhaveme,thebeach,andthisbabycomesummertime,evenifBoreactspoorly.Evenifhewantsnothingtodowithus.I’llstillhavemypeace.Ijustmighthavetoworkalittleharderforit.
Ithankthebarista,takingmyLondonFogtoasmallroundtabletuckedawayinthemostprivatecornerofthecafé.Isitfacingthedoorandwaitfortheblondgianttoarrive,fightingtheurgetofleethroughthebackexitorabathroomwindow.
ItwasalittleembarrassingtohavetoaskBotograbcoffee,consideringthelasttimeweweretogether,hewasgettingdressedtoleavemomentsafterhe’dbeeninsideofme.
I’msurehewasunderthesameimpressionIwas—thatwe’dneverseeorhearfromeachotheragain.Therewouldbenofollow-up,nodates,certainlynocoffeemeet-upsonarandomSundaymorningtwomonthslater.Butheagreedtomeetme.Sothat’sastart.Enthusiasticallyso,actually.
ME:HeyBo,thisisWin.TheotherpiratefromHalloween…Iwaswonderingifyou’dbefreetograbcoffeethisweekend?
BO:Win,hey.Youdidn’thavetofollowupyourname.Irememberyou,obviously.Andyeah,I’mupforgrabbingcoffee.DoyouknowSaintsonCosgroveAve?Sundayatten?
Thecafédoorchimes,andinwalkstheunknowingfather-to-be.Anddammit,he’sevenmoregorgeouswhenhe’snotdressedasaswashbuckler.He’sgotonalongbeigesportcoatandscarfwithagreenknittedsweaterunderneath.Blackjeanswithmatchingblackboots.HisbeardisalittlelongerthanitwasonHalloween,andhishairisstilljustasunruly.Hewavesatmefromthedoorwayashekicksthesnowoffhisboots,abroadsmileovertakinghisface.Thenhepointstothecounter,silentlyasking,doyouwantanything?
Iholdupmymuginresponse.Hethrowsmeathumbs-up,turningtowardthebaristatoorder.
Poorguyhasnoideahiswholelifeisabouttochange.
Irealise,suddenly,thatI’mtheDoctorSaliminthissituation.Ihavetotrytoremaincool,factual,andcompassionate.Butshit,Idon’tknowifIcanbe.I’mstillreelingtoo.AndI’mflusteredaroundhim.I’verunintopasthookupsaccidentally.Thecityisn’tsobig.ButI’vealwaysbeenabletoplayitoff.This,Icertainlycan’tplayoff.There’snothingcoolorcasualaboutthis.
Eventually,hemakeshiswayoverwithawide-mouthedmugandaplatefilledwiththreedifferentpastries.Igrindmyteeth,wonderingifhe’llwishhe’dgottenthemto-go.
“Ithoughtwecouldsharethese,”Bosays,settingtheplateonthetablebetweenus.“And,uh,hi,”hechimeswarmly,loweringintotheseatacrossfromme,unwindinghisbrownscarf.“Thiswasapleasantsurprise.”
“Hi,”Iforceout.MyvoicealreadyhastheI’msosorrylilttoit.“Um,howareyou?”Iask.
“I’mokay.”Botiltshisheadandpusheshistongueagainstthecornerofhismouth,eyeingmesceptically.
IcantellIlooknervous,soit’snotexactlysurprisingthathe’salreadywatchingmewithsuchconcern.Mylipsarerubbingtogetheragainstmywill,andmyeyesaretwitchingslightly,probablyblinkingalittletoomuch.Plus,Ican’tseemtositstill.
Iattempttoforceasmile,butIcantellit’sunconvincingwhenBo’seyebrowsknittogethersubtly.
Heclearshisthroatwithafistinfrontofhismouthandcontinues.“Workhasbeenbusy.Um,italwayspicksupthecloserwegettotheholidays.Beforeweshutdownforalittlebit.Buthonestly,er,notmuchelseisgoingon.”Helaughshalf-heartedly,studyingmyexpressionsomemore.
“Right,”Iagree.
Hetakesalongsipofhiscoffee,hiseyesdartingtomybouncingkneeatthesideofthetable.“Win,areyou—”
“I’mpregnant,”Iinterruptloudly,allthebreathleavingmylungsatthesametimethewordspassthroughmylips.
Bopalesinstantly.Hisshouldersfalllikehe’sforgottenhowtosupporthisownweight.“What?”
“I’msorry,”Iwhisper,“Icouldn’tholdthatinanylonger.”
“You’re…”Heswallows,lookingatthetablebetweenus.Heraiseshishandsfromhislapandplacesbothpalmsflatonthetableashehunchesover.“Didyousay,”hetiltsuptolookatme,hiseyeswideandunblinking,“that…you’repregnant?”
“Yes.I-Idid.”
Henods.Then,again.Thensomanytimesitseemslikehisneckmightbebroken.“Okay.Allright.Okay.AndI,uh,Igatheryou’retellingmebecause…”Heinhalesalong,tremblingbreath,stillnoddingtohimself.
“Yes.Youare,”Ianswer.
“Wow.”Hepinchesthebridgeofhisnose,takingadeepbreath.Thenherocksgentlyinhischair,hispalmplacedovertophismouthwithhisfingerscradlinghischeek.“Okay,”hesaysintohishand.“Okay,”herepeats,droppingitaway.
“Iknowit’salot.”Wringingmyhandsinmylap,IlookatthenexttableoverandwonderhowmanytimesinmylifeI’vesatnexttolife-alteringconversationsandremainedblissfullyunaware.“I’msorry,”Iofferagain.
“No,uh,I—”Hisbreathshakessomemoreashereachesforhiscoffeeandtakesanotherlongsip.“Wow,”hesays,swallowing.
“Yeah,”Iagree.Ilookovertotheendofthecounterandnoticeapitcherofwaterandglassware.“Wouldyoulikesomewatermaybe?”Ioffer.Mostly,Ijustwanttoleavethetable,evenifonlyforafewseconds.
“Oh.Uh,yeah.Sure.Thanks.”
Istandandpourtwoglasses,gratefulforthemomentarydistancebetweenmyselfandthebombIjustdropped.“Here,”Isay,placingitinfrontofhimandtakingmyseat.
Hechugsthewholethinginonego.“Shit,sorry.Um,howareyoufeeling?Howareyou?How—howareyou?”
“I’mokay,”Ianswerhonestly.“I’vebeensickalot.Nauseous.ButI’mokay.We,er,we’reokay.”Iplaceahandonmybellyunderthetableandoutofviewfromhim.
Meetyourdad,kid.
“Ireallydidn’tseethiscoming.”Bo’seyesfinallystopbouncingaroundtheroom,andheholdsthemonme,confusionovertakinghim.Hiswholefacedroopsinconcentration.Icanpracticallyseehisbrainreplayingoureveningtogetherandtheexactmomenthegetstothemissingcondoms.
“NeitherdidI.”Iclearmythroat.“I…Iwasn’tlyingwhenIsaidIwasonthepill.”
“No,Ididn’tthinkthat.”Hisbrowsfurrowashequicklyshakeshishead
“Iwasn’ttryingto…youknow…getknockeduporanything.”
“Right.”
“Thesethingsjusthappen,sometimes.”Ishrug,tryingtoactnonchalantwhereallIfeelischalant.Verychalant.
Borubstwopalmsdownhisface,dragginghisskinintheirpath.“So…dowe—dowegetmarried?”
“What?”Ijumpback.“No!What?Whywouldwegetmarried?Wedon’tevenknoweachother!”
Hesitsstraighter,blowingoutabreath.“Sorry,I’mnotsurewhatcameovermejustthen.”
“Theghostofyourgreat-grandfather,evidently,”Isay.
“Butthen,whatdoIdo?HowdoIhelp?WhatcanI—”
“Bo,I’vedecidedtokeepthebaby,”Iinterrupt.“Idon’texpectanythingfromyou,butIwillworkwithyouhere.Howeverinvolvedyouwanttobeisfinebyme,butyoushouldknowthatIwillexpectyoutostickaroundifyouagreetobeintheirlife.Thisisn’tgoingtobeagameofhide-and-go-seekfather.Youwantthebaby?Youalsohavetobethereforthekid,theteenager,andtheadulttoo.Understand?”
ThatwastheonlypartIrehearsed.ItcameoutslightlydifferentfromhowIplanned,butIdofeelaweightliftedhavingsaidwhatIcameheretosay.Atleastpartofit.Therest,now,isuptohim.
“Okay,”hesays,hislipsslightlypartedandhiseyesdistantonceagain.
Forwhateverreason,thatperplexingexpressiononhisfaceslowsme.He’ssoforlorn—likesomethingevenheavierisweighinghimdown.Heavierthanthis,somehowIwanttoinquire,butitmightbenoneofmybusiness.We’repracticallystrangers,afterall.
Still,sympathyforhimbuilds.He’shandlingthisrelativelywell,andfromwhatIknowsofar,heseemslikeagoodguy.MaybeIwasatouchharsh.“Youdon’thavetodeciderightnow,obviously,”Isaygently,attemptingtosoftentheblow.
Hecomesbackfromthefar-offland,hisstarefocusedandcertainashethreadshisfingerstogetherinfrontofhimonthetable.“No,I-Iamin.HowevermuchIcanbe.HoweverIcansupportyoumost,I’min.Definitely.”
“Oh,”Iwhisperinvoluntarily.“Right,”Iconcur.
“I’msorry,”hesaysonanexhale.
“It’snoone’sfault.”Ibitemylip,reconsidering.“Well,actually,it’sdefinitelyourfault.Bothofus.Acollectivefault.Isuckattakingmybirthcontrolontime,neitherofushadcondoms,andyouprobablycouldhavepulledout.”
“Ididn’tthink—”Hestopstotakeapythonbiteofsomesortofchocolatepastryfromhisplate—chewingandnoddingtohimself.Thenanotherbite,inwhichhefinishesthewholething.After,hereachesforanotherpastryanddoesthesame.“IthoughtIcouldn’t,”hesays,mouthfull.
“Couldn’twhat?”Iask.Havesex?Hesaidithadn’thappenedsincehe’dlosthisleg.Butthatcertainlyhappened.Ialreadyknowthat’swhyhewasn’tcarryingaroundcondoms,ifthat’swhathemeans.
Heswallowsthefooddowninalargegulp.“Win,there’ssomethingIthinkIshouldtellyou…”Bopicksupanotherpastry,clearingtheplateatarecord-breakingspeed.
Idecidethathe’sanervouseateroncehethrowsthefinalpastrybackwholeandstruggleswithituntilheswallowsandtakesasipofcoffeeaftertowashitdown.
“Thingsinmylifewerenotgoingaccordingtoplanafewyearsback,andIdidn’t…”Heglancesfromsidetoside,appearingasifhe’drathercrawloutofhisskinthansaywhatever’snext.It’snowthatInoticehebarelyfitsinthecafé’schair,hisframeovertakingit.Forsomeonesophysicallylarge,heappearssosmallrightnow.He’sshrunkeninonhimself,hisfaceyoungerthanbefore.Whenhefinallystopsfightingit,herollshisneckandsitsupstraighter,hischestrisingonaconsiderablylongbreath.
“Ihadcancer,”hesaysabruptly.“Bonecancer.Stagethree.Iwasdiagnosedshortlyaftermytwenty-eighthbirthdayandhadmysurgerylastOctober.Itwasa—ithasbeenadarktimeforme.Ididn’tfreezemyspermbeforetreatment.Ididn’tthinkI’dbearoundtouseit,andIdidn’tthinkI’dwantto.Ihadjustgottenoutofarelationship,anditallfeltprettyhopeless.”
“Oh,”Isay,startled.“I’msosorry,I…”Myvoicefadesawaytonothing.Whatistheretosay?Nothinguseful.NothingthatcouldpossiblycapturehowmuchIwishhehadn’thadtogothroughthat.
IattempttoslotcancerintothetimelineI’vebeguncraftinginmyhead,filledwithmostlyuselessinformationfromCaleb.IrealisethatthiswouldbearoundthetimeofthesuddenengagementandsubsequentbreakupwithCora.
Idragmyeyesupfromthecornerofthetabletowardhisface.“Bo,Iamso—”
“Ijust…Ididn’tthinkthiswaspossible,”heinterrupts,wipingatearfromtheapexofhischeek.Hissmile-risencheek.“Shit,sorry,”hesays,coughing.“Ijust…”
ThisisamuchbiggerconversationthanIplannedfor.Myheartbreaksforthemanacrossfrommeandyetfeelsputbacktogetheratonce.Relievedbythepromising,wonder-struckexpressioninhisfeatures.
Ireachacrossthetable,placingmyhandagainsthiselbow.Whenhefeelsmytouch,heremoveshishandfromhisfaceandmovestoholdmyhandinstead,bringingmywristtohismouthandpressinghislipstomypulsepoint.
It’snotsexualatall.It’sforthepurposeofgivingandreceivingcomfort.It’sbecauseneitherofusknowswhattosaynext.
“I’mgoingtobehonest.Iwasnotexpectinghappytears,”Isay,halfjoking,tryingmybesttogivehimareassuringsmileashedropsourhandstothetablebetweenus.
Bo’slaughisbittersweet.“NeitherwasI.”Heclearshisthroat.“Sorry,Ididn’tmeantomakethisaboutme.”
“Ihadmystar-of-the-showmomentatthedoctor’soffice.Andeverydaysince,”Isay.
“Youseem…calm?”heasks,sortof
“Um,yeah.IthinkIam.Ifeelokay.WhenI’mnotthrowingup.Iwasreallyscaredabouttellingyou,actually,butotherthanthat,Ifeelweirdlyatpeaceaboutitall.I’vealwayswantedakid;Ijustdidn’tthinkitwouldbethisunplanned.”
Henods,studyingmeasifhe’smemorisingmywords.It’stoomuch.Almost.HimstaringasifIholdtheanswertothispredicamentofours.“Plus,asfarasbabydaddiesgo,minehasprettygoodDNA,”Isay,puttingtheattentionbackonhimasIremovemyhandfromhisandplaceitbackontomylap.
“Minusthecancer,”hesaysmeekly,hiseyesholdingonmelikeanapologyisbeingwhisperedbetweenus.
Thenitdawnsonme.Thereasonforhisfar-offlookearlier—hisuncertaintyaboutbeingabletocommittoeveryfuturestage.“Areyoustillsick?”Iaskcautiously,myheartinmythroat.
“No.I’mnot.Igettestedeveryfewmonths,andit’sbeenclearforoverayearnow.But—”Hebreathesinthroughhisteeth,shufflinginhischair.“There’salwaysthechanceitcouldcomebacksomewhereelse.”
Nausearisesagain.
“I’msorry,”hesayswithatilted,uneasyfrown.“Iknowthataguaranteewouldbenice.”
“No,Bo…Don’t.”Ishakemyheadthat’shangingbetweenus.“There’snoguaranteeforanyofus.Wejusthavetodothebestwiththetimewe’vegot,”Isay,tiltinguptolookathim.
Hisnosetwitches,alongwithhislips,anunexpectedgrinappearing.“We’respeakinginclichésnow,huh?”heteases.
Iscoff,despitemyownsmilegrowing.“Shutup,”Iwhisper,laughing.“Sorry.There’snofinding-out-your-surprise-baby-daddy-had-cancerhow-toguide.Idon’tknowwhattodohere.IthoughtI’dbetheonewithallthejuicynewstoday.”
“No,Iappreciateit,”hesayswithnosincerity,“tryaddingsomethinglikethere’sareasonforeverything.”
Irollmyeyes.
“Ooh!Oryou’resobrave—Ialwayslikedthatone.”
“Youknow,actually,thiswasallanelaborateruse.I’mnotpregnant.I’llbeonmyway.”Icrossmyarms,leaningbackinmychairandsmirking.
“No?”heasks.“Wow,youarefullofsurprises.”
“Iwasjustbored,youknow?FiguredmaybeIcouldgetafreecupofcoffeeoutofit.Butit’snotworthit.You’refartooannoying.”
Helickshislips.Themischievousgleaminhiseyetellsmehe’sthinkingofhisnextquip.Iwaitimpatiently,rememberinghowfunthisrapportbetweenusis.Thenheblinksandshakeshimself,wipingtheexpressionfromhisfaceentirely.
“Whendidyoufindout?”heaskssoftly.
Oh,right.Isupposewe’vegotmoreimportantthingstodiscuss.
“Lastweek.ThebabyisdueJulytwenty-fourth.”Ilookattheemptiedplatebetweenus,coveredinsugardustandcrumbs.“AndIhaveanultrasoundbookedfornextFriday.”
“Friday?”heasks,pullingouthisphone.“Whattime?”
“Yeah.Four.”
“Where?”Helooksup,thumbspoisedtotype.
“ThecliniconWestNinth—it’sabluebuilding.”
Hetypesthatintohisphone,nodding,thentucksitintohisfrontpocket.“Wantmetopickyouup?”
“You…you’recoming?”Iask.
“Obviously.”
“No,uh,I’llmeetyouthere.”
“So…”Hesmilesweakly,takingabreaththatseemstocalmhimsome.“Whathappensnow?”
“Canyougetusmoresnacks?”Ipointtothegraveyardofpastries.“I’mhungry.”
Theabruptnessinwhichhestandsandwalksovertothecountertoordermakesmeshakemyhead,asmallsmileforming.
Adangerousfeelingeruptsinmychest.Agoofy,body-possessingtypeofaffectionforthisman.Ishoveitdownandblamethehormones,someprimalpartofmyDNAtellingmetostickclosetothemanIprocreatedwith.
Atleast,giventhatwe’llhavetospend—youknow—foreverinproximity,he’snotentirelyintolerable.CHAPTER9
TenWeeksPregnant.Babyisthesizeofastrawberry.
“Happytears?”Sarahasks,flippingachairontoatableformetosweepunder.She’sbeenstoppingbythecaféattheendofmyshiftforyears.Returninglikeastraycat,knowingtheleftoverpastriesmustgosomewhere.Butsheusuallyendsupcleaningalongsideme.Iliketoteaseherthatshe’scosplayingasawomanwhohastopayherownbills.Shejokesback,disturbingly,abouthowsheearnsherlifestyleinthebedroom.
“Happytears,Sar.”Iflashmyeyesather,handrestingatthetopofmybroom.“TrulythelastthingIwasexpecting.”
“Butthat’sgood,right?”Sheliftstheoppositechair,placingitupsidedownonthetable.
“Itfeltgoodinthemomentbut—”
“Butyouwenthomeandstartedoverthinking,”Sarahinterruptsme.Iglareather.Shesighs,hereyesmusteringsomeamountofpatience,butherexpressiontired.“Win,sometimesgoodthingsarejustgoodthings.Bowashappyaboutthekid.Let’scelebratethat.”
Imakeascepticalwhiningsoundfromthebackofmythroat.“IthoughtJackwassweetatfirst.Hedidalltherightthingstoo.”
Inoticeiteachtime.ThelittleflickerSarah’seyesdowhenIbringupJack.SheperformsaquicksurveillanceofmyfacetodeterminehowupsetIamjustatthementionofhisname.Myownmention,mindyou.
“BoisnotJack,”shesayscarefully.
“Youhaven’tevenmetBo,”Ipointout.
“Calebvouchesforhim,andItrustmyman,”shesays,reachingforanotherchairtostackforme.
Istopsweeping,thinkingabouthowwrongI’vebeenbefore.Howwellsomemenhidetheiruglysideandhowquicklytheycanturn.“Ineedtogettoknowhimmore,right?Like,hewantstobeinvolvedandcometoalltheappointmentsandstuff.Butwe’rebasicallystrangers.Whatifhewantstobeinthedeliveryroom?He’llseeeverything,”Isay,grimacing.
“Boseeingeverything”—Sarahgestureswildlywithanopenpalmtowardmyhips—“ishowyougotintothissituation.”Shetakesthebroomfromme,asI’veapparentlylosttheabilitytospeakandsweepatthesametime.“Ithinkyou’llbefine.”
Ishudder.“There’sadifferencebetweenadimmedbedroomafterafewdrinksandahandsomestrangerstandingbetweenmystirrup-partedlegsandlookingintotheeyeofthestorm.”
“Didyoujustrefertoyourvaginaastheeyeofthestorm?”
“Inthatdeliveryroom?Yes.Thatiswhatitwillbe.”
“Hedoesn’thavetobethereifyoudon’twanthimto.Butfortherecord,”shepauses,puttingafirmhandonmyshoulder,“Iloveyou,butIwillnotbethere.”
“Sarah,youfaintatnosebleeds.Iwon’tletyounearmewhileI’minlabour.”
“Evenjustthinkingaboutitmakesmeill,”shewhispers,herattentionlostovermyshoulder.
“Yes,thankyou.”Istareatherblankly.“That’sveryhelpful.”
Sherollshereyes,thenfollowsmetothenexttable,sweepingaroundthecounternexttoitasIwipethetabledown.“TheultrasoundisFridayafternoon,right?Ifhe’sfreeafterward,youshouldinvitehimtoourplace.We’lldoagamenight.Ifweallteamup,wecanseehowhereactstolosing.That’slikeafundamentaltestofstability.”
“He’sprobablytravellingthisweekendfortheholidays.HisdadlivesinFrance.”
“See?Youdoknowstuffabouthim!”Shesweepsupthemessintoadustpan.“Justinvitehim.Ifhe’sbusy,he’sbusy.ButIdoubthe’llsaynotoanextrabitoftimewithhissexybabymama.”Sheshimmieshershouldersatme,wagglingherbrows.“Maybehe’lltrytoknockyouupagain.”
“Therewillbeabsolutelynoneofthat.”
“Whatareyouworriedabout?Twins?That’snothowitworks.”
“Wehaveto…”Isay,tryingtoformulatewordsasSarahdancesagainstmesuggestively.“Wehavetoremainentirelyprofessional.We’recolleaguesnow.”
Shestopsdancing,mid-pelvicthrust.“Colleagues?”
“Fine,notcolleagues.Butyougetmypoint.Wehavetostilllikeeachotherinninemonths.Hell,wehavetolikeeachotherforthenexteighteenyears.Minimum.”
Sarahnods,standingslowlyandfoldingherarmsacrossherchest.“But,”shesaystentatively,“woulditbesobadifmaybeyouwerelikeco-parentswithbenefits?Obviously,youhavechemistry.Andthesexwasgood.”
“Ineversaidthesexwasgood.”
Shepointstomyface,barelystoppingshortofpokingmewiththetipofheracrylicnail.“Butthatdoes.EverytimeBohascomeup,youblushalittle.You’rebetrayedbythosesweet,supplecheeksofyoursyetagain.”
“Don’tsayweirdshitlikesupplecheekswhileyou’rethisclosetome.”Iswatherhandaway.“Fine,”Igivein,“thesexwasgood.”Possiblythebestever.ThoughIdon’taddthataloud“Butitwouldstillcomplicatethings,”Iargue.
“Ormakethingsfun?FromwhereI’mstanding,Boisahottiewithniceclothes,baby-newshappytears,agreatsenseofhumour,agoodjob,andahouseofhisown.Allyourwords;notmine.”Shestandsstraighterandstickshernoseup,actinglikeasit-comcharacterfromthefifties.“Ohgolly,whattrouble!Isuredohopeyoudon’tfallinlovewithamansuchasthis!”
Iresisttheurgetoflickhernoserightoutoftheair.“You’reincorrigible.”
“Andyou’renotthinkingofallyouroptionshere,babe.”Shehopsupontothecounterandbrushesoffherhands.“Just,don’tcloseyourselfofftogettingtoknowhiminmorewaysthanone,”Sarahsays,surprisinglyearnest.“Youdeservegoodthings.Let’sseeifhe’sagoodthing.That’sallI’msaying.”
“Heisagoodthing,Sar.Forthekid.”Ilifttositnexttoheronthecounter.“He’sgoingtostickaround,andthat’sallIneedfromhim.”
“Okay,Ihearyou.”Sheletsafewsecondsofweightedsilencepass,butIknowshe’snotdone.Sarahrarelybacksdown.“But…”Thereitis.“StopmewhenI’mclosetothesizeofhisdick.”Sheplacesherpalmstogetherinfrontofherandslowlystartsseparatingthem.Hermouthcontinuestofallfartheropenasherhandsdriftfartherapart.
“Yep.There,”Isaywithasatisfiedsmile.
“Seriously?”Sarahwhispers,eyesplayful.
“Seriously,”Ianswer,feelingawfullyproudofmyselfforsomethingthatiscertainlynotanachievement.Atleastnotmyachievement.
“Nowonderyougotpregnant.Theguyhadadirectlineofsighttoyourovaries!Acleanshot!”
“I’mbuyingyouananatomybookforChristmas.”
“Iblameourhealthclassteacher,”Sarahsighs.
“DonotbringMrs.Foresteinintothis.Shetriedherbest.”Ilookaroundthecafé,cleanedandpreppedforthemorningshifttotakeover.Still,Ifindmyselfnotwantingtoleavejustyet.Wedothissometimes,lingerlongpastclosed.Goinghomecanbehard,admittedly.It’satouchlonelythere.
“I’llinvitehimFriday.”Iattempt—andfail—togracefullylowermyselfoffthecounterandnearlyrollanankle.“Butdon’tpullanything.Noshenanigans.”
“Itwillbepurelyaninvestigativemissiononthebehalfofmyfutureniece,”Sarahsays,handsclaspedoverherheart.
“Ornephew,”Iadd,reachingoutmyhandtohelpherdown.
“Hey,uh…”Sarahgetsuncharacteristicallytimid,lookingatourhandspressedtogether.“Haveyouconsideredwhetherthey’llhavealittlehandtoo?”
“Thebaby?”Iask.“Oh,uh,no.Ithinkit’srandom.Notgenetic.”
“Right,but,like,thetheorywasthatit’sbecauseofyourmom’suterus,right?Likeyourhandwaspushedupagainstthesideofit?Heruteruswasaweirdshapeorsomething?”
“That’swhatMomalwayssaid,but…whoknows?”
“So,like,areuteruses-esesgenetic?”shefumbles.
“Idon’tknow,”Isay,zoningoutoverhershoulder.“I’mnotsure.”
Sarah’ssmileissmallbutreassuringassheleansintoview.“You’dhavewickedsecrethandshakes.”
Itakeadeepbreath,bringingmyselfbackintotheroom.Itisthatsimple,Isuppose.Nothingtoworryabout,becausewewon’tknowuntilweknow,andevenifthatisthecase,it’snotabadthing…right?“Wewould,”Iagree.
“Let’sgetyouhome.”Sarahthrowsherarmaroundmyshouldersandguidesmetowardthebackdoor.CHAPTER10
Ihadtoleaveworkearlytomakeittotheultrasoundontime.Thankfully,thecafé’sowner,Lisa,isunquestionablyhighmostdaysanddoesn’tparticularlycareaboutanyofherstaff’spersonallives,interests,or—quiteoften—names.Shedidn’tbothertoaskwhatthenatureofmyappointmentwaswhenshesentmeonmyway.
I’vebeenworkingatthecafélongenoughthatI’veearnedthatleveloftrust.Enoughtobailontheendofmyshift,atleast.I’mnottechnicallyasupervisor,butI’vepickedupafewextrataskshereandtherewhenasked.
Imaketheschedule,mostlysoIcancontrolwhoclosesthenightbeforeIopen.IalsotrainthenewemployeeswhenLisa’snotaround.ButIdon’twantthetitleofassistantmanager,thoughshe’sofferedittomeafewtimes.Thattitlecomeswithexpectationsofstickingaround.Itwasneversupposedtobeapermanentposition.I’vehadonefootoutthedoorsinceIstarted.NotthatI’vedoneanythingtogettwofeetout.
SnowhasjuststartedfallingwhenIgetoffthebusandbeginwalkingtowardthebigbluemedicalbuildingacrossthestreet.Walkingthroughthefrontdoors,IspotBointhelobby.He’sstandingunderadirectionalsign,lookingdownathisphone.ImakeaquicknotethattheultrasoundofficeisonthesecondfloorbeforelookingathimasImakemywayover.
He’swearingabrownsuedecoatandbluejeans.Muchmorecasualthanhisoutfitfromlastweekatthecafé,butstillmoreput-togetherthanmeinmyblackyogapantsandatealsweaterIknitlastwinterzippedundermyknee-lengthpuffypurplejacketandfar-too-longscarfthatI’venearlysuffocatedmyselfunder.
HaveImentionedIhatewinter?
“Well,fancymeetingyouhere,”Ichime,unwindingthescarffromaroundmyneck.
WhenBolooksup,he’salreadysmiling.“Hey,you.”Heslipshisphoneintohisbackpocket.“We’vegottostopbump-ingintoeachotherlikethis,”hesays,awfullyproudofhimself.
“Really?Bumping?”Iraiseabrow.
Heshrugs,hischeekygrinfartoowideforhisface.Hisstupidlyhandsomeface.
“Ready?”Iask,tiltingmychintowardthestairs.
Henods,immediatelyfollowingmeasIstartwalkingtowardthesecondfloor.“Oh,wait,”Bosaysurgently,reachingformyhand.Hetugsmecloserbymywrist,andIhuffinabreathatthesurpriseofbeingpulledtoanabruptstop.
“Sorry.BeforeIforget.”Hepullshisphonebackoutofhispocketandholdsitupinfrontofus,turninghiscameraaroundsoheandIfillupthesmallscreen.“Three,two…”Click.
Ismileautomaticallywhenpresentedwithmyownreflection,butI’mstillquestioningwhywejusttookaphototogetherinthemiddleofthelobbywhenBoplaceshisphoneintohispocketandstartswalkingtowardthestairsasifnothingoddhappenedatall.
“Whatwasthat?”Iask,mytonehalfamusementandhalfconfusion.
Bopoutsdisingenuously,asiftosayoh,youpoorthing.“Acellphone,honey.”
“Yes,thankyou.I’mfamiliar.Butwhydidyoutakeourphoto?”Andyouprobablyshouldn’tcallmehoney.Itdoesthingstomystomach.LikewhatI’dexpectacartwheelinspacetofeellike.
“I’mdocumenting!We’reabouttomeetourkid.Idon’twanttoforgetanything.”
“Okay.”Ismile,despitemyeyesnarrowinginonthisstrange,strangeman.“Fairenough.”Ichargeupthesteps,makingittothefirstlandingbeforedreadsetsoverme,realisingBo’shalfastaircasebehind,walkingathisown,necessarypace.
Ifighttheurgetoapologiseanddrawmoreattentiontoourdifferenceinspeed,andinsteaddecidetoactasifI’mfascinatedbytheshittymuralonthelandinguntilBo’sonceagainnexttome.ThenIwalkslower,matchinghispaceuntilwereachtheultrasoundoffice.
Igivemynameandidentificationtothereceptionistbeforewe’reseatedinawaitingroomalongsideaverypregnantwomanandherpartner.Theroomhasbrightbluewallsandawfulfluorescentlighting.Decalsofbutterfliesandforestanimalshalf-clingtothewalls,andthere’sasmallselectionofmagazinesinthecorner,whichthefar-more-pregnantladyisriflingthrough.
Shelooks…smug.Rubbingherbellylikeit’safortuneteller’scrystalball.Smilingwithapointed-upnoseasifshe,andshealone,iskeepingthehumanspeciesfromextinction.
“Firstone?”sheasks,hervoicelikespunsugarasshepointstowardmystomach.Shesnapsthatfingerbackintoplace,raisinghershoulderswithgiddyamazement.
Inod,wearingapolite,thin-lippedsmile.
“Yourfirstissospecial.Oh,butyoumustbereallyscared,”shepoutsinsincerely.
Noshit.
“Poorthing,”shecoos,frowning.
DidIanswerherthattime?IcheckwithBo,who’ssuddenlyfascinatedbythenonexistentlintonhisjeans,pickingathisknee.Hissubtleside-eyematchedwithhistiltedsmirktellsmehe’salsohearinghowridiculousfertile-Myrtleisbeing.Though,basedonhertone,shemightpreferMotherMaryashernickname.
“Thisisprobablyourlastscan.”SheplacesahandwithadiamondringsolargeonherstomachthatIworryabouttheload-bearingweightofherplacenta.“We’rethirty-nineweeks.”Sheplacesherotherhandonherhusband’sshoulder.He’sbeamingatherwithpride,hiseyesgluedtoher.HelooksdistinctlylikeNedFlanders,withabushymoustacheandagolly-goshwayabouthim.
“We’llbehavingthisbabyanydaynow,”NedchimestoMyrtle,loudenoughfortheroomtohear.
“Wow,andyou’renotevenshowing.”Ipointtohisstomach,wearingashit-eatinggrinthatcouldbemistakenasfriendly.
“Ohboy,she’sfunny.”Myrtlepointstome,lookingatBo.“Hopefullythat’sgenetic.”
“Funnywife,happylife—that’swhatIalwayssay,”Nedaddsfrombesideher.
Bogivesmethesmallest,briefestglancethatasksaboutahundredthings.Iagree,silently,toallofthem.
“Oh,Iwouldn’tknow.Weonlyjustmetinthelobby.Iwantedtoseewhatallthefusswasabout,andsheallowedmetofollowherup,”Bodelivers,deadpan.
“I’mGuinevere,bytheway.”Ipresentmyhandtoshake.“Sorry,forgottointroducemyselfbefore.”
“Lance,”hereplies,lookingatthecoupleacrossfromus.“Youare?”
“Melissa…”sheanswers,oddlyshyallofasudden.
“Ted.”Closeenough.
“Goodtomeetyouboth.”Bobowshisheadacrosstheaisle.“Andyou,”hesays,winkingatme,outofournewfriends’view,astonotblowourcover
“So…you’renotthefather?”Ted(née:Ned)asks.
“Whosefather?”Boreplies,dumbfounded.
“Herbaby.”Tedlooksatme,hislipspartedandpointingawayfromoneanother.Poormancouldnotbemoreconfused.
“Oh!Gwen’sbaby?”Bopointstomewithhisthumb.
Ifightalaughsohardmynosetwitches.
“Yes,”Tedclarifies,growingmorebewilderedbythesecond.Blesshim.Melissaonlylooksannoyed,glaringathercuticles.
“No,heisn’t,”Iconfirm,myvoicewavering.“But,”IturntoBo,“ifyouareavailable,thejobcanbeyours.”
“Oh,wow.”Boplacesahandacrosshisheart,holdingeyecontactwithme.Ittakeseverythinginmenottocrackasmile.“Iwouldbehonoured…”
Melissaclearsherthroat,capturingourattention.“Youknow,ifyoudidn’twanttotalk,youcouldhavejustsaidso.Youdon’thavetoberude.”
Ted,seeminglyoblivious,isstillenrapturedbyourlittleperformance.“Soyoudon’tknowwhothedadis?”
“It’sabitofaMammaMiasituation,I’mafraid,”Ianswer.
“Herewegoagain,”BomuttersunderhisbreathasMelissapullsTedtowardherandbeginswhisperingintohisear.Oncefinishedtellingherhusbandtostopinteractingwithus,MelissareachesnexttoherandopensaPeopleMagazinefromtheearly2000swithanaggressiveflourish.
BoandIavoideyecontact,butIfeelhisshouldersshakingnexttomineashesuppresseshislaughtertonomorethanafewbrokenbreaths.I’veonlyeverbeenthatstupidinpublicwithSarah,knowingthatshe’dalwayshavemyback.IsupposeitcanbetakenasagoodsignthatbeingstupidalongsideBocamesoeasily.
ThoughIdofeelalittlebadforTed.Sweet,simpleTed.
“McNulty?”Thetechcallsfromaroundthecorner,appearingonlyonceIlooktowardtheincomingvoice.
“Yep!”IpushtostandandnoticemylegssuddenlyfeelalotweakerthanwhenIwalkedupthestairs.Honestly,I’mgratefultoMelissa,Ted,andBoforthewelcomeddistractionupuntilthispoint.Iwasbeyondnervousatworkalldayandbarelysleptlastnight
It’snotthatIthinksomethingterriblehashappenedtothebaby.It’sbeenprettysmoothsailingsymptoms-wise,thoughI’mstillnauseouseveryday.DoctorSalimpromisesthathavingtokeepasickbaginmypurseandcrackersnexttothebedisagoodsignthebabyisgrowingstrong.
Thefear,Ithink,iscomingfromhowrealthisallsuddenlyseems.Asifeverystepclosertothepatient’stableattheendofthishallwayisarecommitmenttochoosingthispathforward.AreminderthatI’vemadethisverybigdecisionwithverylittlelogicandawholelotofinstinct.Keepingthebabyfelthypotheticaltosomedegree.Oncewe’reinthatroom,I’mkeepingmybaby.Ourbaby.
Bo’swalkingfasterthanmylegswillletmego,aheadofme,nexttothetechnician.Heturnsoverhisshoulderandgivesmeasweet,encouragingwinkandsmilebeforeturningbackaround.
Ican’thelpbutwonderifhefeelsthistoo.Theseriousnessofthismoment.Theimmensepressure.Theloomingfeeling,asifgravityhasbeensuckedoutofthisbuildingandwe’refloatingdownthishallway.Barrelling,really,towardthisnewreality.
Probablynot.
ThoughwhenIfindmyselflyingonthetableinthemiddleoftheroom,hikingmyshirtuptoexposemystillunchangedbelly,Ilooktohimforcomfortonmyleft.AndBoprovidesit,reachingoutahandformetohold
“It’sokay,”hetellsme.Hisvoiceremindsmeofthewayparentscomforttheirchildrenbeforetheplanetakesoff.Atoneofpeoplehavedonethisbefore;there’snoreasontoworry,butatinyhintofconcernoftheirownlyingunderneath,asiftosay,thenagain,planecrashesdohappen
“Promise,”hesays,hisbrowsfurrowingashenods—hisexpressionmoreconcentratedandsteady.ImustlookasscaredasIfeelforhimtohavetothrowawordlikepromisearound.
Thetechistalking,alot,tomyright.AndI’monlypickingupabouthalfofit.IkeepmyeyesonBo.Watchinghimlistentoherintentlyandnodalongkeepsmefromspirallingevenfurther.He’spresent,atleast.He’llleavewithwhateverinformationwemightneed.
Thetech’shandonmyrightshouldermakesmeturntowardherandthemachineshe’sstandinginfrontof.“I’mgoingtoapplythegelnow—it’llbecold.We’llmakesuretowipeitalloffoncefinished.”Sheshowsmeabottleofgel,andInod,smilingweakly.
ItightenmyholdonBo’shand.Hesqueezesbackrhythmically,asifhe’sattemptingtomatchmyheartbeat.IfindmyselfbrieflywishingIhadbroughtSarahalongtoo.Thatway,Iwouldn’tbeclingingtothisguyfordearlife.
Coldgellandsonmystomach,andIfeelpressureasthetechlowerstheprobeandpressesdownmoreforcefullythanIwasexpecting.She’sreallydiggingarounddownthere.Afterafewachinglylongseconds,Istarttoworrythatmaybeshecan’tfindthebaby.Thatmaybethereisnomorebaby.
Dreadcreepsupmyspinelikeicewaterasamillionandoneworst-casescenariostakemybrainhostage.Ifeelachillintheroomthatwasn’ttherebefore,acoolbreezewashingovermyskin,raisingeachhair,goosebumpsformingacrossmyskin.Everynerveendingsendsasignalthatitisabsolutelytimetopanic.ButthenBo’sgasppullsmebackfromtheledge.
Ilookathimashe,wide-eyedandslack-jawed,staresatthescreenbehindmethatI’mtooafraidtoface.Heexhalesshakily,joyovertakinghisfeatures.Heleansforward,whisperingsomethingIdon’tquitemakeoutthatI’mnotevensureheintendedtosay.Thenhestillswhentheprobemovesagain,anglingagainstmystomach.
IwatchasBo’ssmallwondermentburstsintoafull-fledged,beamingsmilethatheattemptstosubduebybitinghislipandshakinghishead.
“Winnifred?”thetechsaysfrombehindme.“Didyouwanttoseeaswell?”
Iturnslowly,bracingforimpactwithsquintedeyesandpuckeredlips.
Butthere,ontheblackandwhitescreen,isasmall,perfect,bean-likething
Mybaby.
Notthebaby.Butmybaby.
Andit’snotnearlyasterrifyingasIthoughtitwouldbe—knowingit’smineIt’sactuallyreallyfuckingunreal.Anhonour.Anamazing,incredible,spectacular,sublimething
Iwatchasthebabymovesintiny,flutteringrotations.Reliefwarmsmyskinandsenseslikestandingunderasunbeamonanotherwisecloudyday,myheartswellingwithjoytothepointwhereIfeelitmightgiveout.
Thetechsmilessoftlyasshepressestheprobeagainstmefurther,tryingtogetabetterviewonthescreen.“They’recertainlyactive,”shesays.“You’regoingtohaveyourhandsfullwiththisone.”
“Hmm,”Imurmurmyagreement.Handsarekindatheissuehere,lady.
Thebabymovesonthescreenagain.Alittletwitch-likejumpthatremindsmeofaflea.AndIforgettheworld.
Doitagain,Ishoutinternally,imaginingmyveinsandthebloodpumpingthroughthemasradiotransmitters,hopingfoolishlythatthebabycanhearmesomehow.
Bolaughs,deepandlow,asthekiddoesanotherflipawayfromtheprobe’sview.“Seemsliketheywantsomeprivacy,”hesays.
“Ohmygosh,MomandDad-uh.Leavemealone,”Isaylikeamoodyteenager.
“Youguysaresoannoying,”Boaddsinhisownsimilarwhine.
We’realreadysoobnoxious.Iloveit.ProbablymorethanIshould.
Thetechtypesasshecontinuesclickingaroundtheimage,makingnotesandtakingmeasurements.Herconcentratedfacecouldbejustthat:concentration.Butitcouldequallybeconcern.Maybethere’ssomethingnotquiterightonlysomeonewithatrainedeyecouldnotice.
“They’reokay?”ThetwowordsfalloutbeforeIthinktoaskthem.
“Allseemswelltome,”sheanswers,turningtofacemeinsteadofthescreen.“Doyouwanttoheartheheartbeat?”
“Yes,please,”BoandIanswerinunison.
Withafewbuttonspressedandknobstwisted,aquietsoundbegins.Turnedlouder,thebaby’sheartbeatfillstheroom,reverberatingagainstthewallsinaperfectrhythm.Themostlife-altering,exquisitesound.
It’sallIcanhear.Abovemypantedbreaths.AboveBo’sseeminglysubconscioushappymurmursofamazement.Aboveeverything.Thecityoutside,thevoiceofanxietyinmyhead,thesubtlecreakingofmyribstighteningundertheweightofallthischange.
Ba-dum,ba-dum,ba-dum.Likeasteadytrain.
Ba-dum,ba-dum,ba-dum.Notamistake.
Ba-dum,ba-dum,ba-dum.Ahappyaccident.
“Wow,”Ibreatheout,tearsblottingalongmylowerlashes.
“Heartrateisone-sixty-seven,”thetechsays,typing.
“Isthatgood?”Boaskssoftly,asiftonotdisturbthemoment.
“Yes,that’srightwherewewantit.”
Hehuffsasighofrelief.Thenhiswarmlipsarepressedonthebackofmyhand.Iturnawayfromthescreentowardhim,hitwitharushofsurpriseatthatformofcontact.Whichmaybeabsurd,consideringallwe’vedone.
“Thankyouforlettingmebehere,”hesays.Ormaybehemouthsit,I’mnotsure.AllIcanhearisthatsteadybeatingheart.
“Canyourecordthis?”Iaskhoarsely,emotiontighteningmythroat.
Boletsgoofmyhandtopullouthisphone,then,afteramoment,holdsitupslightly,thevoicerecorderonhisphoneblinkingred.
Afewmomentslater,thenurseturnsthevolumedownslowlyandshutsoffhermachines.“We’llprintoffsomephotosforyou.Youcanexpecttohearfromyourdoctorwithinthenextfewdays—”Thetechstopsherself.“Well,actually,giventhatit’sonlytwodaysbeforeChristmas,youmostlikelywon’t.But,”sheleansclosetowhisper,“Icantellyouthere’sabsolutelynothingtoworryabout.Justbetweenus.”Shewinks.
“Thankyou,”Isay.
“I’llgiveyoutwoaminute,”shesays,handingmeawarmtowel.“Forthegunk.”Shepointstomystomachasshewalksaroundthebedandleaves.
“Thatwasamazing,”BosaysasIwipeoffmystomach.“They’realotlesshuman-lookingthanIwasexpecting,though.”
“Likealittlejellybean,”Isay,smilingfondly.
“Anditwasmovingalot,”hesaysindisbelief.“Like,it’sfreetojustmoveaboutinthere.It’swild.”
“Theyseemtobemakingthemselfathome,yes.”Isitup,loweringmyshirt.“Wow…”Isayagain,becausewow.
“Yeah…”Bosaysonalongbreath,acrookedsmileinfull,boldagreement
“Ababy,”Isay,flashingmyeyesathim.
“Ababy,”herepeats,shakinghishead.
“Insane.”
Bosighs,draggingahanddownhisface.“Prettyfuckingcool,”hesays,thenlooksupatme.Weshareasmall,giddysmilebeforeIhopoffthetableandwemakeourwayouttowardthereceptionist’sdesk.
Afterthetechhandsusanenvelopewithtwoidenticalultrasoundphotos,wewalkdownstairstothelobbyincompanionablesilence.Arrivingatthemainfloor,Inoticethesnowiscomingdownharder,illuminatedonlybythestreetlampsoutside.
“Yikes,”Isay,lookingouttowardtheno-doubtblisteringcold,windingmyscarfaroundmyneck.
“CanIgiveyouaride?”Boasks,buttoninguphiscoat.Butthenhestopsandwatchesmeintentlyforamoment.“Actually,I’mgoingtoinsist.I’mgivingyouaride.”
Irollmyeyeswithaffection.“Yes,thatwouldbenice.Thankyou.”ThenIrememberSarah’ssuggestion.“Actually…doyouhaveplanstonight?”
Hefinishesdoinguphiscoat,shovingbothhandsintohispockets.“No.”Heraisesabrow,liftingthecornerofhismouthalongsideit.“Whatwereyouthinking?”
“WanttocometoCalebandSarah’swithme?We’redoingagamenight.”
Henodsenthusiastically.“Yeah,sure.I’dlovethat.Mycarisaroundthecorner.”Boopensthefrontdoor,andwestepoutintothestorm.Heleadsmebyafloatinghandabovemywaisttowardhiscarasthewindwhistlesaroundus.Thepassengerdoorisopenedformeandclosedbehindme.ThenI’mregainingmysensesandattemptingtowarmmyhandswithmybreathasheopenshisdoorbrieflybeforethrowinghimselfinside.
Hiscarisreallynice.Idon’tknowalotaboutcars,butwithamonitorscreenthesizeofatabletinthecentreconsoleandleather-wrappedseatswithbuttonsforseatwarmers,Iimagineitcostaprettypenny.
“Greatride,”Isaylikeatotaldunce.
Hisliptwitchesashepushesabuttonandthecareruptswithbeepsandlightsandasubtlevroomoftheengine.“Thanks.”
“YourememberhowtogettoSarah’s?”
“Thinkso.Prettysureeverythingaboutthathouseiscarvedintomymemory.”Hepullsoffthesidestreet,windshieldwipersworkingovertime.
Atfirst,Ithinkhemeansitbecauseofhownicetheirhomeis,orsomethingalludingtoSarahandCaleb’sobviouswealth.ButthenIrealisethewayinwhichhesaidit.Asifthehomewasinfamous.Referring,subtly,tothelasttimewewerebothatSarahandCaleb’s.Ifeelmycheekswarmwithablushandthankthemoonfornotshiningtoobrightly.
“I’mgladyouaskedmetocome.Honestly,Ihaven’tbeensureabouthowtodothis,butIthinkspendingsomenon-appointmenttimetogetherwouldbegood.Togettoknoweachother.We’resortof…”Hisvoicetrailsoffashelooksoverhisshoulder,changinglanes.
“Stucktogether?”Ioffer.
“Iwasgoingtosaysomethinglikeworkingtowardamutualgoal,butthatsoundedtoounattached.”
“Icalleduscolleaguestheotherday,andSarahwasaghast.”
“Aghast,huh?”heteases.
“Flabbergasted,ifyouwill.”
“Butthereisnopropertermforthis,”hesaysinawayofagreement.
“Co-parents,Iguess.”
“Butparentsfeelslikeatitlereservedforwhenakidisphysicallypresent,”Bosays.“Nooffence.”Hespeakstomybelly.
“Let’saimforfriends?”Isuggest
“Friendsthatarehavingababytogether.”
“Yes.Friendswithfoetuses.”
“Atotallynewtypeofbenefit.”Helaughs.“Butyes.Friendsisgood.”
“Great,”Iconcur.
“I’mgoingtofriendtheshitoutofyou,FreddieMcNulty.”
“Soaggressive,”Isay,giggling.
“Atraitofmineyoushouldprobablyknow.I’mwildlycompetitive.Eveninamutuallybeneficialtask.Sopreparetobefriended.Hard.”
“You’vealreadymadeitweird.”Isitstraighter,crossingmyarms.“Andyoushouldknow,I’malsoverycompetitive.Which,I’msadtosay,iswhyyou’llneverwin.I’mgoingtobeyourbestfriendsofastthatyourheadwillspin.Asforyou?You’llbeamereacquaintancetome.”
“You’reon,”Bofiresback.
“Anddon’tcallmeFreddie,”Isay,crossingmyarms.
“Surething,Frederick.”CHAPTER11
“Whatintheever-lovingfuckisgoingon?”Sarahasks,whisper-yelling,asshereachesformoretortillachipsfromherpantry.
SarahandIhaveteamedupforeveryroundofCatansinceBoandIarrivedthreehoursago,andyetwe’restillnotcomingclosetoeitherofuswinning.Boisabsurdlygoodatboardgames,andCalebiscertainlynothelpingbygivingtheguyeverytradeheasksfor.
“IfIknew,wewouldn’tbegettingourasseskickedbytheJollyGreenGiantoutthere.IblameCaleb,”Ianswer,pullingsalsaoutofthefridge.
“Bo’ssoeerilycalmwhiletrading.It’slikeheknowswhatyou’regoingtodo.It’s…strangelyhot?”Sarahsays,takingthejarfromme,herfacetwistedintoconcern.
“Ohthankgoodness.Ithoughtitwasjustme,”Iwhisper.“Like,hekeepsdoingthissmuglittlechin-scratchthingwhenhebuildsanewsettlementand—”Icutmyselfoff.“Ohmygod,whatamIsaying?Whatishedoingtous?”
“Babe?”Calebsaysfromthearchwayasheentersthekitchen.“Hey,d’yaneedsomehelp?”
“Yes,weneedhelp,”Sarahseethes.“Helpunderstandingwhyyou’dgivethatmansixoreforonefuckingsheep.”
“Honestly?”Calebasks.“Idon’tknow.It’slikehejustcharmedthemoutofmyhand.”
“Weneedtogetittogetherandformaunitedfront.Heisdestroyingus.”Sarahsighs,reachinginfrontofmeforachipbowlfromthecabinet.“Maybeweshouldjuststopplayingboardgamesandgointofullinterrogationmode.Whoisthisguy?Whatwentdownwiththeshe-devil?Whydidhecallofftheengagement?WhatarehisintentionswithWinnie?Caleb,you’llbethegoodcop.Obviously.”
I’mabouttoprotestwhenfootfallssoundfromthehallway.
“Everyoneinhere?”Boquestions,enteringthekitcheninleisurelystridewithahandinhisjeanspocket.Heglancesaround,takinginourfaceswithaperplexedsmile.“Didsomethinghappen?”
“Nope!Totallyfine,”Sarahrepliesinapitchseveraloctavesabovenormal.
“They’realittlemadyou’rewinningateverything,”Calebsays.Thelittlerat.
“Ididtrytowarnyou,”Bosays,pointingtome,grinningfartoowide.“I’mcompetitive.”Heshrugsoneshoulder.
“Thisisn’tnormalcompetitive,”Iargue,pointingbackathim.
Bomovesclosertome,hiseyesheldonmyextendedfingerashekeepswalking,onlystoppingwhenthetipofmyfingerpressesintothehardnessofhisribs.Iignoretheoverturningsensationinmystomachashearrogantlysmilesdownatwherewetouch.
“You’renotflippingtheMonopolyboardbecauseyoulostorfakingdicerolls.ThisissomesortofsexyJedi-mind-trickshit.”Ijabhimintheribshardbeforeturningtowardthekitchen’sbarstoolsanddroppingontoonewiththetiniestoftantrums.
“Me?Sexy?”Boclutcheshischest,amusementlightinguphisfeatures.
“Youpulledthatwordoutofcontext.”
“Wedon’tknowhowyou’redoingit,butwhenwefigureitout,you’redone,”Sarahsays,steppingtomysideandthrowingherarmaroundmyshoulders.
“Maybewejustplayanewgame?Cards?”Calebsuggests,hismouthfullofchipsandsalsa.
Three,two,one…
“Strippoker?”Sarahsays,crossingthekitchentowardherhusband,smilingeartoear.
“Sarah,”Calebsighsoutquietly,lettinghisheadhang.“No,”hesays,dejected.No,hemouthsagainwhenshepoutsathim,twistingherbodyfromsidetoside,quietlypleading.
“I’malwaysupforalittlestrippoker,”Bosays,smirkingatmyfriend.
“Ohgod,”Calebsaystonooneinparticular,hisexpressionfilledwithhorror.“There’stwoofthemnow.”
“Nooneisgettingnaked,”Isay,atfirsttoCaleb,thentothetwotroublemakers.“ThelasttimeIwasnakedinthishome,Ileftwithaveryexpensive,lifelongpartyfavour.So,nothanks.”
Bo’slaughescapesthroughtightlyclosedlips.“Fairenough.”Hereachesacrossthecounterforachip,tossesitintotheair,andcatchesitinhismouth.
“Ooh!Speakingofthatpartyfavour…”Sarahwalkstotheothersideofthekitchenandintoherbutler’spantry,disappearingoutofview.“Igotyoutwoapresent,”shesays,returningwithabasketthatcovershalfhertorso.It’swrappedinclearcellophanewithabigredribbononthetop.
“Sarah,”Iwhineassheplacesthepresentontheoppositeendoftheisland.“Christmasisintwodays.Youreallyshouldn’thave.”
SarahturnsherattentiontoBo,straighteningherbackwithfalsewoundedpride.“Winhatespresents.Becausewehavemoney,andshedoesn’t,andthatmakesheruncomfortable.EventhoughIhavetoldhermanytimesthatit’smywayofshowinglove,shecontinuallytriestodenyme.Howdoyoufeelaboutpresents,Bo?Andpleaseanswercarefully—thiswilldeterminewhetherIlikeyouornot.”
“Ilovethem,”Bosaysabruptly,takingafewstridesovertothecounter,eyeingthegiftcautiously.“Thankyou.”
Sarahmakesaproudhmphsoundinthebackofherthroat.
“Judas,”Iwhisper,glaringatBo.
“Areyoureallynotgoingtoopenthispresentwithme?”heasks,toyingwiththeribbon—mimickingpullingitoff.Asudden,strikingimageofhimtoyingwithmypantiesthrashesaroundmybrain,thenleavesjustasquicklyasitcame.
“Iworkedsohardonit,”Sarahaddsinthesamemockingvoice.
Thesetwoareadangerousandannoyingcombination.
“Fine,”Isay,hoppingoffthebarstoolandmovingtostandnexttoBo.
ItugindelicatelyontheribbonandgestureforBotodotherestonceit’soff.Heunwrapsthecling-wrap,revealingthegreenwovenbasketunderneathfilledtothebrimwithitems,somewrappedandothersnot,andonewhitecard-sizedboxwithwritingonitsittingontop.
TwentyQuestionstoFallinLove,Iread.
IturnmygazetowardSarah,who’sspillingoverwithmischievousglee.
Really?Iaskhersilently,myrighteyetwitchinginherdirection.
“Isawavideoaboutthisgameonline.Thetitleis…evocative,butreally,it’sjusttwentyquestionstogettoknowsomeonewell,quickly.Ithoughtthatmaybehelpful,”shesaysthatwordsharplytowardme,“sinceyoutwohavealotofcatchinguptodointhegetting-to-know-each-other-while-clotheddepartment.”
Ifighttheurgetomockherinachildlikewhineandrepeatherlastfewwordsoutloud.
“That’sverythoughtful,thankyou,”Bosays,asifhe’sschoolingmetodothesame.I’mabouttorollmyeyeswhenhecontinueswith,“wewerejusttalkingabouthavingtogettoknoweachothermoreonthewayhere.Sothisisgreat.”
“Yes,”Igivein,onlyalittle.“Thanks.”
Bopicksupthecardbox,flippingitoverinhishand.
Inod,smilingpolitely,andreachforanothergifttopullout.
“Andtothink,”Calebwhispersdramatically,circlingthecountertostandnexttome.“Ifyoudidonequestioneveryday,youcouldbeinloveinlessthanthreeweeks.”
IsmackhimovertheheadwiththereallynicebathpillowSarahpickedout.
“Thankyou,Sarah,forthegift,”Isaypointedly,glaringathim.
“Ialsomadesuretostockcondomsintheguestbedroominyourhonour.Extra-largeonestoo,”shesays,winkingatBo.
Hesputtersacough,whichIfinddeeplyrewarding.
“I’msorry,”Imumbleintothespacebetweenourshoulders,pullingmylipsintostopagrin.
“Noyou’renot,”herepliesformyearsonly,reachingintothebasketalongsidemeasIpulloutsomethingsoftandwhite.
“Aww,”Calebcoosattheonesieinmyhand.
“That’ssmall,”Bostares,blinkingslowly.
“Babiestendtobe,”Ireply,rubbingthesoftcottonagainstmycheek.
“Bo,howbigwereyouwhenyouwereborn?”Sarahasks,eyeinghistallframe.
“Oh,uh,Idon’tknowactually.”Heshrugs,pullingoutsomechocolatesthathepointsatenthusiastically.“Fuckinglovethese.”
“Askyourmother.I’mworriedaboutmygirl’sparts,”Sarahsays.
Calebgroans,catchingSarah’sattentionfromacrossthecounter.
“What?”Sarahasks,lookingbetweenthemen.
“MymompassedawaywhenIwasreallyyoung,”Bosayswithoutemotion,pullingoutasleeveofcrackers.“Oohthesearemyfavourite.”Heripsthemopenwithvigourandtakesaloudbite,noddingashechews,asifhe’slisteningtohisfavouritesong.
Whohasafavouritecracker?
“Sorry.”Sarahwinces.
“Nobigdeal.”Bosmilesather,swallowing.“Thanksagainforallofthis.Andforlettingmecrashgamenight.”HeturnstoCaleb.“Youtoo,man.”
“You’rewelcome,”CalebsaysasSarahwalksaroundtheislandtowardhim,placingherarmaroundhisback.“Weliketokeepintouchwitheverycouplethatconceivesababyinourhome.”
“Yes,it’satraditionofours,”Sarahadds.
“Ididn’trealisethiswassuchacommonoccurrence.Isthereasupportgroup?Anonlineforum?”Boasks.
“Yes,theymeethereTuesdaysateleven,”Sarahreplies.“Lightrefreshmentsareserved.”
“Wonderful.Countusin,”Bosays,pullingoutthelastitem.“Whoa,”hechuckles,“Idon’tthinkthisisforme.”
Iturnmyattentiontotheboxinhishandandimmediatelyswatitaway.Thesecondtheboxhitsthekitchenfloor,Ikickitinstinctively.Hardenoughthatitsoarsacrosstheroom,throughthekitchen’sentrance,anddownthehallway.Bostays,slightlyred-faced,lookingathisfeetandbitinghislip.
“SarahAbileneLinwood,”Isay,grindingmyjaw.Youpromisednofunnybusiness,Isaytelepathically,flaringmyeyesather.
Sheclaspsbothhandsinfrontofhermouth,butitdoesnothingtoquellherlaughter.“Okay,inmydefence,Istartedthisasapresentjustforyou,andImayhaveforgottenthatwasinthere.”
Calebeyesmeimpishlyasheslinksoffhisstoolandcreepstowardthehallway.Iglareathimashetiptoesbackward,lookinglikeacartoonvillain.
Idon’thavetheenergytoattempttogettotheboxfirst,soIignorethegigglesbeingsharedbetweenmypreviousbestfriendandthetraitorousfather-to-beandbeginsortingourgiftintotwoneatpiles.ItemsforBoontheright,itemsformeontheleft.
“TheClit-Stim9000…”Calebstrollsbackintothekitchen,slappingtheboxagainsthispalm.“Dowehavethisone?”heaskshiswife,who’satleastlookingatouchguiltyunderherthin-lippedsmile.
“Theyhadtomakenineversions?”Boasks.
“Itmusthavebeenmadebyaman,”Isay,droppingabooktitledFirst-TimeDadontohispilewithanot-so-subtlethud,“ifittookthemninetriestofigureouthowtoproperlypleaseawoman.”
Bo’stonguepushesagainstthesideofhischeekashenods,anarrogantgleaminhiseyereturning.“Notallmenneedninechances,ifIremembercorrectly.”HemovesthechocolatesthatIhadallocatedtohispilebacktomine,leaningcloser.“Someofusonlyneededone,”hewhispers.
Hethenabsolutelydestroysthetensionhebeganpullinglikeacorsetaroundmythroatbybitingdownonhiscrackerinapurposefullyaggressivemanner,spinningonhisheeltowardCaleb,andthrowingahandup.
“Tossit,”Bocommands.
Calebthrowsthebox,andBocatchesit,palmingitinonehand.“Here,”hesays,placingitnexttomypile.
“Myhero,”Isaydryly.
“Youcankeepallofit,”Bosays,lookingatourpiles.“Well,maybeI’llkeepthebookandthe”—heholdsuptheblackT-shirtwithwhitewritingonit,wearingalopsidedsmirk—“CallmeDaddyshirt.”Hewaggleshiseyebrowssuggestively.
“Sarahisapervert,”Isay.
“Iheardthat!”SheswipesacrackerfromBo’sopentrayasshewalksby.
IglareatherassheandCalebbeginuncorkingabottleofwinetogether.“Keepyourhalf,”IsaytoBo.“Idistributeditfairly.”
“Butthis,”hepointsbetweenus,“isn’tparticularlyfaireither.FromwhereI’mstanding,you’redoingallthework.I’mlikethekidwhoaskstoseethegroupprojectthedaybeforethepresentation.”
Iadmirehispilethoughtfully.“Okay,fine.Iwantthis,andyoutakethis.”Itakesomegingercandies—which,inhindsight,wereprobablymeantformynauseaanyway—andhandhimthepackoftwentyquestions.“Youcanbeinchargeofaskingthose.Alittlepieceofresponsibility.”
“Great.”Hesmiles.
Iwalkovertothesinkandfetchanemptycuptofill,feelingalittleflushed.
“Youokay?”Sarahasks.
“Yeah,justgettingthatmy-stomach-is-turning-upside-downfeeling.”Iturnoffthetapandbringtheglasstomylips.
“Whatfeeling?”Bostepsnearer,hiseyesnarrowedonmeinconcern.
“Nausea,”Isay,tryingtosipslowly.“Itcancomeoutofnowheresometimes.”Clammyskin,rushingblood,quickeningheartbeat.Everythingbeginssmellingweirdallofasudden,andmytonguefeelstoobigformymouth.Alltheusualsignsthatpointtowardneedingtogettoabathroomquickly.“I’llberightback.Areyouokay?”IaskBo.
Bolookstakenabackatmyquestion,hisheadjarringbackward.“Yes,ofcourse.I’mfine.Go,I’ll—”
Idon’tlethimfinishbeforeI’mrunningtothemainfloor’spowderroom,fightingthevomitforcingitswayupmythroatfromescapingtoosoon.CHAPTER12
Asoftknockisdrownedoutbythesoundofthetoiletflushing.
“Youokayinthere,champ?”Sarahasksfromtheothersideofthedoor.
Igroan,lettingmyforeheadhitthecooltiledwallnexttothetoiletseat
“Doyouneedanything?Water?”sheasks.
“Yeah,”Isay,reachingforthetoiletpapertowipemymouth,mythroatdry.“Water,please.”
“Okay,Bo’scomingin.”
What?No!Hecan’tseemelike—
“Hey,”Bosays,hisvoicefullofsympathyasheopens,thenimmediatelyshuts,thedoor.
IwhineinternallyasIimaginewhatImustlooklike,tuckedinanuprightfoetalpositionagainstthewall.Sarah’saversiontoanythingbloodyorgrossisturningouttobeextremelyinconvenient.ShecouldhaveatleastsentCalebininstead.
“Ihavewaterandsomeofthosegingercandies.Sarahsaidtheymighthelp.”Hehandsmetheglassofwater,thentwistsopenthepapercandywrapper.“Doyouwantone?”
Inod,avoidingeyecontact,andpresentmypalmtoBo.Hedropsthegoldencandyintoit,thentossesthewrapperintothegarbagenexttothetoilet.
“Sothisisaneverydaything,huh?”heasks,openingadrawerunderthesink.
“Afewtimesadaylately.”
“Shit,Win.I’msorry,”hesays.IlooktowardhimwhenIhearthesinkturnon.He’sholdingawashclothunderthewater,lettingitsoak.Secondslater,heturnsoffthetapandwringsitouttwicebeforefoldingitintoaneatrectangle.
Withafirmgriponthecornerofthebathroom’svanity,Bosupportshisweightashelowerstooneknee.“Here,”hesays,delicatelypushingmyhairasideandplacingthecoolclothonthebackofmyneck.
Ihavetoadmit,itfeelsamazingThoughBo’sfar-too-bigbodyisfartoonearinSarah’sfar-too-smallhalfbath.Ican’ttellifthenauseaisresidualorasignofmoretocome,orifit’soverwhelmduetoBo’sloomingproximity.
“Canyouopenthedoor?”Iask,lettingmyselflookintohiseyesasItakethewashclothfromhimandbringittomycheek.They’resuchniceeyes.Gentle.“IthinkIneedsome…space.”
“Yeah,ofcourse.”Hetwiststostandwithagroan.“Letmeknowwhenyou’rereadytogo.Sarahgatheredupallyourthings,andI’llbejustoutthereifyouneedanythingelse,okay?”
“Yeah,thanks,”Isayashebowshisheadandshutsthedoor.
Ipressthecoolclothtomyforehead,lettingitalsofallagainstmyclosedeyelidsandthebridgeofmynose.Anotherfunsymptom.WheneverIthrowup,myheadstartsaching.Eventually,apressureheadacheformsbehindmyeyes,makingmyvisionblurryandeverysoundalltoointense.
MynextappointmentwithDoctorSalimisinfiveweeks.I’vesetthatasabenchmarkforhowlongI’lltoleratefeelinglikeawalkingvomitfactory.Ifitgoesbeyondthat,Imaysimplylettheillnesstakeme.I’llgototheseasidelikeallthesickorslightlyinsanewomenusedto,andI’llwillmyselftoeitherbedonewithitorenjoyanearlygrave.
Or,perhaps,I’llaskDoctorSalimtoprescribethatmedicineshesuggested
Oneofthosetwothings.
Whenmystomachfinallyrestsandmyglassofwaterisempty,Islowlystand,washmyhands,andrinseoutmymouth.Leavingthebathroom,IofferpolitemurmuredgoodbyestoSarahandCalebasBocarriesallmythingsouttohiscar.
Thecrispwinterairhelpsslightly,andIdon’tevenattempttoputmycoatonbeforegettingintothepassengerseat,enjoyingthecoolaironmyclammy,hotskin.
“Areyouwarmenough?”Boasks,shuttinghisdoorbehindhim,aclusterofsnowfallingandmeltinginstantlyinsidehiscar.
“Balancingout,”Ianswer,restingmycheekontheheadrest.
“Okay.Messwiththedialshoweveryou’dlike,”hesays,openingtheGPSonhisscreen.Igivehimmyaddress,andthenwe’reoff.
Atsomepointinthetwenty-ish-minutedrivebetweenmyhouseandSarah’s,Ifallasleep.
I’mwokenupbythesoundofgravelundertiresinthebackparkinglotofmybuilding.Iliftmyforeheadawayfromthewindowandattempttosubtlywipethedrooloffmychin.Bopullsintoavisitor’sspotasIblinkawakelikeastartledcreature.
Thetinynapandcoolairdidhelp,though.Ifeelalotbetter.
“Sorry,uh,Ifellasleep.”
“Yeah,Ifiguredthatouthalfwaythroughmydrawn-outtaleofmyownpublicpukingincidentinmiddleschool.”Hesmilesatme,hishandonthegearshiftbetweenus.“Probablyforthebest,”hesays,puttingthecarinpark.
“Ah,well,nexttime.”Iunbuckleandlookatthebackseatwithallmyitems.“Thanksfortheride,”Isay,beginningthementalcalculationofhowI’llbalancethegiftbasket,mypurse,andtheplantSarahbeggedmetotakeandrevive.I’maproatthispoint—you’dbeamazedwhatyoucandowithone-and-a-halfhandsandabull-likestubbornness.
“I’llwalkyouin,”Bosays,alreadyturningoffthecar.Idon’tbothertoargue,thoughIprobablyshould.Ihaven’tcleanedmyapartmentotherthansomedishesandlaundryinafewweeksbetweentheexhaustionandthenot-so-morningmorningsickness.Workprettymuchtakesupallmyenergy,andbythetimeI’mhome,Ijustfallasleep.Icanbarelymusterupthedesiretobathe.
Wemakeourwaythroughthefreezingnightairtowardthebackentrance—agreymetaldoorwithcrackedglassononesidethathasn’tbeenrepairedsinceImovedin.Istartshrinkinginternally,thinkingaboutthestateofmybuilding’shallwaysandlobby.Thesmoke-filledscent,thepeelingflooring,theflickeringlights,the…shit.
Thebrokenelevator.
“Thankyou.”Iattempttotakemybasketfromhimbutfailwhenhavingtobalanceitwithmypurse,phone,andkeysinonehand.Okay,justre-shuffle.Iputmyphoneintomypurseandusethekeyringtohookmykeysaroundmysmallhand’sthumb.There,nowIhaveafreehandforthebasket.Easyenough.“Okay,I’llbeonmyway.”Itakethebasketandcurlitagainstmylefthip.“Haveagoodnight!”Isay,alittletoopeppy.
Bo’stonguedartsoutashenarrowshiseyeseversoslightlyonme,thenthelobbyaroundus.“There’snoelevatorhere,huh?”
Iwince.“Technically?Thereis.Butithasn’tworkedinfouryears.So,no,sorry.”
“Whichfloor?”Boasks,lookingtowardthestairs.
“Sixth,”Ianswermeekly.
Asmallinhaleflareshisnostrils.“That’sgoingtobequitethechallenge.”Helaughswithouthumour,scratchinghiseyebrowbeforeplacingthatsamehandonhiship.
IlookoveratthemetalbenchneartheabandonedelevatorandtiltmyheadforBotofollowbehind.Sitting,Ilowerthebasketandplanttothefloorandcrossonefootinfrontoftheother,shiftingnervouslyinmyseat.
“I’vebeensotiredsinceIfoundoutaboutthebaby,butI’vebeenmeaningtolookforanewplace,”Isay,lookingatthefloor.“Thisbuildingkindofsucks,honestly.It’snotlikeI’dwanttodosixflightsofstairssuperpregnanteither.ImightendupgivingbirthonthemifIdo.”
Bolaughsquietly,moreofabreaththananything.
“And,obviously,yourabilitytogetinsideofwhereverIliveisanecessitynowtoo,”Isay,gentlysittinguptolookathim.
Heslowlytiltshisheaduptowardme.Hiseyesarehesitantbutappreciative,Ithink.
“Iknowwehaven’tfiguredoutalotofourplan,oranythingelsereally…butyoushouldbeabletocomevisitwheneveryouwantand—”
“Notjustvisit,Win.Iwant…”Heshakeshishead,takinginalongbreath.“I’mnotsurehowtosaythiswithoutitsoundingdemanding,butI’dliketohavethebabyatmyplacetoo.Overnightsorweekends.I’dliketobeasinvolvedintheirdailylifeasyouare.”
Well,thenauseaisback.
Apowerfulmaternalpossessivenessfallsoverme.IknowthatI’llneedhelpwiththebaby,butnopartofmehasconsideredBotobeanythingbuthelpuntilnow.This,whathe’saskingfor,issomuchmorethanthat.Ibreathethroughtheinfluxofemotionsrisingup,waitingtocalmdownbeforeIformulatearesponse.Logically,Iknowthatwhathe’saskingisfair.Thatthisbabyisasmuchhisasitismine.But,perhapsatouchselfishly,Ihaven’timaginedanyscenariowhereI’mnotthemainparentandBoistheadditional.Thesecond,supportingparentnotallofusgottohave.
“Idon’tknowwhenthatwouldbepossible,”Istutter.“I’mhopingtobreastfeed.Forthefirstfewmonths,thebabycouldn’tbeawayfrommeformorethanafewhours.”
“Maybe,er,well,couldwedoboth?Bottlesandbreastfeed?”heasks,shyly.“IsupposeIcanonlydooneofthosethings.”Hechucklesanxiously.
“I’veheardthatitcanbeconfusingforbabiestoswitch,anditcanmesswiththemom’smilksupplyand…”Itakeadeep,sharpinhale.“Okay,let’sputapauseonthis.Wedon’thavetofigureitalloutrightnow.IwasjustgoingtosaythatI’llfocusongettinganewplace.SomethingaccessibleandnicerifIcancovertherent.Thisapartmentwastheonlyaffordableoneleftinthecityfouryearsago,soIdoubtI’llfindsomethingmuchbetter,butI’lltry.We’llaimforaccessibleandseewhereweland.”
“Howmuchdoyoumakeatthecafé?If—ifyoudon’tmindmeasking.”
“Alittleovertwentygrandayear,aftertaxes.Then,usually,aboutsixthousandinthesummerfromlifeguarding.”
Borestsbothofhiselbowsonhisknees,thencurlshisarmstosupporteithersideofhisneck,appearingdeepinthought.Hiseyebrowsarepressedtogether,creatingadeepcreaseinthecentreofhisforehead,andhisjawistight,hisbackteethshiftingagainstthemselves.
“Wewilltalkaboutallofthis,Bo.Ipromise.It’llbefair.Tobothofus.Idon’twanttoexclude—”
“Moveinwithme,”hesays,interrupting,hiseyesholdingonmewithahesitantyetsomehowcertainstare.“Ihaveaspareroomandanofficethatwecouldturnintoanursery.Myhouseissmall,butit’snice.Ifyoumovein,youcansavemoneyforanewplacewhilepregnant,andwecangetthroughthenewbornstagetogether.I’dhateforyoutobeonyourownforeverylong,sleeplessnight.Idon’twanttomesswithyourroutineorthebaby’sfeedingscheduleso…yeah.Whatdoyouthink?”
“Ithinkyou’reastranger,”Isay,takenaback,thewordsfallingoutofme.
“Notforlong,right?Whatbetterwayistheretogettoknowsomeone?”Heclearshisthroat.“And,Imean,strangersmoveintogetherallthetimeandcallthemselvesroommates.”
“Whatifwehateit?WhatifI’manightmaretolivewith?Oryouare?”
“Then…youcanmoveinwithSarahandCaleb,maybe.Or,hell,youcanhavemyhouseandI’llfindahotelorsomething.”
“Idon’tknow.Itseemslikewe’realreadywayinoverourheads,andthenwe’dberoommatestoo?”
“Thinkaboutitforaslongasyouneedto,butIthinkitmakessense.”Boswallows,hiseyesdartingdowntomystomachandholdingforalingering,heavypause.“Ican’tdomuchelserightnow,”hesayslowly.“Ican’thelpinanyotherway,butIcangiveyouaplacetolivethatwillworkforallthreeofus.Ifyoumovedinnextmonth,wecouldagreetoayear.Sixmonthsofpregnancy,sixmonthsofbaby.Thenwecanreassess.Youcouldsavealotofmoneyduringthattime.Itmightevenbeenoughtoputadownpaymentonsomething.Ormaybeyou’llwanttostayabitlonger,orleaveearlier…Idon’tknow.WhatIdoknowisthatIwanttohelphoweverIcan,andthisseemslikeawayformetodothat.”
IthinkaboutthelasttimeImovedinwithaguy.Jacksaidalltherightthingstoo.HowwewerestartingtherestofourlivestogetherThatwewouldsavesomuchmoneybysplittingeverything.Whatdowehavetolose?heaskedme,darkeyeswidewithexcitementhenevernormallyshowed,hisblackhairstickinguponallends.SometimesitwaslikeJackwassofilledwithlifeitwasfiringoutofhimlikeboltsofelectricity.Hecouldchargemeupjustaseasilyashe’dburnmeout.Itwasuptohimeachdaywhichoptionitwasgoingtobe.
WehadonlylivedtogetherforafewweekswhenJackshoutedatmeforthefirsttime.We’dgottenintoargumentsbefore,butnothinglikethat.Iburnedourdinner,andthreehourslater,hewasstillberatingmeforwastinghisfoodandsmokinguphishouse.Itwaslikethatfromthenon.EventhoughIwascoveringmostofthebills,itwashisplace,hisfood,furniture,routine.Iwasinfringing.Atrespasserinmyownspace.
“I’dwanttopayrent.Atleastalittlebit,”Isay,myeyesshiftingfromsidetosideasIthink.“AndI’dalsoliketohavesomethinginwriting.Somethinglegallybindingthatsayswearecommittingtoatleastayear,andthatifsomethinghappenswhereoneofushastoleavebeforethen,wewillhelpwiththatperson’scostsofmovingorfindingsomethingnew.”Imeanme.There’snowaythisguywouldmoveintoahotelbeforekickingmeoutofhishome.
“Sure,whateveryou’dbemostcomfortablewith.”
“AndI’dliketobeabletohavefriendsover.SarahandCaleb.I’dwanttofeellikeitwasmyspacetoo.”
Bo’seyebrowspushtogetheragain,hisheadtilting.“Ofcourse,Win.”Hestaresatmealittletoolong.“Itwouldbejustasmuchyourhomeasmine.YoucouldpainttheentirethingneongreenforallIcare.”Helaughs.“Okay,well,mayberunitpastmefirst.Butyoucould.”
“I’mgoingtosleeponit,”Isay,movingtopickupmygiftbasket.Iofferhimatight-lippedsmileasIstand.“Iappreciatetheoffer,though.Thankyou.”
“We’reinthistogether,Win.”
“Iknow,”Iagreereflexively.Idon’ttrulyknowwhetherIbelieveit.Rightnownothingfeelscertainatall.Notasinglething.
“Letmeknowwhenyougetinsafe.”Hepointstothestairs.
“Betweenhereandthesixthfloor?”Iaskdryly.
“Yes.”Heleansbackfartheronthebench.“BecauseI’llbesittingrighthereuntilyouletmeknow,”hesaysstubbornly.
Irollmyeyes,shufflingthebasketagainstmyhip.“Fine.”ImakemywayacrossthelobbyandontothebottomstepbeforeIturntoask,“Doyouhaveyourownwasheranddryer?”
Hissmileisslowformingbutentirelyoptimistic.“Ido.”
Inod.“Andhowdoyoufeelaboutplants?”
“Lovethem,”hefiresbackwithouthesitation.
“Okay,”Isay,turningbackaroundandbracingmyselffortheclimbahead.
“Okay,”herepeats,theoptimisminhisvoiceechoingaroundthelobby.“Ihaveagoodfeelingaboutthis,Fred!”
“Uh-huh!”IhighlydoubtI’llbecallinghimmyroommateanytimesoon,butitdoesn’thurttothinkitover.CHAPTER13
FifteenWeeksPregnant.Babyisthesizeofanapple.
“Movingday!”SarahshoutsexcitedlythesecondIopenmydoor.Calebstandsbehindher,alongsidetwomenIdon’tknow,bothtallandmuscular,withshouldersthatbarelyfitthroughthedoorway.Theysmileandnodpolitelyastheyentermyhome.
“Whoarethey?”IaskquietlyasSarahpushespastme.Shedropsashallowproduceboxinfrontofmywindowandturnstowardme.She’swearingbikeshortsandacute,oversizedsweaterwiththewordVelariswrittenacrossit.Ithinkthat’sfromafavouritebookofhers,butifIask,we’llnevergetoutofhereontime.
“MichaelandLevi,”shesays,hervoiceuneven.Calebsetsintomotionbehindus,directingthetwomentowardmypurpledresser.TheypickitupeffortlesslyandexitbeforeIcanevenadmiretheir…capabilities
“Didyouhiremovers?”Iaskher,clearlyannoyed.Iexplicitlytoldhernotto.
“No!”Shehastheaudacitytosoundoffended.“They’refriendsofours.”
ThisisexactlywhySarahenjoysplayingstrippokersomuch—she’saterribleliar.HencewhyIhadtopullhernaked,drunkassawayfromsomanypartiesasateenagerwhileCalebwasathomestudying.
Ilevelherwithascowl.“Itoldyounottohiremovers,Sar.IfIcouldaffordit—”
“Letmestopyourightthere,preggo.Youcan’tbemakingtripsupanddownsixflightsofstairsallday.Plus,CalebandIarenotexactlyinfightingshape,sowhatwerewesupposedtodohere?Suffer?I’vespentafewhundredbucksonwaylessnecessaryshit.”
“I’mperfectlycapableofgoingupanddownstairs,”Iargue.
Sherollshereyes,beginningtountangletheleavesofmypothosplant.“Pukedyettoday?”sheasks,herponytailswingingviolentlyassheturnstomewithadowewanttogothere?blankstare.
Iopenmymouthtoarguebutstopmyselfwithadeepbreath.Honestly,Ihavebeenreallydreadingtodayandthemultipletripsupanddownthestairs.Packingupoverthelastfewweekshasbeentiresomeenough.Sohasgoingthroughallmythings,makingdonationruns,andgettingsupplies.Sarahhasbeenheremostdays,andIreallyshouldn’tbesoungrateful.She’salreadydonesomuchtohelpmegetoutofherebeforetheendofthemonth.It’sjust,IwishIcouldhavehiredthemoversmyselfandleftSarahandCaleboutofit.Ihatefeelinglikeaburden.
“Fine,just,don’tletthemtouchmyplants.”
“That’slikehalfoftheshityouown,”Calebsays,wrappinghisarmaroundmyshoulders.“Happymovingday.”Hepatsmyarm.“Can’tsayI’mnothappytoneverhavetoseethisplaceagain.”
“Snobs,”Itease,reachingoutahandforSarah.Shestepscloser,untilthethreeofusarewrappedaroundoneanotherlikethetangledplantsonthewindowsill.“Thankyou,guys,”ImumbleintoSarah’sshoulder.“Iloveyouboth,andIreallydoappreciateyourhelp.I’msorryI’mcrapatacceptingit.”
“Weloveyoutoo,”theyanswerinunison.
“Nowteachushowtocarryyourplantssafelysoyoudon’tendupmurderingournicenewmoverfriends,”Sarahadds.
Therestofthemorninggoessmoothly.MichaelandLevitakemysmallselectionoffurnituredownpiecebypiece—withhelpfromCalebonthemonsterthatwasmypull-outcouch.Shenowlivesonthecurbuntilanewhomeisfound,sinceBo’sspareroomcomesequippedwithaqueen-sizedbed.
Sarah,Caleb,andIdotwotripswithmyplantswhiletherestofmyboxesaretakendown.EverythingIownispackedupinjustovertwohours.CalebpaystheguysandwaitswiththetruckasSarahandImakeourwayupstairsforonefinallook-through.
“Fuckthesestairs,”Sarahsays,openingthetopofherwaterbottleonthelandingtothefourthfloor.“Fuckthesestairssomuch,”shesaysbreathlessly,bendingatthewaist.
“Lasttime,”Isay,standingstraightertopullacandyoutofmyfannypack.It’sstockedwithsaltinecrackers,gingercandies,heartburntablets,andgum—alllittlenauseahacksI’vediscoveredoverthepastsixweeks.Noneofwhicharehelpingrightnow.Otherthantoday,Ihavebeenstartingtofeelbetter.
Eventually,wecollapseontothefloornexttomydoor,onthepeelingbeige-brownlinoleumusedforthefewsquarefeetoftheentranceandkitchenette.ItakesmallsipsfromSarah’swaterbottleandtrytofocusonmybreathing,butit’snouse.Isupposeit’sonlyrighttothrowuphereonelasttime.
OnceIfinishupinthebathroom,Icheckunderthesinkandallarounditforanyleftoverstuff.I,ofcourse,findanotherbobbypinandtuckthatawayinmypocket,buteverythingelseisgone.Sold,donated,oronthetruckoutside.
“It’sreallyhappening,huh?”Sarahsays,pattingthefloornexttoherasInear.
“Itis,”Isay,slidingdownthewalltosit.
“Howareyoufeeling?”
“Betternow,”Ianswer,throwingastickofgumintomymouth.
“ImeantaboutmovinginwithBo.”
“Oh…”Right,that
“Stillworried?”sheasks.
“Yeah,”Isighout.“Hardnottobe.”
“Atleastyou’llbeclosertoourplace.Ilookeditup.It’sonlyaneighteen-minutewalk.”
Inodabsentmindedly,chewinglikeIhaveavendettaagainstmygum.
“Youcanmoveinwithusanytimeifyouneedto.ButIdothinkthisisagoodthing.Maybeit’llbeawkwardforabit,butit’llbeeasytogettoknoweachother.Andoncethebabyarrives,you’regoingtoneedanothersetofhands.”
Iwince.
“Sorry…youknowwhatImean.”
Inod,offeringherarelaxedsmile.
Whenitbecameobvious,fiveweeksago,thatIcouldn’tremainatthisapartmentanylonger,IconsideredtakingSarahuponheroffertomovein.Butultimately,IdecidedIcouldn’t.SarahandCalebhaveveryconsciouslychosennottohavekids.IneverwouldhaveshakenthefeelingthatIwasruiningtheirchild-freeexistence.I’dhavefeltsoguilty.
“Icoulddoitonmyown,”Iargue,mypridebeckoningtobeconsoled.
Sarahflicksmynose.“OfcourseyoucouldButthepointisyoudon’thaveto.Ourmomshadeachother,right?JustthinkofBoastheMarcietoyourJune.”
“It’smorecomplicatedthanthat.”
“BecauseyousleptwithyourMarcie?Becauseyouwanttoagain?”Sarahasks,hervoicesuggestive.
Yes,butnotonlythat.“It’sjustthehormones.”
“TheonesyouhadonHalloweenorthebaby-growingones?”
“Both.”
“Giveyourselfmorecreditthanthat.”Sarahleansagainstme,shouldertoshoulder.“ButIgetwhyyoudon’twanttocomplicatethingsmorenow.”
“It’snotjustthatIsleptwithhim.It’salsotheJack-effect.I’veonlyeverlivedwithoneguybefore.”
“Thatwon’thappenagain,Win.Ipromise,”Sarahsayssternly,takinganothersipofwater.
“IknowitsoundsridiculousbecauseBohasbeennothingbutkindandsupportiveandI’mliterallymovinginwiththeguyasifIdon’thaveacareintheworld,butIcan’thelpbutfeellikethemomentIletmyselfsettlein,he’llturnonmelikeJackdid.”
“Wanttoplayworst-casescenario?”Sarahasks.
It’swhatMarciewouldoffertoplaywithuswhenwewereworriedaboutshitgrowingup.Which,inhindsight,wasmostlystuffnotworthworryingover.Inod,takingadeepbreath.
“SoyoumoveinwithBo,andthingsgowell.Untilonenight,hesnaps.ChangeslikeJekyllandHyde.LikeJack”Shesayshisnamewithtotaldisdain.“Whatwouldyoudo?”
“Leave.Immediately.Walkortaxiovertoyourhouse.”
“Thenwhat?”
“Um…”Itrytoplayitoutinmymindlikehermothertaughtus.Pretendit’sactuallyhappeningandgetintothenooksandbackcornersofmyimaginationtobuildarealisticscenario.“CalebwouldprobablygooverandgetthestuffI’dneedrightaway.YouandIwouldgobackfortherestwhenBowasoutorsomething.”
“Andthen?”
“Mykidwouldn’thaveadad.Orthey’dhaveadadthatIwasscaredof.ThenI’dhavetobeworriedforever.Anxiousaboutthemhavingvisits,nervousduringdrop-offsandpickups.Ifitescalated,I’dhavetogetalawyerandpaytogotocourt.IcouldlosemycasebecauseBohasmoremoneyandcouldaffordabetterlawyer.Icouldendupbeingtheoneintrouble,somehow.Beingtheonewhoaskshimforvisits.”
“Okay,”shesayssoftly,rubbingmybackinslowcircles.“That’stheworst-casescenario,right?Finished?”
Inod,wipingasinglehottearoffmycheek.
“Good,now—doesthatseemlikely?”sheasks,hervoicesincere.
“No,”Ianswerplainly.“No…itdoesn’t.”
“Whatdoyouthinkisactuallygoingtohappen?”
“That’sthething.Idon’tknow.Idon’tseeBobeingaproblem,butIdon’tknowhimwellenoughtoknowwhatitwillactuallybelike.Whenwehangout,webanter,andit’sfunandeasy—butthat’sasfarasIknow.”
“Soit’sawaitandsee.”
“Itjustkeepscomingbacktogettingtoknoweachothermore.”
“Right,whichiswhyIthinkmovinginwithhimisagoodchoice.Hewantstobeinvolved,andIthinktrustinghimuntilhegivesyouareasonnottoishealthy.”
IimagineBothelasttimewesaweachotherinperson—thenightheproposedthisidea.Hisnavycable-knitsweaterunderhisunbuttonedsuedecoat,bluejeanswithbrightgreensockspokingoutunderneath.Notthreateningwhatsoever,whichisimpressive,consideringhisheight.
Ialsothinkofthetextswe’veexchangedsincethen.ThewayIcan’tseemtostopmysmilewitheachflashofhisnameacrossmyscreen,knowingsomethingfunnyorsweetisabouttoappear.Thedailycheck-insandthethank-yousandtheapologiesforhowsickI’vebeen.Theanecdoteshe’slearningfromhisfirst-timedadbook.
I’veconvincedmyselflittlebylittleovereachdayinthelastfewweeksthatthisisagoodidea,butIthinkI’llhavetobecomfortableintheunsurenesstosomeextent.Mostlikely,therewillalwaysbealingeringamountofdistrust,givenwhatIwentthrough.Self-preservationlivesindoubt,afterall.
Sarahclaspsherhandaroundmyknee,appearingdeepinthoughtherself.“Butit’snotjustyouinanyofthat,Win.Intheworstcaseorthebestpossibleoutcome,I’mrighthere.You’vegotmeandCaleb.Whetheryouwantusornot.”
“Iusedtohaveyourback.Rememberthat?”Ipickatmyleggings,frustratedwithmyself.
“Yeah,Iknow.Istillfeelit.”Sheleansagainstme,andIstoppinchingthefabricaroundmyknee.“It’sjustyourturnrightnow.That’sallitis.Turns.”
I’mabouttotellherwereallyshouldbegettingoutofherebeforemylandlordshowsupforinspectionwhenanechoingvoicecomesfromdownthehall.“Sarah?”Calebshoutsfromthestairwell,hisvoicefullofcomicalamountsofdistress.“Nooneisansweringtheirphone.Areyouguysokay?”
IpulloutmyphoneatthesametimeSarahdoes,andwegrimaceateachother.Betweenus,thereareadozenmissedcallsandtexts.“Forgiveme,”shewhispers.“Sorry!Win’shavingameltdown,andI’mlookingafterher!Bedowninaminute!”
Calebappearsatthedoorway,red-facedandsweating.“Pleasedon’tstoponmyaccount.”Helaughs,fallingtothefloorinfrontofus.“I’lljustlayhereanddie.”
“It’sprobablyagoodthingyoutwohavechosennottoprocreate.Howdramaticwouldthatchildbe?”
“HopefullyBo’sDNAlevelsyouout,”Calebsays,peekingatmewithoneeyeopen.Ithrowmygumwrapperathisface.
Wesitforawhileinsilence.ItakeintheemptiedapartmentthatsuddenlyfeelssomuchsmallerwhileCalebcatnapsonthefloorasSarahrubshisshoulder.
InthefouryearsI’vebeenhere,everythinghasbeenforthepurposeofgettingby.Ajobtopaythebills,waitingforsummertocometofeelalittlemorelikemyself,notpushingmyselftodomoreorbemorebecauseI’vebeenafraid.Ihaven’tmadeanyrealprogresshere.I’vesettledintoastagnant,passablelife—safebutperhapstoosafe.SmallerthanthelifeI’dliketolivemovingforward.MaybethisisthefreshstartIneededtogetmyassintogear.
Maybealittlediscomfortwilldomesomegood.CHAPTER14
FollowingbehindCalebinthemovingvan,SarahandIpullontoaquietstreetlightlydustedwithsnowandlinedwithmismatched,picturesqueolderhomes.Thesunisouttoday,andit’sglisteningagainsttheice-coveredblackroofofhousenumberfourteen.Bo’shouse.
Weplannedformetocomevisitafewweeksago,butbetweenBotakingonanewprojectatwork,mygenerallevelofexhaustion,andafewwinterstorms,wejustranoutoftime.
It’sstupidcute.ATudor-stylebungalowwithahighgabledroofontherightsideanddarkbrowntimberingovertopofthewhitestoneexterior.
“Youdidn’ttellmehelivedinSnowWhite’scottage,”Sarahsays,parkinginfrontofthehouse.Calebisparkedinthedrivewaytotherightofthehomeandisalreadyunlatchingthebackofthetruckbeforewestepouttomeethim.
“Iwonderifthesevendwarveswillcomehelpus,”Calebsays,turningtofaceusaswecomeupbehindhim.
“Ijustmadethatjoke,”Sarahchimes,sickeninglysweet,swattingherhusband’sass.“Wait,isBonothere?”sheasks,lookingbetweenthedrivewayandthefrontdoor.
“He’sataworkconferenceallweekend—it’saonce-a-yearthing.Heshouldbebacktomorrow.Hethoughtitwouldbeniceformetohavesometimetosettleinbymyself.”
Sarahhandsmeaboxofplants,passedtoherbyCaleb,who’sstandinginthebackofthemovingvan.“Perfect.Thatmeanswecansnoop.”Shewiggleshereyebrows,mischievousgrininfullforce.
Itaketheboxandmakemywayacrossthegraveldrivewaytothefrontdoor.IputinthecodeBotextedearlier,andthedoorbeepsandunlocksitself.Asmallentrywaywithgorgeous,mosaicbluetilingunderablackwelcomematgreetsme.Againstthelime-washedwhitewallisarowofcoathookswithadarkwoodenshoebenchbeneath.
There’sanarrowdoorstraightaheadofme,aclosetpresumably,andaroundedarchwaytotheleftthatleadsintothelivingroom.Withaheavy-framedwindowfacingthefrontofthepropertyandahollowedmantelofanonfunctionalfireplace,thelivingroomcertainlydoesfeelcottage-like.Thoseandthewoodenbeamsacrossthehighceilingsworktoaddacosinesstotheotherwiseundecoratedroom.
Bodoesn’tseemtohavemanypersonalitems.Thereareafewbooksonthecoffeetableandasetofwallsconcesoneithersideofthemantel,butotherthanthat,thewallsarebare.Asimplegreysofasitsinthecentreoftheroom,standardtomostsinglemenI’veeverencountered,alongsideamatchingwingbackchairinthecornernexttothewindow.IwonderifIcanstealthespotnexttoitformyplantstand.They’dgetgreatsunthere.
Movingfartherintothehome,Istepintotheadjoiningroomthatisdesignedtobeadiningroom.Currently,theonlypiecesoffurnitureinhereareadesk,tuckedintothefarcornerandtoppedwithamonitorandpilesofloosesheetsofpaper,andawalnutmediaunithousinganimpressivevinylcollection.Theremustbehundredsofrecordsorganisedintotheslotsbelowthespeakersandturntablethatsitontopoftheunit.
Untilnow,Ihaven’tconsideredthatthemanImadeababywithcouldhaveterribletasteinmusic.Or,evenworse,couldbeoneofthosepeoplewhodoesn’tlikemusicatall.ThatshouldabsolutelybeadeterminingfactorwhenconsideringwhotomixDNAwith.SowhenIspotaNatKingColerecordnexttoFleetwoodMac’sGreatestHits,IthankBosilentlyforbeingsomeonewithtaste,forthesakeofourchild.
Totherightofthemediaunit,throughanotherwidearchway,isBo’skitchen,whichappearstobethemostupdatedroominthehouse.Underlongrectangularwindowsoverlookingthelargesnow-coveredbackyardisawallofdark-greybottomcabinetswithwhitemarble-topcounters,separatedbyastainless-steelgasoven.BetweenthosecabinetsandwhereIstandisanislandwithnooverhangforsitting.Inthecentreoftheislandisadeep,matte-blacksink.ThecabinetsonthefarwallformanL-shape,stoppingjustbeforeanarrowerarchwayleadstoabrightlylithallway.Betweenthecabinetsandthearchwayisanequallybeautifulstainless-steelfridgewithanicedispenser.
That’sright.Afuckingicedispenser!Iamthatbitchnow.
“Okay,soit’saverycutebutveryblankcanvas,”Sarahsays,comingupbehindmeandplacingaboxonthekitchencounter.“Withyourplantsandalittlesprucing,thisplacewillbeabsolutelyperfect.”Shethrowsherarmaroundme,jumpingoncewithgiddyexcitement.“Whatareyouthinking?Whyareyoulookingsosad?”
“Theideaofhavingaconstantsupplyoficeismakingmeabitemotional,”Isay,raisingaslowfingertopointatthefridge.
“Yourprioritiesare,asalways,impeccable,”shesays,pushingpastmetowardthehallway.“Let’sseewhatyourbedroomlookslike.”
Ifollowherdownthehall,caressingthefridgelonginglyasIpassby.
“Heleftallthedoorsopensoyoucouldlookaround.That’sthoughtful,”Sarahsaysoverhershoulder,disappearingintothefarthestbedroom.
Ipeekinthefirstdooronthelefttoseeadecentlysizedsquare-shapedbedroomwiththesamewhitelime-washedwallsanddarkflooringastherestofthehome.There’sasimplewalnut-colouredbedframepushedintothefarcornerunderablind-coveredwindowandnotmuchelse,otherthanaglassdomeceilinglight.Mynewbedroom,Ipresume.
Nextdoorisasmallerbedroomwithlight-greywalls,alongverticalwindowthatoverlooksthebackyard,andasmallbuilt-inclosettotheleft.It’salsocompletelyemptyapartfromsomeethernetcablestangledinthefarcorner,awi-firouter,andahalf-filledboxlabelledDonate.
Realisingthatthisistheroomintendedtobethebaby’snursery,Ileanagainstthedoorframeandadmireitalittlemorecarefully,notingthewaytheafternoonsuncreatesasmallrainbowonthewallclosesttothecloset.IwonderwhatBowouldthinkofpaintingtheroomyellow.Ithinkitwouldtakethatlittleclusterofafternoonlightandmakeitfeelevenbrighter.
WhenIturnaroundtowandertowardsthenextroom,Calebisstandingsilentlybehindme.Hiseyesarelockedoverhisshoulder,thenheslowlyturnshisattentiontowardme.Weshareashy,hopefulsmile.
“Baby’sroom?”heaskssimply.
Inod.
“Doyoulikeit?”
“Yeah,”Isay,tearsthreateningtospringloose.
“It’sagreatroom.”
“Youthink?”Iask,myvoicewobbling.Ilaughatmyself,wipingasingletearaway.“Ohmygod,thesefuckinghormones,”Icomplain.“It’snicethough,right?”
“Hey,”Calebsays,outstretchingonearm.Iwalktohim,lettingmyheadrestonhischest.Hepatsmyshoulderafewtimes,thengrabsholdofitandshakesmeagainsthim,laughinginamockingyetgentlemanner.“Thisisgood,Win.Thisisagreatplace,andthat’saperfectroom.Don’tbesad.Don’tcry.”
“I’mnotsad.It’sjustabigchange,youknow?”Isay,standingonmyownandsteppingback.“Ithinkit’sjustabitjarringtoseetheroommybabywillbesleepingin.That’sall.”
“Igetthat.But—”
Sarahappearsinthehallway,windswept,asifshe’sbeenrunning,distractingCalebmid-sentence.“Ifoundcondoms.Brandnewinplastic-wrappedpackaging,”sheannouncesinthetoneofanewsreporter.
Well,thatwasasoberingentrance.Ilookatherblankly,takinginherunblinkingeyesandcrazedexpression.“Inmyroom?”Iask,confused.
“No,obviouslynot.There’sliterallyjustabedandmattressinyourroom.InBo’s.”Shedartsbackinsidethedoortoourleft.
“Sarah,no!Getoutofthere.”Ifollowherin.“Stopsnoop—”IcannotcontinuechastisingheronceIfindmyselfinthecentreofBo’sbedroom.Unliketherestofhishome,thisroomiscuratedtohimexactly.It’sfilledtothebrimwithartandbelongings.
Onewallispainteddarkgreenbehindaslottedpineheadboard.Thebediscoveredingreyishbeigebeddingandhasarusticwoodenbenchatthefootofit.Underboththebedandthebenchisalargenatural-wovenrugthatstopsbeforetwonightstandswithopenshelvingandshallowdrawersatthetop.
Ontherightnightstand,there’sacollectionofwhat,atfirstglance,someonecouldmistakefordirtymagazines.Butthey’reactually—
“Comicbooks,”Sarahsays,snickering.
“I’veseenwhatyoureadonyourKindle.You’reinnoplacetojudge.”
Sheraisesafingertomakeacounterargument,thenlowersit,noddingtoherselfinasadsortofacceptance.
“Doyouthinkhe’dletmeborrowthis?”Calebasks,emergingfromBo’sclosetwearingaknight’sarmourchestpieceandhelmet.
“Bothofyou,stop.Weshouldn’tbeinhereortouchinghisstuff.”
“Doyouthinkheroleplaysinbed?”Sarahasks,practicallyskippingovertoherhusbandbeforebrushingherhandoverthemetalonhischest.“Thatcouldbekindofhot,”shesaystomeoverhershoulder,smirking.
“Milady,”Calebsays,bendingtokissher.Shegigglesastheirlipsmeet.
“Ohmygod,seriously?Nowyou’redefilinghisthings!”
“Seemsonlyfair,”Calebsays,takingoffthehelmetandholdingittohiship.“Wehaven’tbeenabletomessaroundinourguestbedroomsincewefoundoutthatithassomesortofmagicbaby-makingenergy.”
“That’snothowitworks,”Isighoutundermybreath.“Please,just—puteverythingback.”
“Win,Ithinkyourbabydaddymightbeahugenerd,”Sarahsays,walkingbacktowardmeasCalebskulksaway.
Ilookoverhershoulderattheframedsepiaartprintonthewallnexttotheclosetdoor.It’sapencilsketchpatentoftheStarTrekEnterprise.“Well,that’swhatI’mherefor,right?Togettoknowtheguy.”Definitelyanerd.
“Exactly…WhichiswhyIlookedinhisdrawers.”
“Ohmygod,”Imutter,pinchingthebridgeofmynose.“Notthesamething.”
“Tellme,WinnifredJune,whydoesamanbuycondoms?”
Ipullupmyshirtandpointtothesmallestofbabybumpsthat’sstartedtotakeshape.Itlooksmorelikeabloatedstomachafteralargeburritobetweenmysquishy,softhips.“Maybetoavoidthis?”
“No,buthehasn’tusedthem.Theboxisstillwrappedinplastic.”
“Sarah,whatisyourpointhere?Wehaveanentiretrucktounpack,andIreallydon’tthinkweshouldbeinhisroomordiscussingtheman’ssexlife.”IglanceovermyshoulderasathudcomesfromtheclosetwhereCalebis.“Stopdoingwhateveryou’redoinginthere!”Ishoutathim.
“He’snothavingsexwithanyoneelse,”Sarahsays,grinninglikeafeline.
Calebislaughinginthecloset,andIswearIhearthesoundofalightsaberopening.
“OrBohadsomuchsexheranoutandhadtobuymore,”Iargue.Herfacefallsinstantly.She’ssobetrayedbytheverynotionofBohavingsexwithsomeoneelsethatIalmostfeelguiltyforsuggestingit.“Sar,Iknowyourheartisintherightplace,butBoandIarenotacouplefromoneofyourbooks.Ifhewasplanningonhavingsexwithme,thenhewouldn’tneedthose,wouldhe?”
“Thislogichasbackfired.I’lladmitit.”
“AndI’mnotplanningonhavingsexwithhim,whichisanotherfactoryouseemtokeepforgetting.”
Justthen,CalebcomesoutofBo’sclosetholdingsomethinginhishands,chucklingdarkly.“Thinkhe’samountainclimber,or…?”
Mythroattensesanddriesatthesightofsilkyblackrope.Calebthrowsitoverhisshoulderslikeashittyfeatherboa.
Sarahsnort-laughs,flippingthroughacomicbookatthesideofthebed.
“Putthatbacknowandgowaitatthetruck,”Iseethe.“Andyou.”IpointtoSarah,butthendrawablank.“Just…comeseethebathroomwithme,Iguess.Neitherofyouareallowedtocomebackinhere,understood?”
Theybothrolltheireyes.Calebstompsbackintothecloset,andSarahpoutsassheslotsthecomicbookbackintothestack.Imakethemleavetheroombeforedoingalastcheckthatnothingisoutofplace.IshutthedoorbehindusandfollowSarahintothebathroomacrossthehall.
It’scertainlyatightfitwithbothofusinhere,becausethelargeglassshowerstalltakesupmostoftheroom.Blackhexagonalfloortilesclashbeautifullywithwhitewallsthatturntotileinsidetheshowerwithabuilt-intiledbench.There’sasmallvanitywithalittlestorageunderneaththesinkandamirroredmedicinecabinetabove.
“You’llhavetocometakebathsatmyplace,Iguess,”Sarahsays,sittingontheclosedtoiletseat.
Ihavetoadmit,Iwasn’texpectingtobesodevastatedbythelackofatub,buttherealityishittinghard.BathsarewhereIunwind,process,anddecompress.Andoverthepastmonth,it’swhereI’vealsofoundcomfortformytired,achingbody.
“Maybe,”Ipout,turningthesink’sfaucetonandoffagain.
“Orgetatubinstalled?He’sgotthemoney,clearly.Theroomisbigenough.”
Ilaughundermybreath.“Yes,I’llstartmakingalistofdemands.”Istandstraighter,puttingonanimpressionofmyworstself.“Thankyou,Bo,forlettingmemoveinherebecauseI’vefailedtobecomeasuccessfuladultonmyownaccordandgotknockedupbyyou.Howwouldyoufeelaboutafullbathroomrenovation?Andperhaps,whileyou’reatit,couldyoubuildmeatowertosleepin?”
Sarahsmilesupatme.“Fairenough,”shesays,movingtostandatmyside.Welookatourreflectionsinthemirror,andbothsighwistfully.
“Plus,theshowermaybeanecessity,”Isay,notingthemultiplegrabbarsinstalled.“I’llmissbaths,butIdon’tneedbaths.”
“Agreetodisagree,”Sarahsays,fiddlingwithherhairassheadmiresherreflectionwithpoutedlipsandraisedbrows.Idothesame,fluffingmybangssotheyfallbetter.“Weusedtodothiseveryday,”shesayssoulfully,makingeyecontactinthemirror.
“Hmm?”
“Getreadytogether,sharingamirror.Imissitsometimes.Imissthatoldapartmentalot.”
Imissittoo.ImissMarcieandmymomtogether,dancinginthekitchenandgigglinglikeschoolgirlsintotheirglassesofpinotgrigio.Imissthechaosoffourwomentryingtoshareonebathroomandonevehicle.Imissfeelingyoungandcarefreeandnaive.IwastedsomuchofthattimewishingIwasolder.Waitingimpatientlytogetoutandlivemyownlife.Butthatneverreallyhappened.Ijustgotolder.Andnowlookatme.Nothingtoshowforit.
“Youstoleallofmymakeup,”Iargue,avoidingthesinkingnostalgiainmychest.
“Yeah,butIalwaysbraidedyourhairinexchange,”shequips,fiddlingwithastrandofmyhair.Thensherubsherlipstogether,hereyeslockingonmyshoulderasshetwistsmyhair,hermindfaroff.“I,uh,talkedtoJunelastnight,actually.”
“Oh.”It’snotacompletesurprisethatmymotherwouldcallSarah,sinceIhaven’treturnedhercallsinoveramonth,butitissurprisingthatshewaiteduntilnowtotellmetheyspoke.Usually,IgetatextmessagefromSarahsettingmestraightrightaway.Tellingmetoknockitoffandquitmakingherthemiddleman.
“She’sworriedaboutyou.Saysyou’vegonequietonher.”
“Right.”
“Iknowit’shard,Win.Iknowwhatshe’slike.Butyou’vegottotellher.Shemissesyou,andIdon’tthinkshe’llreactterribly.She’dbeahypocriteifshedid.”
“Iknow.I-I’mgoingto.It’sjustbeenreallybusysincefindingout.Andprocessingallofthesechanges.Andthenpackingupandmoving.ButIpromiseIwill.I’llcallhertonight.”
“Okay,”Sarahsays,droppingthenowtightlybraidedstrandofhairnexttomyear.“Good.”
Wesmilesoftlyateachother,facingthemirror.
“WeshouldprobablygohelpCaleb,”shesays,hermouthtwitchingintoagrin.
Ilaugh,grimacing.“Oh,shit,right.Itotallyforgotabouthimoutthere.”
Thenwesprinttothefrontyard.CHAPTER15
Afterhoursofunloading,unpacking,andshufflingfurniturearoundmybedroom,wedecidedtocallitaday.SarahandCalebtookoffafterIhadpizzadelivered,leavingmewithanentireboxtomyselfinaneerilyquiethouse.
Ittookmeafewtries,buteventually,Igottherecordplayergoing.NowFrankSinatraissingingaboutridinghighinAprilasIloadmysheetsintothedryer,singingalongloudenoughthatthehousenolongerfeelssosparse.Withnoneighbourssharingawalltoworryabout,Ibeltoutthelyricswithflair.LaughingtowardtheceilingwhendearoldFrankreferstohimselfashavingoncebeenapirate.Becausethatisexactlywhatlandedmehere.
And,dammit,I’mgoingtopickmyselfbackupandgetbackintheracetoo.JustasMr.Sinatrasuggests.
Iglidearoundthehouse,smoothlywaltzingwithahandonthetopofmywannabebabybumpandstoppingalongthewayformanyicechipbreaks.WhenmysheetsfinishinthedryerjustasthelasttrackontheB-sidefadesout,Imakemybedandcrawlintoit.
Pullingoutmyphone,IimmediatelycheckmytextsfromBo.HeaskshowI’msettlingin,providesinstructionsforthefaucetintheshower—whichwasapparentlyinstalledbackwardandcanbetemperamental—andletsmeknowhe’llbebacktomorrowbeforelunch.Iquicklyrespondbeforepullingupmytextswithmymom.ItypeoutafewapologiesbeforeIdecidetojustcallherinstead
Itringsonlyoncebeforeshepicksup.
“Shelives,”mymotherdeclaresasaformofgreeting.
“Hey,Mom.Sorry.Thingshavebeenreallybusylately.I’vemissedyou.”
“Sarahsaidthattoo.Shedidn’tsaymuchelse,though.Keepingyoursecrets,asalways.Iassumethat’swhyyou’recalling?Shedidn’twanttoplaymiddleman?”
“No!Well,yes,shedidtellmeyoucalled.Butthingsreallyhavebeenbusy.Andyes—thereissomethingIneedtotellyou.”Ilookuptotheceiling,willingthewordstocome.Or,alternatively,willingthewell-timedbeginningofanalieninvasionorapocalypticevent.“I’mpregnant,”Isay.
Twowords.That’sit.Simple.Outtherenow.Notakingitback.
Thelinegoesquiet.Painfullyquiet.
“Mom?”
“I’mhere.”
“Did—didyouhearme?”
“Hearwhat?Sorry,myshowison.”
“LaReinadelSur?Mom,it’sonNetflix—justpauseit.”Sometraditions,likeSundaynighttelenovelas,neverdie.That’sprobablywhatSarahisdoinginbedrightnowtoo.Thatwasalwaystheirthing,andsometimesMarcieandIwereinvitedtojoin.Onlyifwedidn’tasktoomanyquestionslike:Wasn’thedead?Whoisthat?Whendidshehavetimeforanaffairbetweenthemurderingsprees?Isn’tthatherstepfather?
Shegrumbles,herchairsqueakingasshereachesfortheremote.“Fine,fine,fine.Just,youcaughtmeduringajuicybit.Teresajustcalled—”
“I’mpregnant,”Iinterrupt.
“You?”shesaysabruptly,accompaniedbyastunnedlaugh.
Idon’tknowwhyhersurpriseoffendsme,butitdoes.“Yes,me.”
Shemakesasoundlikesputtering.It’shalfamusement,partialshock.“Well…who’stheguy?”
Ofcourse.Nohowareyoufeeling?Orhowfaralong?Or—okay,Isupposethenextquestionmightbewho’stheguy,butthefirsttwomattermore.“HisnameisBo.He’safriendofmine.Wegotcaughtupataparty,and…youknowtherest.”Notacompletefabrication.Mymomdoesn’tneedtoknowIfuckedtheguythesamedayImethim.Somethingsdon’tneedtobesharedwiththewomanwhobeganpreachingabstinence-above-alltomewhenIwasten.
“Birthcontrolzero;McNultywomentwo,”Ijokeflatly.
“And?Ishealoseroradecentman?”
Ilookaroundthenicebedroominhishousewhilesittingonmynewbedthatheprovidedandnodtomyself.“Adecentman.We’ve,uh,we’veactuallymovedintogether.”
Ihearawhimperdownthephone.Ahappysortofreliefmixedwithacontentedsigh.“Oh,that’swonderful,Winnie.Truly,trulywonderful.”
Iprobablyshouldhavementionedthecontextinwhichwearemovingintogether,butwhybothernow?I’mnotgoingtosetmyselfupforamoredifficultconversationifIdon’thaveto.“I’msorryIdidn’tcallearlier;it’sbeenawhirlwind.I’vebeenreallysick,and—”
“What’shelike?”
“Yikes,”IrespondbeforeIcanhelpit.
“What?”shesnipsback.
“Mom,”ItrytosoundlessagitatedthanIfeel.“IwasjusttellingyouI’vebeenthrowingmygutsupeveryday,andyouinterrupttoaskmeabouthim.Boisfine.He’sgreat.Butyourdaughtercouldusesomematernaladvice.”
“Sorry,you’reright.Iwassosickwithyoutoo,chickie.It’sawful,butsomedaysoon,it’llallbeworthit.”
“Anytips?”
“Theonlythingthatworkedformewasconsumingmyweightinrootbeerandsaltedpretzelsdaily.Doctorswouldprobablywarnyouagainstthatmethodthesedays.”
“Thinkthat’showIgotmyhand?”
“WinnifredJune!”
Igiggleintothephone.Mymomdoestoo,butshe’sfightingitasshealwaysattemptsto.
“I’mdueJulytwenty-fourth,”Itellheronceourgigglessoften.
“Oh,wow.So…you’reafewmonthsalong.”There’sanunmistakabletwingeofhurtinhervoicethatIobviouslyputthere.Ihatethatshe’supset,butIalsocan’tsayIwishIhadcalledearlier.IfIhadn’twaited,ifI’dtoldherbeforedecidingtomoveinwithBo,thisconversationwouldbealectureandaseriesofdisappointment-filledplatitudes.
Ithoughtyou’dhavelearnedfrommymistakes.Iraisedyoubetterthanthis.Howexactlyareyougoingtoprovideforthisbabyonyourownwhileworkingatacafé?Whatmanwillwantyounow?
And,sure,I’musingBoasanunknowingsafetynetbyallowingmymomtothinkwe’retogetherromantically.Butwhatneitherofthemdon’tknowwon’thurtthem.
“I’mfifteenweeksalong,asofyesterday.”Ipause,feelingatingeofguilt.“Itreallyhasbeenbusy.Ipromise.”
“Well,thanksfortellingmenow,Iguess.”
“Iamsorry,Mom.IthinkIgotinmyheadabouttellingyou.Iwasn’treadyforittofeelrealyet.”
“Doesitfeelrealnow?”sheasks.
“No,”Ianswerhonestly.
Shesighs,somecompassionreturningtoherhummingtone.“Ifeltthatwaytoo.Upuntiltheyputateeny,screamingyouinmyarms,itallfeltabitmadeup.”
“Thenitfeltwonderful?Thebiggestblessingofyourlife?Agiftfromtheheavens?”Iask,myvoicetheatrical.
“Suredid.Thenscary.Thenwonderfulsomemore.Thenscaryagain.Yousortofrepeatthatuntil…forever.Andifyou’rereallylucky,oneday,thatbabycallsyouonarandomSundayeveninginFebruaryandtellsyouthatyou’regoingtobeagrandma.”
“Surprise,”Isingsongweakly.
“Guessit’smyturntovisityouthissummer,huh?”
“I’dlikethat,please.”
“Itakeityourscheduleisabitfreedup,”shelaughsout.
“Augustmaybebest—tomakesurethekidshowsupbeforeyouarrive.Wouldn’twantyouhereformyduedateincasethebabygetsstagefright.”AndIdon’twantyouanywherenearthathospitalroom,Ithinktomyself.
“Well,letmecheckwithDuncanaboutwhenagoodtimeformetocomeupwouldbe.”
“Didyougetanewpsychic?WhathappenedtoMaureen?”
“No,sweetie,Duncanismybeau.We’regoingonfourmonths.We’vetalkedabouthimbefore.Oh!”Shelaughsindelight.“Ihaveabeau,andyouhaveaBo.”
Duncan?Idon’tthinkI’veheardofhimbefore.ButIcan’tsaythattoMomwithoutriskinganotherfeudliketheTravisincidentoflastJuly.Mymothertakesgreatoffenceatmylackofinterestwhenitcomestoherlovelifeandmyinabilitytokeeptrackofthemencomingandgoing.
Iknowitmakesmeahypocrite,becauseIcouldn’tcarelesswhenfriendsofminesleeparoundorareserialmonogamists,butIhateitformymom.Alwayshave.Iwantmorethanforhertopourallofherselfintoamanforafewweeksormonthsatatimeandthenfeelemptiedoutwhentheystopshowingup.
“Duncan,right.Ofcourse.Isheapilotorjustveryastuteatknowingwhentravelisappropriate?”Iask,atadbitchy,I’lladmit.
“Well,Ican’tjusttakeoffonhim,Winnie.”Shelaughsatmyobviousabsurdity.
“No?Notforafewdaystovisityouronlydaughterandgrandchild?”
“IsaidI’llcheck,Win.Quitsassingyourmother.”
Iinhaleandexhaleslowly,shakingmyself.“Yeah,okay.Just,letmeknow,allright?”
“Willdo…”Shesmacksherlips,searchingforanothertopic—andevidently,comesupdry.“Well,I’llletyougo,then.”
“Okay,Mom.”Icouldaskhertokeeptalking.Icouldtellherhowterrifyingthisallfeels.HowmuchIwishIcouldbothfast-forwardandrewindtime.HowmuchI’dreallylikeoneofherlong,tighthugs.ButIdon’t.“Iloveyou,”Isayinstead.
“Loveyoutoo,sweetgirl.Ihopeyougetplentyofrest.Tellthatgrandbabytoeaseuponyou.”
“Willdo.Bye.”
Ihangupandpressthephonetomychin,rollingontomybackandstaringupattheceiling.Ireplaythephonecallandfeelrelieved,knowingthatwithmymother—thequeenofunpredictableemotions—itcouldhavegonefarworse.Andhey,atleastnowsheknows.Icantakethatoffmyeternallylonglistofto-dosbeforethebaby’sarrival.AlistIshould,nowthatI’mthinkingaboutit,actuallywritedown.
I’mabouttocountthedayasawinoverall,rollover,andpassoutonmyverycomfortablenewmattresswhenIrealiseIforgottocheckwhetherthedoorwaslocked.Andwhilethebedbeckonsformetostayandcocooninsideit,Idon’tparticularlyenjoytheideaofbeingbludgeonedinmysleeporhavingthehouseburglarisedonnightone.So,whiningevenstill,Idragmyselfoutofbedandstumbletowardthefrontdoorin
Inoticethedeadboltisinplacefromadistance,butIstillgointotheentrywaytocheckthehandle.Iaccidentallysteponapileofmailonthefloorthatmusthavebeendeliveredthroughthefrontdoor’sslot.
RobertDurand,Ireadoffthetopenvelope.Notimelikethepresenttofindoutthesurnameofmybabydaddy,Iguess…WhatonearthamIdoing?
Amongstthecollectionofflyersandnondescriptenvelopesisacomicbook,stillhalfbentfromdelivery.Ipickitallupwitheveryintentionofdroppingthepileonthecounterandgoingbacktobed.ButwhenIplacethemaildown,theshiny,floppycomicstaresupatmewithbrightfontsandcolourstoointerestingtoignore.Idecidesomelate-nightreadingwon’thurtandbringthecomictomybedroom.
Igetbackintobed,fluffingmypillowsbeforeIlieagainstthem.TheAnnihilatorIssue392,itreads.IwonderifBohasallthreehundredandninety-onepreviouseditionssomewhere.Iguess,unlikeCaleb,Ineverventuredintohisclosettoseewhatwasinthere.HecouldhavealotofstuffIdon’tknowabout.Likemorerope,forexample.
Nope.That’sadangerousthingtoimagine.Decidedlynotfollowingthattrainofthought.
Andsure,Idon’tknowwhothisAnnihilatorguyis—orwhyhe’ssobutthurtthatthekingofhellhasbeenoverthrownbythisscantilycladSerinthinabadass.Butdamn,thisshitisentertainingfromthejump.
Thereisalargebitofmutualpininggoingonbetweenthesetwo“enemies,”andIameatingitup.I’vealsogatheredthatthere’ssomesortofimmortaldeitythattheybothfear,whichcanonlybedestroyediftheyworktogether—begrudgingly,ofcourse.Idon’tknowmuchelse,however,giventhatIhaven’treadthepreviousissues.Halfoftheseterms,names,andplacesmeannothingtome.Still…Isortofloveit.Onthelastpage,amidstsomeexcellentbanterpostbattle,SerinthinaheavilyalludesthatthesetwogotdownanddirtyontheIcePlanetBorgue.IblamethehornypregnancyhormonesforthespeedatwhichIpickupmyphonetogooglewhichissuethatcouldhavebeenin.
ThenI’mspendingalittleoverthreedollarstodownloadissueonehundredandeighty-oneontomyphone.AllforthesakeofgettingtoknowBoandhisinterestsbetter,ofcourse.
Notatalltoseethehornyaliensfuck.CHAPTER16
IstayeduphalfthenightreadingoldissuesofTheAnnihilatorandpaidforitthismorningwhenmyeyeshadtofighttoopenatthesoundofmyalarm.Idon’thaveworktoday,butIshouldspendafewhoursthismorningunpackingandsettlinginbeforeBoarriveshome.It’sonethingtohaveboxesorplantspiledupinmybedroom,butIdon’twanttheminthekitchenorlivingroom,takinguptoomuchspaceandgettinginhisway.
AndjustasIloadmylastmugfromthefinalkitchenboxintothedishwasher,thefrontdoorbeepsandhumsasitunlocks,announcingBo’sreturn.
“Hello,”hecallsout,shuttingthedoorbehindhim.
“Hey,”Ireply,fillingthedishwasherwithdetergent,grinningtomyself.“I’minthekitchen,”Iadd.
WhenIshutthedishwasherandturnaround,Bo’sleanedagainstthearchway,hiscoatfoldedoverhisarmandacanvasduffelbaginhisgrasp.“Hey,roomie,”hesays,hissmilewideanddownrightcontagious.
“Welcomehome,”Isay,bowingintoastupidlittlecurtsythatIimmediatelyregret.“Youhaveagreatplace.”
Bo’seyesfallovermyshoulder,admiringtheplantsI’vehunginfrontofthekitchenwindow.“Iliketheplants,”hesays.“Outtheretoo.”Hepointstothelivingroomwithathumboverhisshoulder.
“Nottoomany?”Iask,grimacing.
Heshrugs,asiftoappearindifferent,butaquicktwitchofhislipsgiveshimaway.“Notatall,”heforcesout,hispitchwavering.
“Ohgod…it’stoomany.”
“It’scertainlymorethanIwasexpecting,butIlikethem.Promise.”
“Ididtrytowarnyou,”Isay,grabbingacupofice.“Also,thiswasagreatsurprise.”
“Afridge?”heasks,switchinghisbagbetweenhands.
Ihuffoutalaugh.“No,dingus.Theicemaker.”
“Didyoujustcallmeadingus?”
“Ifthedingus-shoefits.”WhatthefuckamIsaying?Ishouldn’ttrytobefunnyorflirtonnexttonosleep.NotthatI’mattemptingtoflirt.Thatwouldbefoolishofme…right?Right.
Ilookathisluggage,thenbackathisface,focusingonthedarkcirclesunderhiseyes.“Sorry.Uh,I’llletyougetsettled.Didyouwantsomecoffee,maybe?IfImakesome?”
Hehums.“Yes,I’dloveone.Thankyou.DoyouneedthebathroombeforeItakeashower?”
“Nope,goahead.”
Twentyminuteslater,IfinishmakingBoaredeye,withthehelpofhisveryfancyespressomachine.Andasifhesmelledit,hepromptlyappearsfromthebathroom,wearinggreybasketballshorts,abeigehoodie,andglasses.Blackthin-framedglassesthathisdamp-darkenedhairdipsbelowontherightside.
Idamnnearswallowmytongue.
AsifweneededtoaddglassestothispowderkegofhormonesIusedtocallmybody.
“Orderup,”Isay,presentinghimwithhiscoffeeinaclearglassmug.
“You’rethebest,thankyou.”Hetakesalongsip,hisheadfallingbackashemoans.“Espressotoo?”
“Youlookedtired,”Ireplyshylywhilehehumshisappreciationagain.
“Seriously,youarethebest.”
“What’syourplanfortheday?”Iask,pullingsomecarrotsticksoutofthefridgetosnackonanddroppingthemintoabowl.
“IhavetodayoffsinceIwassortofworkingallweekend.Whataboutyou?”
IcovermymouthtoavoidspewingbitsofcarrotathimasIspeak.“ThecaféisclosedonMondays.IwasthinkingaboutgoingforawalktothebeachbeforeIhangoutwithSarahlater.Didyouknowyouonlyliveaten-minutewalkfromoneoftheprettiestbeacheswiththemoste-colicontaminatedwaterinSouthernOntario?”Iask.
“Thefishcomeoutwithanextraeye,butman,theviewisbeautiful,”Boreplies,turningaroundtoleavethekitchen.
“Also,Ihaveaconfession,”Isay,followinghimtowardthelivingroom,carryingaglassofwaterandabowlofcarrotsticksinthecrookofmywrist.Helowersontothearmchairinthecorner,gentlymovingaleafofmyfernawayfromhisneckandtuckingitbehindthechairbeforehesettlesbackintotheseat.Itakethecouch.“Istoleyourmail.”
“Theftondayone?Waytocomeoutswinging,”hesays,smirking.“Irespectit.”
“TheAnnihilator,”Isay,flaringmyhandsfordramaticeffect.“Asurprisinglygreatread.”
Bo’ssmirkturnsintoafull-fledged,lopsidedgrin,hiseyesdancingaroundmyface.“Youactuallyreadit?”
“Idid,andthenIfelldownarabbitholeandreadaboutadozenothersbeforepassingoutlastnight.Hadtodownloadareadingapponmyphonetodoit.Icommitted.”
“They’reallinmyroom.Youcould’vesavedyourselfthemoney.”
“Ah,well,I-Ididn’twanttoinvadeyourspace.MorethanIhavealready…”Isay,wincing.
Hescowlsplayfully.“You’renotinvadinganything.”Hetakesalongsipofhiscoffee,andIfindgreatsatisfactioninwatchinghimswayfromsidetosideashedrinksit—asifhe’snevertastedanythingsodelicious.“ButIsupposeifyoudidn’tventureintomyroomyet,IshouldwarnyouthatI’mabitofa—”
“Massivenerd?”Iinterrupt.
“Okay,ouch,”helaughsout.
“Sarahsnoopedaroundyourroom.CalebandIfollowed.Itriedtogetthemout,buttheywerelikekidsinatoystore.I’msorry.”
“Ileftmydooropenonpurpose,Win.Iknewyou’dprobablygointhere.IhidalltheshitIdidn’twantyoutosee.”
“Suchas?”Iask,mynosinessbeatingoutanyshredofpolitenessfortime
“Okay,fine,Ionlyhidonething.”
“Curious…”
“I’mallowedonesecret,”hesays,smilingintohismug
Interesting.Whateveritis,itmustbejuicierthantherope,sincehedidn’tbothertohidethat.Don’tsayanythingaboutrope,Win.Changethesubjectbeforeyoudo.“Youknow,atfirst,Iwassurprisedaboutyournerdom,butthenonceIstartedputtingthepiecestogether?Itallsortofmadesense,”Isay,crossingmylegsunderme,leaningagainstthebackofthecouch.
“Ihavetoknowwhatthatmeans.”
“Well,youlovemath.You’refartooprettytobeashumbleasyouare,whichmeansyouwereeithernotashotasateenager,oryoujustweren’tinwiththecoolcrowd.I’mguessingyouwerelikeCaleb—alatebloomerwithabunchofgeekyintereststhatkepttheladiesfromknockingdownyourdoor.”
“Well,itworkedforhim,”Bosays,oneeyebrowraisedashetakesalong,thoughtfulsip.“Sarah’sgreat.”
“Well,amIright?”
“Annoyingly,yes.Iwasabandgeekandanerdinhighschool.Awinningcombination.”Heshakeshishead,smilingathislap.“Ihavetoadmit,Ithoughtit’dbeabitlongerbeforeyoureadmelikeabook.IbelievedIhadanairofmysteryaboutme.”
“Youdid.UntilIsawthedorkcave.”
“Dorkcave…okay…”Hechewshischeek,mischievousnessinhiseyes.“Soyou’resayingthatif,onHalloween,wehadcomebackhereinsteadofSarah’sguestroom,andyou’dseentheveryfewcollectiblesIown,thingsmayhaveendeddifferently?”
“Ididn’tsaythat.”Ileanback,confidentlycrossingmyarms.
“Sowhatdoesthatmakeyou?Anerd-chaser?”
“Justhorny,Iguess.”
Helaughs,histhroatbobbing.“Well,I’mgladourplanofgettingtoknoweachotherisalreadyworking.”
“Iremainamystery,however.”Iwigglemybrows.
“We’llworkonthat,”hesays,hiseyesflickingdowntomysweater.“Startingwith—didyouseriouslygotoHarvard?”
IthriftedthissweatersolongagoIforgotwhatitevensaidacrossthefront.“No,heh,notHarvard.IwenttoLakeheadforOutdoorRecreation,Parks,andTourism,withaconcentrationinnature-basedtherapeuticrecreation.Ihaveabachelor’sdegreeinhowtotakepeoplecanoeingfortheirmentalhealth,essentially.”
“Don’tdothat,”Bosayssternly.
“What?”Iblinkatdoublespeed.
“Dismissyourselflikethat.Thatsoundsreallyfuckingcoolandimportanttome.Don’ttrivialisewhatyouaccomplished.”
“Oh,uh,well…thanks.”
“Whatdidyouwanttodoafteryourdegree?”
“Thedreamwastoopenasummercampforkidswithdisabilities.Aplacebuilttoshowthemhowtoadapttheequipment,givethemthetimeandpatiencetolearnthattheyhadn’tgottenanywhereelse.Butobviously,thatdidn’thappen.”
“Why?”
“Whywhat?”
“Whydidn’tthathappen?Itseemstomakesomuchsense.”
“Oh,”Istutter,reachingformywatertotakeasip.“Iguess,uh,lifejusthappenedinstead.”
Bowaitsformetogoon,gentlyholdingeyecontact.Istarttofeelatightnessinmychest,spreadingupmythroat.Butthisiswhatwe’reheretodo,right?Gettoknoweachother?I’llgivehimthecondensedversion.Hedoesn’tneedtoknoweverything.
“Therewasthisguy…Jack.”
“Hatehimalready,”Bosays,onecornerofhismouthraising.
“Yeah,well,goodinstincts.”Ilaughnervously.“Wemetinmysecond-yearbiologycourse.Hewasdoinganundergradinkinesiology.Weseemedtohavealotincommon,sharedalotofthesamefriendgroup,theusualstuff.Eventually,afterafewtoomanybeersaroundacampfireonenight,wesortoffellintodating.Wefinishedschooltogether,buthedecidedtogoforhismaster’sdegree.”
Ishuffleinmyseat,lookingeverywhereexceptatBo’sface.“Heaskedmetomoveinwithhim,andIsaidyes.Ourrelationshipupuntilthenwasmostlyfine.ButthereweredefinitelysomeredflagsIwaschoosingtoignore.Anyway…hewasgoingtobeastudentfulltimeagain,andsomeonehadtopaytherent.SoIgotanofficejobtogetusbyandsortofwastedthosetwoyearsaftergraduationpayinghisway.Stupidly,Ithoughtwewereateamandthatit’dbemyturntogoafterwhatIwantednextbut…well,youknow.Whenthingsended,Imovedbackhere,prettydesperatetogetawayfromitall.Ihadtostartfreshandcouldn’treallyaffordtodreambiggerthanthecaféandlifeguardinginthesummers.Thentimesortofmovedon…butIdidn’t,Iguess.”
“Hesoundslikeajerk,Win.I’msorry.”
“Longtimeagonow,”Isay,shrugging.
There’salingeringsilence.IresisttheurgetolookbacktowardhimasmuchasIcan,feelinghiseyesburningintome.Afterwhatfeelslikefartoolong,Idecidetogivein,mostlytosethimateasewithasmile.ButwhenIdoeventuallyturntowardhim,Idon’tsmile.Ican’t
NotwhenBo’slookingatmelikeheheardfarmorethanIwaswillingtosay.Likehe’sseeingeveryinvisiblescarI’vetriedtocoverup.
“Hewasn’tnicetoyou.”Hestatesitlikefact.Simple.Sad.True.
Ishakemyheadno.JustsubtleenoughthatapartofmecanpretendIdidn’tanswerhimatall
Bo’sjawworks,hiseyesfallingbrieflybeforeheshakeshishead.“I’msorry.”
Iinhaleashakybreath,bitingtheinsideofmycheek.“LikeIsaid,itwasalongtimeago.”
Henods,thenscratchesthesideofhisnosewithabentknuckle.
Changethesubject,everythinginsideofmeshouts.
“Did,uh,didyougotouniversity?”
Bolickshislips,nodding,hisusuallightnessmissing.“Yeah,WaterlooforAccountingandFinancialManagement.”
“Soundslikeaparty,”Itease.Herollshiseyesplayfully,thoughhissmileisstillabsent.Itseemshisthoughtsareheldelsewhere.Iwonder…ifmaybe…they’reheldonher.“DidyouhaveaJacktoo?”Iask.
Bobreathesintohishandashewipeshismouth.“HowmuchhasCalebtoldyou?”heasks,eyeingmelikehe’sgotmynumber.
Itsk,hissinginthroughmyteeth.“Busted,”Isayquietlythroughanervous,soundlesslaugh.“Calebhasn’tsaidmuch,though.”Nothinghelpful,atleast.“Idon’tthinkheandCoraareparticularlyclose.”
“Listen,thingswerecomplicatedwithCora.Idon’twanttoimplythat—”
“YoushouldprobablyknowthatSarahandIrefertoherasthespawnofSatan,”Iinterrupt.“FrequentlyandinfrontofCaleb.She’sbeennothingbutnastytoSarah.Soifyou’retryingtobediplomaticformysake,don’tbother.”
“Youshouldn’tcallherthat,”Bosaysgently,leaningforwardinhisseat,hishandsclaspedbetweenhisknees,wringing.“Imean…sorry.Youcancallherwhateveryouwant.Ijust…”Hisvoicetrailsoff.
Ifeelatwingeofguiltanduneasepullmylipsaskew.“Sorry,”Ioffersimply.Sohe’snotoverhisex,then.Thesuddenpangofsadnessthrummingaroundmychestisunexpected.It’snotjealousy,Idon’tthink.Oratleast,notentirely.It’smorecomplicatedthanthat.It’swonderingifduringoneofthemoremeaningfulsexualexperiencesofmylife,certainlythemostpleasurable,mypartnerwasthinkingofsomeoneelse.Wishingforsomeoneelse.IfIwasjust…there.Available.Overlywilling,throwingmyselfathimuntilhegavein.It’sthecrushingweightofquestioningwhetherhewishesIwasher.Themhavingababy.Themsharingahome.Itmakesmefeellikeatrespasser.Inferior.
“Ishouldn’thavecalledherthat.Weshouldn’tcallherthat.You’reright.”
IcantellBo’schoosinghiswordscarefullyashesetshisemptiedmugdownonthecoffeetable.“Itshouldn’tupsetme.Itwasn’texactlyagoodrelationship.She,uh,Cora…thingsbetweenuswerenotgreat.”
Thingsarealreadyawkward;Imayaswellgetsomeanswers.“Calebdidmentionthatyoutwowereengaged.”ThemomentIsayit,Bo’shandsarealloverhisface—anxiouslyrubbingathischinandcheeksandforehead.
“Yeah,”hesays,hisnosescrunchingup.“Technically,yes.”
“Technically?”Iaskwhenhelooksupatme.
“Okay.We’redoingthis,”hesays,underhisbreath.“Dayone,pullingoutthebigguns.”Helaughshalf-heartedly.
“I’msorry,”Isay,shakingmyself.“Wedon’thaveto…”
“Didyouwanttotakethatwalktothebeach?Together?Ialwaysfinditeasiertowalkandtalkaboutheaviershit,youknow?”
Idoknow.That’swhatIwenttoschoolfor,atsomelevel.
“Yeah,sure.”Inodandstandfromthecouch.“Givemeafewminutestochange.”
Alittlewhilelater,we’rebothdressedinwarmerlayersandhalfwaytothewater.We’vewalkedmostlyinsilencesofar,makingfleetingcommentsaboutcutedogsastheypassusbyorhowlovelytheweatherfeelsafteranotherwisemoodywinter.
Whenwearriveatthebeach,it’sempty.Thesandisnearertomudincolour,wetandpartiallycoveredwithhalf-frozenpuddlesinitsvalleys.Therockyshoreishiddenundersnowthat’salreadybegunmeltingundertoday’sgoldensun.Thelake’siceisthinenoughtoseethroughandcrackingallover.Theskyisahazybluewithsoft,wispyclouds,asifapainterdriedtheirbrushagainstthehorizon.
Aperfectlate-winterday.
Ahopeful,spring-is-closer-than-you-thinktypeofday.
Ifeelitallthawingmywearybones.Thesunshine,thebirdssinging,thebreezethatisn’tfrigidenoughtohurtmyskin.Asignofallthegoodtocomewhenwinterends.WhenIcanspendmydaysoutside,feelingmorelikemyself
Itisn’tuntilwestopattheshorelinethatBoseemstobegincollectinghisthoughtsonceagain.Thistime,Iwaitpatientlyforhimtooffermewhateverhewants.Ishouldn’thavepried,consideringthere’salotI’mnotquitereadytotellhimaboutmylastrelationship,soIwon’tagain.
Icollectafewstonesfromtheshoreandsilentlyofferthemtohimwithanopenpalm.Hetakesone,smilespolitely,andtossesit.Webothwatchasitskatesacrossapatchoficebeforeslidingintothewater.Ithrowonetoo.Itlandsdirectlyinapatchofthelakewithnoiceatall.Iwatchtheripplesformandfadetonothing.
“IgotdiagnosedafewmonthsafterCoraandIcalledthingsoffforthethirdtime,”Bosays,hisvoicewaywardbutstrong.“She,uh,sheandIwereondifferentwavelengthsformostoftherelationship.Wekept,Ikept,tryingtofighttheinevitablethatwejustdidn’twork.Westarteddatingattwenty-three,anditwassimplerwhenwewerejusttwopeoplefocusedonourcareerswhowereworkinginthesamefieldandtryingtogetahead.Buteventually,wewereleftconstantlytryingtofigureouthowweslottedintoeachother’slivesoutsideofwork,reconcilingthatweweren’taverygoodfit.”Helickshislips,lookingatthewaterwithafurrowedbrowandstoicconcentration.
“God,it’sprettyfuckingpathetictosayoutloud…butIthink,maybe,shejustneverlovedmeasmuchasIlovedher?”Hesaysitlikeaquestion,lookingdownatmeasifImighthavetheanswer.Idon’t.Can’t.
IthinkI’vemaybealreadysaidtoomuch,actually.ReducingCoratothiscaricaturevillaininsteadofsomeoneBosharedyearsofhislifewith.Despitehowshe’streatedSarahorme,Idon’tknowCoraallthatwell.Clearly,Bodoes.Andclearly,helovedher.
“Admittedly,therewerealotofreasonsIshouldn’thavecalledherthedayIfoundoutIwassick,but…Idid.Iwasreallyfuckingscaredand…lonely.I’dneverfeltsoalone.”Helaughswithouthumour,ahandsplayedalonghisjawashegrindshisbackteeth.
Ipickupafewmorestonesandofferonetohim.HegivesmeacurtnodbeforehetakesoneandtossesitsofarthatIhavetosquinttoseeitland.
“IhadfriendsIcould’vecalled,Iguess.ButIwasn’tsureifanyofthemwouldknowhowtohelp.Ineededcompany.Ineededtoughlove,whichCoraalwayshadinspades.”Ihandhimanotherstone,andhetossesit.Thistimeit’sashallower,weakerthrow.Heshoveshishandsdeepintohispockets,wideninghisstanceslightlyashischestfallsonalongbreath.
“Iwantedtocallmydad,butIwasworriedaboutburdeninghim.Helosthiswifedecadesbeforemydiagnosis,andhe’dstillneverreallymovedon.Ididn’thaveitinmetotellhimthathecouldbelosinghisonlysontoo.CorawastherewhenIdidn’tknowwhoelsetocall,andI’malwaysgoingtobegratefulsheshowedupforme.”
“I’mgladshewasthereforyoutoo,”Isaysoftly.AndImeanit.Thoughitcreatesanacheinmychest.Perhapsit’sguilt.Couldbejealousy.Or,moreaccurately,both.
“Amonthintotreatment,Corasortofannouncedtomethatwe’dbegettingmarried.Iknowitmakesmesoundlikeanidiot,butIkindajustwentalongwithit.Everythinginmylifefeltunstableanduntethered,andsuddenly,therewasthiswomanIlovetellingmeshewaschoosingtostickitoutwithme.Iwantedthatstability.”
Ifeelathrumofenergypassthroughmefromheadtotoe.Ithitsmychestwithagentlebutnoticeableblow.Love.InthepresenttenseBolovesCora.
“Butwhenthechemowasn’tworkingandthecancerwasprogressing,amputationbecametheonlyoption.And…theoddswerelookingbleakregardless.”Wenaturallyfallbackintowalkingatarelaxedpacetowardthepierwithasmalllighthouseandemptydockswherelocalskeeptheirboatsduringwarmermonths.
“Atthatpoint,Ithinkitgottobetoomuchforher.Shestoppedcomingtoappointments.Stoppedcomingoverentirely.Eventually,shestoppedansweringmycallstoo.Igotthemessagethatsheneededtostepawayfromitall,andwehaven’ttalkedsince.Notalotofclosure,Iknow.But…partofmefeelslikethat’sforthebest,honestly.ShewasthereformewhenIneededher,andIthinkshedidmeafavour…inthelongrun.”
“Idon’tthinkshedidyouafavourbyleavingyouwhenyouneededhermost.That’saprettycowardlythingtodo.Sheshould’veatleasttoldyoutoyourfacethatshecouldn’thandleit.Letyouhavethat…properend.”
Boshrugs.“She’dalreadyendedthingsbefore,though.Iwastheonewhotriedtofixiteverytime—whywekeptgettingbacktogether.Maybesheknewthatwashowithadtoplayout.ShehadtohurtmesoI’dlethergo.AndIdoubtmanypeoplewouldstickaroundwhentheworst-casescenarioseemedinevitable.”
Iwould,Ithink.ThenimmediatelyberatemyselfforplacingmyselfmorallyaboveCora,eveninsidemyownthoughts.Ultimately,Idon’tknowwhatI’ddointhatsituation.IdoubtI’dhavelefthim,though.Idon’treallyunderstandhowanyonecoulddosuchathing.Evenimaginingwhatthatwouldhavefeltlikehasmeneartears,hasmewantingtoreachoutforhishandortuckhimagainstmychestandbrushmyhandoverhishair.Protecthimfromit,shieldhim,asifIcouldchangethepast.
“Whendidyoutellyourdad?”Iask
“Aboutsixhoursbeforethesurgery…”hesays,thentrillshislips,lookingawayfrommesheepishly.
Igroan.“Yikes.”
“Yeah…notmybestwork.”
“Howdidhetakeit?”
“Um,notgreat,”Bosaysinahigherpitchthanusual,somehumourreturningtohisfeatures.“Herevertedtohisnativetonguetocallmeeverynameinthebook,thengotthefirstflightout.Hestayedwithmeforthreemonthsafterthesurgery.Icouldn’thavegonehomewithouthishelp.Idon’tknowwhatIwould’vedone,actually.”
“Hesoundslikeagreatdad,”IsayasBoreachesdownandpocketssomethingfromthesandyshore.“AndIknewhelivedinFrance,butIdidn’trealisehewasFrench.”
“Yeah,mymomwasfromhere,andDadisfromasmalltownoutsideofParis.TheymetplayinginthesameorchestrainTorontoandgotmarriedtendaysaftermeeting.”
“You’rekidding.”Isnort.
“Nope,justtendaysatnineteenyearsold.Theydidn’thavemeuntiltenyearslater.”
“That’s…that’swild,”Isay.
“Mydadsaysthemomenthesawmymom,hejustknew.Hetookonelookatherandwatchedtherestofhislifeplayout.”Bostops,asweet,longinglookinhiseyeashesmilessoftlyatme.Iimaginehe’sprobablythinkingofCoraandwhatcouldhavebeen.
“Youmustmissher,”Isay,meaninghismother—butthepossibilitythatitcouldhavemeanteitherCoraorhismotherisn’tlostonme.Sometimesthepeoplewhohauntusarestillalive.Iunderstandthattoo.
“Yeah,”Boagrees,turningbacktowardthepath.“ButIwasreallyyoungwhenshepassed.”
“I’msorry,”Ioffer,matchinghispace.“Doyouremembermuchofher?”
“No,”hesaysplainly.“ButDadhadalotofstoriesandphotos.Hekepteverythingofhers—likehervinylcollection.Mostoftherecordsatthehousewerehers.”Hestops,puttinganarmouttoblockmynextstep.
Ilooktowardthepathahead,expectingaskunkorsomethingmorenefarioustoappearoutofthebushes.Butnothingdoes.
“Didyouhearthat?”heasksmeurgently,hisvoicelow.Hespins,lookingaroundusfrantically.
“No?”Iwhisper-yell,leaningawayfromhisflounderinglimbs.“What—”
“Shit,whereisit?”
“What?”Iask,louder.
“Iheardagoose.”
Istopabruptly,myshoesscrapingagainstthestone-coveredpath.Istareupathimindisbelief,mylipspartingintoagrinthatIhavetostiflebeforeitbecomesalaugh.“We’reatabeachinCanada,Bo.You’regonnaheargeese,”Isay,continuingtowhisperforwhateverabsurdreason.
“Theyhateme.”Boturnshisheadtowardasoundoverthewatertoourleft,hisshouldersuptohisears.
“Theyhateyou…”
“Theygoformylegeverytime.Idon’tknowifit’sbecauseit’sshinyandtheylikethat,orifgeesearejustlittleableistfucks,butthey’realwaystryingtoattackme.”
Itrytoholdthelaughin.Ireallydo.ButIfail.Miserably.Iburst.“Sorry,what?”
Bobendstopickuparockthesizeofhispalmandwaitstostrike.
“Youcannotusethat,”Isay,takingtherockfromhimandchuckingitaside.Ourfingersbrushbriefly,thoughbythewaymyheartthuds,you’dthinktheguyhadpinnedmetothenearesttreeandrippedoffmytights.Fuckinghormones.“Nogeesemurdertoday,myguy.I’mprettysureit’sCanada’smostsacredlaw,andI’mnotbringingthebabytovisityouinprison.”
Hehushesme,turningbacktowardthewaterandtheninafullcircle,likeabodyguardonwatch.
Ilaughathim,harderthistime.
“Stop!”hewhines,hisownlaughterbreakingfree.“It’snotfunny!”
Ishakemyhead,forgingbacktowardBo’shouse.“C’mon,”Icall,afewpacesaheadofhim.“I’llprotectyoufromanypossiblegeeseassailants.”
“Iwillthrowyoutothem,”hesays.“Ifitcomestoit.”
“Onlyifyoucancatchmefirst.”CHAPTER17
Whenwegothomefromourbeachwalk,BotookacallinhisroomwhileIgotreadytogoout.HewasstillonthephonewhenIleftwithSarah,onamissiontogetnewartformyroomandsomelunch.Andofcourse,becauseit’sthrifting,IfoundwhatIwaslookingforandmanythingsIhadn’tknownIneeded.
Includingaverycuterainbowstackingpuzzleforthebabyandafewbitsandpiecesforthelivingroom’smantel.Someframedwatercolourart,afewpotterycandleholders,someprettycandlesforthoseholders,andonesmallturquoiseshellframethatperfectlyfitsourultrasoundphoto.That,Iputfrontandcentreabovethevacantfireplace.
Bodidn’tseemtomindthenewadditions.WhenIplacedthefinalitemandsteppedbacktoadmirethemantel,Iturnedtofindhimstandingbehindme.Hewasleaneduponthewall,asheseemstobeoften,andsmilingfondly.Notatme,butatthatlittlephotoinitsnewspot.
Ifigureditwouldbegoodtohavethephotooutsomewhere.Areminderofwhywe’redoingthis.
Afterward,ItookthepileofcomicbooksBohadleftoutformetomyroomandreadforafewhours.Andnow,I’maboutsixcomicbooksdeepoutofeight,andmystomachhasinformedmethatitistimefordinner.Thus,beganmyspiral.
Sure,dinnersoundssimpleenough,butitisfarfromit.Thisisourfirstdinnerunderthesameroof,anditseemstomethatwe’dbesettingsomesortofprecedentwithhowtonightplaysout.IhavenoideawhatBodoesformeals.I’veonlyeverseentheguyeatbakedgoods,crackers,orchips.
Doesheonlyeatbeigeandbrownfood?Isheoffendedbyvegetables?Doeshelikespicyfood?Whatallergiesdoeshehave?WillIaccidentallykillhimifIuseeggs,soy,nuts,orshellfish?
Andisitpresumptuoustocookforusboth?Orwoulditberudetojustcookformyself?Whendoeshenormallyeatdinner?Isitalreadytoolate?Tooearly?Ihaven’tleftmyroomsincefour,sothereisthepossibilitythathe’salreadyeatenbynow.ThoughIdon’tsmellanythingwaftingfromthekitchen,andmysenseofsmellsincegettingpregnantisnojoke.I’mlikeabloodhoundthesedays.Peoplecouldusemetosolvecrimes.Decadeoldunsolvedcoldcases.
IfBodideatwithoutme,wouldIbeoffended?Idon’tmindifwedoourownthing,butweshouldprobablyestablishwhatourroutinewillbe,right?
Then,there’salsothematterofhowwegetthefoodpriortocooking.Dowegroceryshoptogether?Separately?What’smosteconomical?WilloursystemchangewhenI’monparentalleaveandmyincomeisslashedinhalf?
“Win?”Bocallsthroughmydoor,knockingtwiceinquicksuccession.
“Hmm?Yeah?”Isay,tryingtopresentmyselfascalm.It’sunconvincing.
“Areyouhungry?Imadesoup,”hereplies,openingthedooracrackandtakingastepinside.
Ipullmyhairoffmyneckandswallow,feelingahotflushacrossmychestandneck.Thisisalltoomuch.There’stoomuchwehaven’tdiscussed.ExpectationsIdon’tknowaboutandwillinevitablyfail.JackhatedwhenIdidn’thavedinnerreadywhenhegothome.Hewasstrangelikethat…performinglong-windedmonologuesabouthowsocietywassettoworkagainstwomenwhilecontinuouslymakingmefeellikeIhadtofulfilcertainrolesandexpectationsinourhome.EverythingaboutJackwassomesortofperformance.
Isthatwhatthisis?Bomakingsoup?Isthissomesortof…act?
“Youokay?”Boasks,hiseyesbouncingaroundmyface,hishandtightaroundthetopofmydoor.
Ireleasemylipfrombetweenmyteethasmykneebeginsbouncing.“Doyouhaveanyallergies?”Iask.
“No.”Bowalksfartherintotheroom,presseshisshoulderagainstthewallnexttomydresser,andcrosseshisarms.“Whataboutyou?”
“No.Doyounormallycookororderin?Whattimedoyoueat?Aboutnow?”
“Iliketocook,butI’mnotanysortofchef.InormallyeataroundsixsinceIfinishworkatfive.Areyouokay?Youseemalittle—”
“IfeellikeI’munravelling,maybe…atinybit.Iappreciateyoucooking,obviously,butIjustdon’tknowwhattheexpectationsaremovingforward.Iguessit’sbeenawhilesinceIlivedwithsomeone…”
Bonodsthoughtfully,hiseyesholdingonthelamponthebedsidetable.“ThisseemslikethesamespiralIwashavingaboutanhourago.”Hepointstothebed,andInod,shufflingoversohecansitnexttome.“Idon’twanttooverstep,”Bosays,restinghiselbowsonhiskneesandclaspinghishandsbetweenhisopenlegs.“Ifyouwanttosharethisspacelikeroommates—buyourownfood,cookforourselves,sharesomebasicnecessities,splitcostsdownthemiddle—that’scoolwithme.ButIthinkadifferentarrangementwouldmakemoresense.”
“Different?”Iask.
“Lessseparate,Iguess.IthinkIworkedoutasolutionforthebillsandmoneysideofthings.Asfarasthehouseholdchoresgo,cookingorwhateverelse,Ithinkweshouldtaketurns.”
“So,like,everyothernight,I’llcookdinner?”
“Butsometimesyoucloseatthecafé,right?Sowhydon’tIcook,sincemyschedulestaysthesame?”
“ThenwhatdoIdo?”
“Cleanupafterdinner?”
“Andwhatabouttherestofthehouse?Doyoukeepthingssuperclean?DoyouhavesomesortofroutineIshouldknowabout?AtaskyouhatethatIcoulddo?”
“Aftermysurgery,Ihiredacompanytosendsomeonetocleanonceaweek,soit’smorejustthatwehavetotidyupafterourselves.”
Iaddthattothelistofexpensesandwonderhowmuchthishome,Bo’slifestyle,coststomaintain.Doesheshopatthetypeofgrocerystoreswithbutchercountersandorganicproduceorthekindwhereyoucanbuylawnfurniturealongsideyourmilk?Thatmaybeadeterminingfactorinhowweproceed.CanIevenaffordhalfofhislife?
“Sowhataboutmoney?Splittingeverythinginhalfseemsrighttome,butIdon’tknowwhatyourbillsare”
“Mysuggestionisabitmorecomplicatedthanthat.”
Iraiseabrow,waitingforhimtocontinue.
Borisesoffthebedslightly,takinghisphoneoutofhisbackpocket.“Iknowyousaidyouwantedtopayhalf,andIdon’twanttodismissthat,butIthinkthissolutionissomethingwecanbothagreeon.”Heholdsouthisphonebetweenus,showingmeapiechartwithalistofnumbersbelowitthatmeanabsolutelynothingtome.
IstareatitforafewlongsecondsbeforeIgiveup.“WhatamIlookingathere?”
Hemovescloser,ourthighstouching,asheenthusiasticallyshowsmearoundthescreen.“Okay,thisisourtotalyearlyhouseholdincome.”Hecirclestheentirepiechartwithhisfinger.“AndthisisthepercentageofthatincomethatImake.”Hepointstothemuchlargerportionofthechart,colouredpurple.Hiskneenudgesmine,andIhavetoresettofocusonwhathe’ssaying.I’mgladmymathteachersweren’tasdistractinglyhandsomeasBo.I’dhavenevergottenmydiploma.
“Thissystemsplitseverythingproportionally.Iputinourexpectedmonthlyexpenses,includingtwoadditionalsavingsaccountsI’vesetupthatwe’llbothcontributeto.Oneisforhousingandmovingcostsyouhaveinthefuture,whateveryoudecidetodo.Thesecondisforthebaby—furniture,diapers,clothes,whateverelse.Ithenmultipliedthetotalofourexpensesbyeachofourpercentagestoseehowmucheachofusshouldcontributeoverall.”
Inod,lookingatthescreenwhenIspotmynamebelowthechart,highlightedingreen.“Sothisnumber,sixhundredandseventy-four,that’smine?”
“Yeah,”Boanswers.
“That’swaytoolowforhousing,food,bills,andeverythingelse.There’snoway.”
“Thepercentagesdonotlie.”
“Youobviouslyfudgedthenumbers!”
Bolaughssoftly.“IswearIdidn’t.Icangooverthemathwithyou,buttheonlyexpensesIleftoffweremycar’scosts—becauseIwasn’tsureifyou’dwanttouseitornot.ButIcouldtotalthatintooifyouwantto.”
“WhatdoIdowithalltheextramoneyImakefromthecafé?Ishoulddefinitelycontributemore,givenhowmuchI’llhaveleftover.”
“Well,Ididn’tincludeyourphonebill.Plusspendingmoney,Iguess.Anothersavingsaccount.Investsomeifyou’dlike.”Heshrugs,asiftoshowhiscompleteindifference.“Andwhenyou’reonparentalleave,we’llreadjustthepercentagesofourincomesoit’sallstillfair.”
Isnatchthephonefromhim,scrollinguntilIseehisnumberbelowmine.“Robert!Threethousand,ninehundredandninety-two?”Isigh,glaringathim.“Thisisnotevenclosetoeven.”
Bo’seyebrowsshootup,wideninghiseyes.“Robert?”heasks,smirking.“I’mRobertnow?”
“Well,Boseemsratherinformal,consideringyou’renowmysugardaddyapparently!”Isay,exasperated.
Borollshiseyes.
“I’mserious.Iwantthistofeelfair.”I’vebeentakenadvantageofbefore.Iknowhowitfeels.Howquicklyyoucanbegintoresentsomeoneforeverythingtheydon’tdo.
“It’sexactlyfair,Fred.Thesenumbersareproportional.It’sequity,notequality.Trustme.Ifitwassolelyuptome,yournumberwouldbealotlower.Zero.Yourincomeisabout15percentofthehousehold’stotal,right?Theexpensesofhavingyoulivehereonlyrosebyanadditionalsixhundredandthirtydollars,whichyourportioniscovering.Nowthatdoesn’tseemfair,consideringyou’realsogrowingmykid.Thisismecompromising.”
Iwhine,lookingatthevastdifferencebetweenourtwonumbers.Ionlymake15percentofthehousehold’sincome.I’mnotgreatatmath,evidently,butthatmustputBo’sincomesomewhereaboveonehundredthousandayear.Ididn’texpectthattofeelquitesomortifying.HowlittleIhavetooffer.
“Bo,areyousure?Absolutelysure?Thisfeelsliketoomuch.”
“Yes,”henodsdesperately.“Entirely,definitely,absolutely,andwhateverotheradverbyou’dlike,sure.”Hissimpleboyishgrinlevelsmesome.Thewayhetiltshisheadtocatchmyeyes,thewayhenodsasifhe’stryingtogetmetodothesame.Thewaythisallseemsso…unimportanttohim.Asifhetrulycouldnotcareless.
“I’mamooch,”Isay,sighingasweholdeyecontact,ourfacesascloseasourshoulders’widthsandheightdifferenceallowustobe.
“You’renotamooch.You’reanasset.”Hebumpshisshoulderagainstmine,wranglingasmileoutofme.
“Anasset?”Iask,blinkingupathim.
“Ofcourse.You’vedefinitelyuppedthehouse’svaluebyaddingdecorandgivingthisboringroomamakeover.Nottomentionyou’reincreasingthenumberofhouseholdmembersby50percent.Plus,you’regoodformorale,”heteaseswithawink.
“Morale,huh?”
“Yes.Yourcontributiontothevibeisworthatleastafewhundredbucks.”
“Right.”Isigh,wrappingahandaroundmygrumblingstomach.Bo’seyesfollowmyhand’spathandholdthere,eyeingmybellywithwarmaffection.
“Look,Iknowwedon’treallyknoweachotherthatwellyet,andyoudon’thavereasontotrustmewiththis,butIpromise—thisisfair.Icangooveritwithyousomemore,onmycomputermaybe,butregardless,thisisasmuchmoneyfromyouasI’mcomfortableaccepting.I’mverygoodatmyjobandtypicallyhonourable,butIdidconsiderfudgingthenumberswhenIsawyouramount.I’dliketomakethingsaseasyasIcanforyou,Win.IfIhaditmyway,you’dquityourjob,putyourfeetup,andrelaxforthenextfewmonths.”
“Youwantakeptwoman,”Itease.
“Icertainlywanttokeepyou.”Heblanchesassoonasthewordsleavehismouth.“Imean,Iwanttokeepyouhappy.Hereandhappyand—”
“Okay,”Iinterrupt.“Fine.Iagreewithyourarrangement,butifanythingchanges…ifatanypointyoustartresentingmeor—”
“That’simpossible.”
“Allright,but…if.”
Hisshouldersfallonalongexhale.“Thankyou.”
“Idon’tknowwhyyou’rethankingme.I’mrichnow.Ihaveanicemachineandanextrathousandbucksamonthtoplaywith.”
Helaughs,hisfacepointedupattheceiling.“Okay,bigspender,nowthatwegotthatsorted…soup?”Hestands,offeringmehishandtofollow.
Iplacemysmallerhandinhisanddon’tmisshowhiseyescreaseoneithersidewhenhewrapshisfullhandaroundit,coveringitcompletely.
Notachef,myass.WhenI’mdonewithmythirdhelpingofBo’sbutternutsquashsoup—thathemadefromscratch,Imightadd—Ibegincleaningup.
Iknowitsoundsridiculous,becausethereisadishwasher,butIdecidedtodothedishesbyhand.Ithinkpartofmefeelslikeit’sonlyrighttodoittheold-fashionedway,consideringBojustmadesouplikeapioneerwoman.
Halfwaythroughwashingourdishes,ascratchyguitarsolostartsplayingintheadjoiningroom,themusicslowlybeingturnedup.
“Thisokay?”Bosays,poppinghisheadaroundthecorner.
“Yeah!”Ishoutoverthemusic,noddingalong.“Whoisthis?”
“Rush—theywereoneofmymom’sfavouritebands.”
“Yourmomhadgoodtaste,”Isay,smilingovermyshoulderasIscrubmysoupbowlclean.
Bo’seyesholdonmyhandswithoneraised,quizzicalbrow,buthedoesn’tsayanything.AndIappreciatethat.Idespisebeingmicromanaged.EvenifwhatI’mdoingisnonsensical.LittledosesofcontrolarewhatIneedrightnow.
Iputthebowlontothedryingrackandgrabaglassfromthecounter.IsmiletomyselfasIshovemylittlehandintothewaterglasswithasponge.It’sbasicallythebestfeatureofhavinganunderdevelopedhand.Ifithadaninfomercial,it’dsayIhaveabuilt-inscrubbingbrush.Or,ifIwasatoy,itwouldsayI’mkarate-chopreadyatalltimes.
“Whenyou’refinishedup,IthoughtmaybewecoulddooneofthosequestioncardsSarahgotus,”Bosays,scratchingthebackofhisneck.“Youknow,ifyou’renottootired.”
“Sure!”Ichime,smilingovermyshoulder.
We’rekillingthis,Ithinktomyself.Dayone,andwe’vealreadycommunicatedtheshitoutofourarrangement,openedupaboutourexes,andestablishedaroutine.Ican’thelpbutsmileasIkeepcleaning,hummingalongtothemusicuntilI’mfinishedup.
Dryingoffmyhands,Itakeaquickdetourtomyroomtothrowonsomesweatpants.Mybodyhasn’tchangedallthatmuchsofar,butIcertainlynoticehowtightmyjeanshavestartedtofeelintheevenings.
Oncecosy,IfindBointhelivingroom,sittingpensivelywithasudokupuzzlebookinhand.Theturntablepauseditselfoncetheneedlereachedtheendoftherecord,leavingnothingbutaquietelectricalhumofthespeakers.
“Didyouwantmetoturntherecordover?”Iask,approachingtheendofthecouch.
“Oh,hey,sorry.”Bogentlytosseshisbookandpencilontothecoffeetable.“Didn’thearyoucomein…andno,that’sokay.”
“Youdon’thavetostoponmyaccount,”Isay,sittingontheoppositeendofthecouchfromhim.
“Ialreadydidone.Iwasjustkillingtime.”
“I’msofullofsoup,Icoulddiehappy.”
“How’veyoubeenfeelingthelastfewdays?”
“Beforemovingday,alotbetter.Ithinkthetripsupanddownstairsdidmein,butI’vebeenfeelinggreatsincetoo.Nonausea.”
“Maybeit’sonitswayout.That’swhatthedoctorsaid,right?Secondtrimester,itmightjustgoaway?”Borelaxesintothecouch,hisarmsspreadoneithersideofhimalongtheback.Iturnsidewaystofacehim,tuckingmyfeetunderme.
“Hopefully.”Ilookathimexpectantly,spottingthecardsbehindhim.“Shallwe?”Iask.
Boreachesforthearmofthecushion,wheretheunwrappedwhiteboxoftwentyquestionssits.Openingthebox,hepullsouttheinstructionsandreadsthemover.“There’sasuggestedorder.Dowecare?”
“Nah,chaosmode.Shuffleanddeal.”
Hesmirks,noddingashebeginsshufflingthecards.
AndIknowit’sridiculous.ButthewayBoshufflesisverysexy.Hismassivehandsdwarfthecards,theeasewithwhichhetrillsthecardswithhisthumb,slidingthemtogether.Maybestrippokercouldbefun.
No…no,Win.
“Allright,”hesays,liftingacardfromthetopofthepile.“Ready?”
“AsI’lleverbe,”Isay,tuggingmyshirtawayfrommyneckbeforeclaspingmyhandsinmylap.
“Wouldyouliketobefamous?Ifso,inwhatway?”Boreads.“I’llgo?”heasks.
“Sure.”
“Iwouldn’twanttobefamous.Idon’tholdalotofweighttomyopinions,andIthinkthesedays,famouspeopleareexpectedtohaveastanceoneverything.Twentyyearsago,celebritieswerejustcelebrities.Now,they’revisitingtheUnitedNationsandtalkingaboutnatureconservationasiftherearen’tmorequalifiedpeopletodothat.”
“Butaren’ttheyjustusingtheirplatformandpositiontohelp?Theyhavethepublic’sattention.Whynotuseit?”
“Well,there’snothingwrongwithtryingtohelp…andIgetthattheyholdalotofpublicinfluence,sotheyprobablyshould.Ijustdon’tthinkI’dwantthatsortofattentiononme.I’dratherjustbemega-richbutnotfamoussoIcouldgivemymoneytotheproperchannels.Topeoplewhoknowhowtouseitforthemostgood.I’dliketostaybehindthecurtain.”
Inodslowly,myeyesfixedonmylapasIreconsidermyanswer.
“Unless…”Bosays,draggingmyattentionbacktohisface.“IcouldbeAndySerkis.”
“WhoonearthisAndySerkis?”
“Exactly,”Bosays,grintilted.“He’sanactormostlyknownforperformancecapturerolesforcomputergeneratedfilms.HewasGolluminLordoftheRingsandSnokeinStarWars.Andhe’sbeeninabunchofMarvelmoviesaswell.Hehasallofthesedreamroles,butIbethecangoforawalkwithhisfamilyandnotbedisturbedbecausenoonereallyknowswhathelookslike.”
“They’dhavetodragyouoffthosesets,”Isay.
“I’dstillbethere.I’dliveinthewalls.OrI’dhavestoleneverythingthatwasn’tnaileddown.”
“Ohwow.Imaginethestateofyourbedroomwithallthosecollectibles.”
“See?Itcouldbeworse.”Boexhalesgently,hissmileholding.“Whataboutyou?”
“IthinkI’dliketobefamousbutlikemoreofthecreative,lesser-knownsideofthings.LikeadirectororascreenwriterorsomethingwhereIgettogotoalltheeventsandmeetcoolpeoplebutmostlygettofocusontheworkandnotthepublicityofbeingfamous.Likeyousaid—it’swaytoomuchpublicperception.”
“Icouldseeyoubeingadirector,”Bosays.
“Yeah?Howso?”
“Youhaveanairofauthorityaboutyou.”
Isnort.“Me?”
“Yeah,you,”Bosays,narrowinghiseyesplayfully.“You’resteady…likeyouhaveacalmunderpressurewayaboutyouthatIadmire.”
“Calm…”Isayincredulously.“Me?Didyouhappentomissmyspiralaboutdinnerafewhoursago?”
“Butthat’sthething.Youcommunicateditallandwegotonthesamepage.Nowwe’reabetterteam.That’swhatagooddirectordoes.”
“Oh,andyou’dknowthat.Fromallyourexperienceonset.”
“Exactly.”
“That’sit,then?”Isay,lookingoveratthedeckasBotucksitawayinsidethebox.“Wefinishedthefirstquestion?”
“Yep.”Heplacesthecardsdownonthecoffeetable.“Guessinnineteenmorequestions,we’llbeinlove.”Hewaggleshiseyebrowssuggestivelybeforecheckinghiswatch.“Wanttowatchamovieorsomething?”heasks.“Icouldgrabmylaptop.”
“Sure,”Isay.“YoucanintroducemetothisAndyfella.”
“Well,whichoneofhismovieshaven’tyouseen?”
Istarebackathimblankly.
“Whichonehaven’tyouseen,Win?”Boasks,concerned.Iscrunchmyface,lookingupattheceiling.“Have…haveyounotseenLordoftheRings?”heasks,hisvoiceslowandnearcracking.
Ishakemyhead,asmallwhisperofalaughescapingmewhenhisfacequicklyswitchesfrompurehorrortoshocktoamusement.Bocheckshiswatch,thenlooksbackatme,thenthecoffeetable,asifhe’scalculatingsomething.Thenhelooksbacktohiswatchagain.It’sstrangelyendearinghowmuchthisinformationhasrockedhim.
“Okay,ifwestartnow,wecanmakeitthroughtheextendededitionofFellowshipoftheRingbeforemidnight.”
“Midnight?”Iaskwearily.“Howlongisit?”
“It’sprobablybetterthatyoudon’tknow.”Hestandsabruptly,movestocirclethecouch,thenstills.“IcannotbelieveI’mhavingababywithaLordoftheRingsvirgin.”hesays,nearwhispering.“Thisisamazing…”Hetakesoffjoggingtowardhisbedroom.
“Iswearyouwerelessexcitedtohavesexwithmethanyouarerightnow!”Icallafterhim.
“Honestly?Maybe!”heshoutsbackfromdownthehall.
ImadeittwohoursintothemoviebeforeIrestedmyheadonBo’sshoulderanddriftedtosleep.CHAPTER18
SixteenWeeksPregnant.Babyisthesizeofanavocado.
Thispastweek,BoandIhavefallenintoafamiliarpattern.I’vehadmorningshiftsallweek,soIgetupearly,brewapotofcoffeesoBohassomewhenhewakesup,andheadofftowork.IgoforaswimatthegymafterworkandarrivehomejustasBo’sstartingtopreparedinner.Weeattogetheronthecouchandtelleachotheraboutourdays—notthatIcouldexplaintoyouindetailwhatBodoesforaliving.Heusuallylosesmeoncetheworddataisthrownaround.
Still,Ifindthathe’ssoexcitedtotellmeeverypartofhisdaythatifInodenthusiasticallyandsmilealong,itdoesn’tmatterifItrulyunderstand.AndIdolikethewayhisfacelightsupwhenhetalksaboutwork.ItinspiresmetothinkofwhatI’dliketodoafterthebaby.Acampmightbetheverybigfuturedream,butmaybethere’sastepbetweenthatmightfulfilmemore.
Afterdinner,Icleanup,soundtrackedbywhicheverrecordBoselectsfromhismom’scollection.Yesterdaywelistenedto“TheBestofEttaJames”andthenightbeforewasU2’s“JoshuaTree.”Joanna,likeherson,wasawomanofeclectictaste.I’vespentalotoftimethinkingaboutBo’smomwhilelisteninganddoingthedishes,actually.
Iwonderwhethershesomehowknowsaboutthebaby,likeI’mhopingMarciedoes.Iliketothinkthatthey’rebothinheaven,theether,theafterlife—whateveryouwanttocallit—proudlywatchingusfumbleourwayintoparenthood.
Then,onceI’mdonewithmydaydreamingandtidying-up,wepullaquestionfromthedeck.ThequestionsareagreattooltotakelittlepeeksattheinsideworkingsofBo’sbrilliant,albeitstrange,mind.WhatIfindmostinteresting,sofar,isthatBoseemstobesomeonewho’sentirelyindifferentorextremelyopinionatedandrarelyinbetween.
Youbringforty-sixhouseplantsintotheguy’shome,andhebarelybatsaneye.Butyoudefendorangejuicewithpulpinit,andhe’sreadytogotowar
Yesterday’squestion—whatisyourmostcontroversialtake?—turnedanormallyagreeableBoargumentativeinmereminutesIwasmostlyjokingwhenIsuggestedthatjuicewithpulpwassuperiorifnotequaltojuicewithout.Iwasnotexpectingtheguytoflyoffthehandle,but,oh,wasitentertainingtowatch.
Igenuinelylovedwatchinghimwildlypushhishairoutofhisfaceandrepeatedlyfixhisglassesashepacedtheroom.Hewasnearhysterical,rantingabouthowdisgustingpulpisandhow,andIquote,anyself-respectinghumanwouldn’tsubjectthemselvestobitsintheirjuice.
Hiscontroversialtakewasthatmovietheatrepopcornisoverratedanddoesn’ttasteallthatdifferentfromthemicrowavablekindwhenyouconsidercosts.
Webarelysurvivedourfirstfight.
Butasexcitingasournewroutinehasbeen,it’sonholdtonight.Bohasfriendscomingover,andI’veyettodecideifI’llmakeanappearanceorhideawayinmyroomallevening.
Hecheckedthathavingthemherewasfinewithmeatleastadozentimes,andIassuredhimrepeatedlythatitwas.Still,I’mnervoustomeetthem.IfIshouldmeetthem.Maybeitwouldbebesttojustletthemhavetheirnightandnotgetintheway.Butequally,itcouldberudetoavoidthem.Howdoesoneintroduceoneselfinthisparticularscenario?
Hi!I’mWin.I’mpregnantwithyourfriend’sbaby.Hetookpityonme,andnowI’malsohisroommate.Yes,we’veseeneachothernaked.Andno,Ihaven’tquitedecidedwhetherIwanttoagainorifthatcouldmesseverythingup.Butalso,it’shardtoknowwhattodobecausethesefuckinghormonesaremakingmesohornythatIhavetorechargemyvibratoreverynight,andhesometimeswearsglassesthatmakemefeellikeIcouldchewrocksandspitoutdiamonds.Also,doyouhappentoknow,ishestillinlovewithhisex?Doeshetalkabouther?I’mnotgettingagoodreadonthatwholesituation,andI’mnotsurehowtobringitup.Anyway,hopeyouguyshaveafunnight!
Thatcouldprobablyusesomeedits.
They’recomingovertoplayboardgames.Oragame,rather.Bomutteredthetitleunderhisbreathwhilebusyinghimselfaroundthekitchen.HisboyishsmirktoldmehewasintentionallyevasiveeachtimeIasked,soIgaveuptryinganddecidedtohideoutinmyroom.
Itwasratheradorablewatchinghimfretaboutpreparingthehouseforhisfriends’arrival.Thebowlsofsnacksonthecounter,thefoldabletablethathe’splacedinthemiddleofthediningroom,theblacktableclothovertopthathefixedseveraltimes.
ThemoreIgettoseeBoinhisnaturalhabitat,themoreIrealisethathecaresalotaboutotherpeople’scomfort.
Andit’snotonlyinbigways,likepreparinghishomeforguests.It’sthewayhespeakswithhisclientsonthephone.Hemeetseveryconcerntheyhavewithgentleassuredness,patience,andconfidence.Neverwithanairofarroganceorsuperioritybecausehe’sgotaskillsetnotmanypeoplehave.Hetrulywantsthebestforthem.
Then,there’sallhedoesforme.Likeknockingonmydooreverynightbeforebedwithafreshglassoficewaterandanewcomicbooktoread.OrthegiantbodypillowIfoundinmyroomafterworkyesterdaywithanotethatsaidfortheworld’sbestbabymama.
WhenIaskedhimaboutit,hesaidhisfather-to-bebooksaidthatataroundthisstageofpregnancy,I’dstarthavingtroublesleeping.Thetruthis,sincebeinghere,I’vebeensleepinglikethedeadeverynight.Still,itwasaverysweetgesture.
Boisclearlythetypeofguywhotakespeopleunderhiswing.Anaturalcaretakertype.Itmakesmegladtoknowthatmykidwillhaveadadwhogoesaboveandbeyondforthepeoplehecaresabout.
“Win?”Bosaysfromtheothersideofmydoorwithasoftknock.
“Yep?”Ireply,droppingmycrochethookontothebedbesideme.
Boslowlyopensthedoor,stepsinside,andclosesitbehindhim.Helookslikehe’sabouttoaskmesomethingwhenhisattentionfallstothebednexttome.“Wait.Doyouknit?”
“Crochet,”Ianswer.
“What?”Heelongatesthewordtoseveralsyllables.“That’ssocool…Ididn’tknowthat!”
“I’mfairlycertaincrochetingisn’tconsideredacoolhobbybymost,”Ireplydryly.
“Whatareyoumaking?”heasks,ignoringme.
“Oh,well,IthoughtI’dmakeababyblanket.I’mdoingalineofstitchingeveryweekofthepregnancy.IcaughtupwiththeweekswhenIdidn’tknowaboutthebabywiththisnicemauvecolour,”Isay,holdingupwhatIhavesofar.“Then,afterthat,I’mgoingtoaddacolourthatsortofrepresentstheweekI’vehad.”
Bonods,studyingtheblanketasIdropitbacktothebed.“Whatwasthisweek’scolour?”
“Ichosegrey,”Ianswer.
Hisfacefalls.
“Anicegrey,”Iassurehim.“Greylikethestoneswethrewatthebeach.IthoughtI’drememberourfirstdaylivingtogetherthatway.”
Boinhales,hisshoulderrisingbacktoanormalposture.“That’sgoingtobeaverybigblanket.”
“Yeah,”Ihuff.“Ishouldprobablydooneofthosenormalpregnancybooksthatotherpeopledoinstead,”Isaywithashrugofmyshoulders.
“No,theblanketismoreoriginal.Icoulddothetypicalbabybookthing.Ifyou’dlike?”
“Yeah,maybe.”Ismileupathim.“Did,uh,didyouneedsomething?”
“Oh,right.”Helaughsjustonce,rubbinghisforehead,hisotherhandproppedonhiship.“Yeah,actually.Theguysareallhere,andwehaven’tstartedyet,butIthoughtmaybe…MaybeIcouldintroduceyou?It’sokayifyou’renotupforit.Ijustknowthey’dalllovetoputafacetothename.”
Hetalksaboutyou!Ofcoursehedoes—you’rehavinghisbabyandlivinginhishouse.
“Sure,yeah,”Isay,standing.
Boleadsusoutintothehall.We’rehalfwaythroughthekitchenwhenheturnsaround,bendsdown,andwhispers,“And…trytogoeasyonhim.”
“Easyon—”Istop,lookingatthemakeshifttablesetupinthediningroom,themenarounditI’veyettomeet,and,mostshockingly,onefamiliarface.“Caleb?”
Caleb,lookingguiltyasallhellandshrunkendowntoabouttwofeettall,hasthenervetowaveatme.“Hey,Win,”hesays,hisvoicedejected.
“Uh,hey?What…whatareyoudoinghere?”
Caleblooksaroundthetable,toBo,thenbacktomebeforejumpingoutofhisseat.“Excuseus,gentlemen.”Hechargestowardme,grabbingholdofmyelbowandusingittopullmebackdownthehall.
“Listen,Win,I—”
“Caleb.”Ichokeouthisnamethroughabuddinglaugh.“Whatare—”
“Iwilltellyoueverything,butyouneedtopromisemefirstthatyouwillnottellmywife.”
Icrossmyfingersbehindmybackandnodtwice.Puh-lease,asifI’deverpromisesuchathing.
“I’msoseriousrightnow.Wehavebeenfriendsforfifteenyears,WinnifredMcNulty.Ihaveneveraskedyouforanything,butIamnow.Please,god,please,donottellmywifeIplayDungeonsandDragons.Shewillneverdropit.Iwillberidiculeduntilmydyingday.”
“Caleb!”Ishovehisshoulderwithmysmallhand.“WheredoesSarahthinkyouarerightnow?”
“Thegym.”
“Ohmygod!Thelying!Thedeceit!”Igasp.“Didyoupretendyou’dneverbeentoBo’shousebeforewhenImovedin?”Iaskinabreathywhisper-yell.“Whatelsehaveyouliedabout?”
“Itechnicallydidn’tsayIhadn’tbeenherebefore.Thisistheonlylie,Iswear.Ijustwantthisonething.Letmehavepeace,Win.”
“Caleb,”Iscoff.“Doyouseriouslyexpectmetolietomybestfriendaboutherhusband’swhereabouts?”
“Notlie.Just…omitthetruth.”
“Caleb!”
“Look,Iknow,okay?Idon’twanttolietohereither,but…”Calebwipesahandacrosshisbrow,thenplacesitonhiship.“RememberwhenIbroughthomethatStarWarsLegosetlastsummer?TheDeathStarone?Whichisforadults,bytheway…”Hesighs,hisheadhangingbetweenus.“SarahonlyreferredtomeasDarthLoserforamonth.Amonth.”
Isnicker.“Okay,butIdothinkshemeantthataffectionately.Plus—”
“OrwhenIsuggestedweallgototherenaissancefairwhenwewere,what…eighteen?Shestillsendsmeadvertisementsforthosewithlaughingemojis.She’ssubscribedmetoseveralnewsletters.It’sbeentenyears.”
Okay,oneofthosenewslettersubscriptionswasdefinitelyme,but…
“Orthetime—”
“Yes,yes,Igetit.Iseeyourpoint.”
“Ilovemywifemorethananyone.Youknowthat.Ialsoknowthatmockingisherwayofshowinglove.It’soneofmyfavouritethingsaboutherwhenI’mnotonthereceivingendofit.ButI’dliketoavoiditifIcan.I’dliketomaintainsomelevelofcool.”
Inod,mylipsquiveringasIresistalaugh.Thisisjusttoomuch.
“Win.”Calebsaysmynamelikeaplea.
Asmalllaughbreaksthrough.
“Win!”
“Okay,I’msorry!Ijust,Idon’tthinkshe’dbemeanaboutthis.Whenyouputontheknight’sarmourinBo’scloset,sheseemedkindofintoit,actually.”
Calebmutterssomethingunderhisbreath.
“Comeagain?”
Herepeatshimself,stillnotenunciatingclearly.
Irollmyeyes.“Dude,what?”
“I’mnotaknight,okay?I’mthe…I’mthebard.”
“Bard?Likeapoet-musicianguy?”
Calebblinks,hiseyebrowscrawlinguphisforehead.“Yes,actually.I’msurprisedyouknowthat.”
“Sowhat?You—yousing?Whatisthisgame?”
“Sortof.IhavemagicalpowersthatIharnesswith…song.”
Icovermymouth,butnotintime.
“Win!”
“I’msorry!It’sfunny!Youhavetohearhowfuckingfunnythatsounds.”
“See?Thisiswhy—”
“Yeah,okay!Iunderstand.Iwon’tmakefunofyou.ButIdohavetogomeettheotherguysnow,okay?It’sbadenoughthatyou’rekeepingthemwaiting.They—they,”mylaughterinterruptsme,“theymightneedyourmagicalsingingpowers.”
Caleb,resignedandexhausted,throwshisarmsupintheairandstompsdownthehall.Ifollowshortlybehind,alreadypullingoutmyphonetotextSarah
ME:CometoBo’snow!Calebishere.LyingNERDS.
It’snotmybesttext,butit’llhavetodo,becauseIranoutofhallwaybetweenmeandthegroupofguysinthediningroom.TheirconversationcomestoanabruptendwhenIwalkin.BolooksbetweenCalebandme,shakinghisheadandwearingashit-eatinggrin.
“Hi,everyone,”Isay,approachingtheedgeofthetablecautiously,admiringthemaplaidoutinthemiddleandthemenaroundit.
NexttoasulkingCalebisanoldergentlemanwhoremindsmeofasturdyEnglishbulldoginhisstoutposture,jowledface,andkeennessinhisexpression.AttheheadofthetableisBo,who’sliningupgamepieceswithaconcentratedexpression,andtomyleft,acrossfromCalebandtheolderman,arethreemoreguys.
TheoneclosesttoBohasdarkbrownskin,akindbutapprehensivesmile,shortblackhair,andaleanframe.Theothertwoseemtobeacouple—basedontheproximityoftheirchairsandthehandthemanclosesttomehasplacedontheotherman’sthigh.They’rebothbroadandmuscular.Oneofthemhasgoldentannedskinandlongbrownhair,andtheotherhasapalecomplexionandaclean-shavenhead.
“I’mWin,”Isay,raisingmylefthandtowave.“Iwon’tgetinyourway,butIjustwantedtosay—”
“Well,aren’tyoustunning?”theoldermansaysinathickScottishaccent.Hestands,wearingabeaminggrin,thenmakeshiswayaroundthebackofCaleb’schairtowardme.“Bosaidyouwere,lass,butIdinnabelievehim.”
Igiggle,puttingoutahandtoshakeasheextendshisown.
“I’mHamish,butyoucancall—”
“Allright,that’senough,”Bosays,standingstraighterandcrossinghisarms,toweringoverthetable.“C’mon,man…”Hechucklesbreathlessly.“Idistinctlyremembertellingyoutobecool.”
Thestoutmanpresseshislipstogetherinacheeky,mischievousgrin.“Sorry,”hesaysinanot-ScottishbutentirelyCanadianaccent.“Iliketotestoutmycharactersonnewpeople.DidIhaveyoufooled?”
“Totally,”Ilaughout,myfacebrieflyturningtowardBowithabemusedgrin.
“Walter,”hesays,reachingoutformyhand,draggingmyattentionbacktohim.
Ishakehishand.“Lovelytomeetyou,Walter.”
“Youtoo.”Hewinksatme,hisfaceadorablyjolly.“Andyouseemtoknowthemanwhoreturnedtothetablelookinglikeyoukneedhiminthecrownjewels,buthaveyoumet…”Waltergesturestotheoppositesideofthetablewithanopenpalm.
“Adamir,”theshyeronenexttoBosays,extendinghishandacrossthetableandknockingdownafewgamepiecesinhispath.Boimmediatelybeginsfixingthem.
“Hi,Adamir,”Isayinareassuringtone.“Greattomeetyou.”
“Jeremiah,butyoucancallmeJer,”thebuffonenexttoAdamirsays,extendinghishand.“Andthisismyhusband,Kevin.”
“Goodtomeetyouboth,”Isay,shakingbothoftheirhands.Asmallapologyinmyeyeseachtime,knowingtheymostlikelyfeelthesensationofcurledfingersticklingtheirpalmsasourhandspart.Atleasthandshakesaretypicallyaone-timething.
“Idohavetosaythatyouareglowing,”Kevinsays,hishandcurledunderhischin.“Letmeaskyou—wehaveabetgoing.WhenyoumetBo,wereyouinaparticularlydarkroom?Orareyoujustaverykind,charitablesoul?”
Bolaughsfromtheendofthetable,crossinghishandsoverhischest,atiltofpridetohischin.
“Itwasaverywell-litroom,”IsaywithaquickwinktoBo.“ToobadIdidn’tgettoknowhimfirst,though.”
Theyallgetakickoutofthatone.
“Ilikeher,”Waltersays,jabbinghiselbowintoBoashereturnstohisseat.
“Metoo,oddlyenough,”Bosays,hiseyestracingmefromheadtotoe.Thewayhesaysitissosincereandraw,you’dthinkthathe’dchoosetohavemehereratherthanbeforcedbyourcircumstance.Ifeelthesentimentlockitselfawayinthehollowofmychest,likekindlingbeingplacedintoawood-burningstove.
Preparingtosaymyfarewell,Itakeanotherglancearoundtheroom.Ican’thelpbutnoticehowoddofagroupthisisandlongtoknowwhatbroughtthemalltogether.WhatpiecesofBotheyknowof,andwhetherthey’dbewillingtosharethemwithme.“So,howdidyouallmeet?”Iasknooneinparticular.
“ImetBoinasupportgroup.Matchingcancers,I’mafraid,”Waltertuts.“Butbothofusarestillkicking—thoughsomekickbetterthanothersthesedays.I’vestillgotbothlegs.”Walterbarelygetsthejokeoutbeforehebeginslaughing—awheezing,happyonethatIreallyenjoy.
Bobiteshislip,shakinghisheadwithaslowlyunfurlingsmile.
“He’sbeenwaitingtotellthatjoke,”Bosays,watchingmewithanattentivefocusashebendsacrossthetableandplacesdiceinfrontofCaleb.He’senjoyingmemeetinghispeople,Irealise.He’sdecidingwhetherIfit.DoIfit?
“BoandImetatWaterloo,”Adamirsays,puttinguptwofingerstosignalhisturntospeaklikehe’scurrentlyinclass.“BowastheTAinmyfreshmanyeareconomicscourse.”
ProfessorBo?Icouldbeintoit.Yep—Icheckedwithdownstairsmanagement.Iam.
“BoandIworktogether,”Jeremiahsayssimply.
“Jerismyboss,”Boadds,placingatokenonthetable.“He’stryingtobehumble,buthe’stheheadguyincharge.”
“Right,well,sure.ButhereI’mjustyourcoworker,friend,and,”hepicksupanimaginaryswordfromhisbelt,“warrior,”hesaysdramatically,slashinghissworddown.
“Damn,Iwantonhisteam!”Isay,laughing.
“Aw,shesoundslikemewhenwestarted,”Kevinchimesfromnexttome.“I’mherebecauseBoneededanothermemberandmyhusbandvoluntoldmetocome.Nocomplaints,though.Iliketobedramaticwhengiventhechance.”
“Whendidthisstart?”Iask,myeyebrowraisedatCaleb.
“Ibelievethetextwas…”JerinterjectsbeforeCalebgetsthechancetoanswer.“Hey,Jer,Ihavecancer—shrugemoji.Goingtoneedsometimeoff.Maybeforever—questionmarkemoji.Beforeyouask,becauseeveryonekeepsasking,ifyouwanttohelp,youcanplayDNDwithme.I’vealwayswantedtoplay.Needatleastfiveguys,andIalreadyhavethree.MaybeKevcouldbeintoo?Anyway—fingerscrossedemoji—I’llhopefullybebacktoworksoon.”
I,slackjawedandonlyslightlyamused,gapeatBo.
Helooksatme,smug,andshrugs.“IdidwhatIhadto.”
“Youcancer-guiltedyourfriendsintoplayingDungeonsandDragons?”
“Hedefinitelydid,”Waltersays.“AndIhadcancer.”
“Ijustwantedtoplay,”Adamirsaysquietly.
“Andyou?”IaskCaleb.
“IonlyjoinedinSeptember,”hemumbles.“Itoldyou.Ididn’tknowanythingelse…NotbeforeyoutoldSaraheverythingaboutBo,”hesayspointedly.Imayhavedeservedthat,butIstillglarebackathim.
“Wehadanotherfriendfromoursupportgroupwhohadbeenplayingwithus,”Boexplains,hisexpressionholdingashescratcheshischeek.“HepassedinJune.”
IlookbetweenWalterandBo,whoshareasadbutgentlelookofreassurance.“I’msorry,”Iofferaroundthetable.
WalterpatsBo’sbackwithagentleseriesofslaps.“We’regettingthroughit.And,”hesays,turninghisattentiontoCaleb,“we’reluckytohaveCalebtofillhisshoes.”
Inod,lookingaroundatthemenonceagain,unsureofwhentostepaway.AdamirisstackinghisdiceinfrontofhimasKevinandJermakelovey-eyesateachother,whispering.Bosetsonefinalpiecedownandnodstohimself,asifthetableiscomplete.Calebmouthsdidyoutellher?andIsharplyturnawayfromhim.
“Well,itwasgoodtomeetyouall.I’mgoingto—”
Thedoorbellrings,cuttingmeoff.
“Pizzamustbeearly,”Bosays,thencirclesaroundthetableandpassesbyme,towardthefrontroom.
“It’snotthepizza,isit?”Kevinwhisperstome,agiddysmileovertakinghisface.Hedoeslovethedrama.IlikeKevin,Idecide.
Ishakemyhead—wearingathinlyveiledsmileofmyown.
“Caleb?”Sarahcallsoutfrombehindme,stormingin.“CalebAndrewLinwell,thisisnotakickboxingclass.”
“That’smycue,”IsaytoKevin,pointingovermyshouldertowardmybedroom.“Lovelytomeetyouall!Kickdragonass!Escapethedungeonsandwhatnot!”Ishout,joggingtomybedroombeforeCaleb’sdeathglarestrikesmedown.
Youknow,withhismusicalmagicandall.CHAPTER19
I’llsayit.I’mnotashamed.DungeonsandDragonsisprettyfuckingcool.
ThemomentSarahwasdonegivingCalebtheheftypubliclecturehedeservedforlyingtoherformonths,shecametomyroomanddraggedmebackouttositwithherandwatch.Sarahisnotthetypetoleaveanaudiencehanging,andbasedonallthegiggling,oohs,andahhsIcouldhearfromdownthehall—themenaroundthetablewereeatingherup
Forthefirsttenminutes,IsatandcrochetedwhileSarahpickedatherfingernailsandsneakedpicturesofCaleb,gigglingtoherselfwhenitwashisturntospeak.
Butthen,andIcouldn’tpinpointtheexactmomentifItried,ourattentionwascaptured.BowascraftingastorysoelaboratethatSarahandIsimplygawked,passingabowlofpopcornbackandforth,whilethemenaroundthetableplayedoutabattleinwhichtheytookdownaraven-featheredshapeshifterandhissmallarmyofthieves,defendingalocalinn.
“Myhusband’sagoddamnhero,”Sarahwhisperedtome,herlipspartedinawe.
Theywereveryconvincing.
Forme,itwasthewayBocommandedthetablethathadmeblushingandflustered.Theeasewithwhichhe’dadapttowhatevertheplayersdecidedtoroleplay—thesimplewayheinstructedandletthemguidethestory.Andthen,whenhewasthevoiceoftheraven-featheredvillain?Game.Over.
Thehauntedevilthatwashedoverhisfeatures?Thebass-deeptonetohislowered,gravel-likevoice?I’dhavegottenpregnantagain,ifsuchathingwaspossible.
“Whatdoesthissayaboutus?”IwhisperedbacktoSarahwhenIcaughtherfanningherself.
“Let’snotthinkaboutittoohard,”shesaid,blowingakisstoCaleb—whowasclearlynolongersleepingonthecouch.
ThreehourspassedbeforeBocalledthetime,andthemenallleftcharacterandreturnedtotherealworld.SarahandIbeganshoutingourcomplaints,asweusedtoatthetelevisionwhenourtelenovelasendedonacliff-hanger.
“Whatabouttheswampwoman?Isshethedeadprincess?Doesshehavetheswordofenlightenment?Whathappensnext?”Sarahasks,eyesfilledwithdesperation.
“Ithinkwehaveanaudiencefromhereonout,lads,”Waltersays,placinghisdiceinasmallwoodenbox.
Iyawn,stretchingmyarmsovermyhead,andBotiltshischinup,winkingatme—asifmyyawnwasanonverbalcuetogeteveryoneout.Ihadn’tintendedittobe,butIappreciatetheconcern.
“Walter,areyoustillokaytohostnextmonth?”Boasks,makingquickworkofpackingthetable.
“Oh,well,”Calebinterjects,“maybeIcould?Nowthat…”Hisvoicetrailsoffasheside-eyeshiswife.
“Nowthatyou’renotscaredofyourwifefindingout?”Jerlaughsout.
Calebsighs.Poorguycan’tcatchabreak.
“Ooh!Please,canwe?”Sarahasks,jumpingupanddownnexttoCaleb,shakinghischest.“IcouldbringoutsomeoftheHalloweendecorations!Wecouldhavealeandthemedsnacks.”
“Finebyme,”Waltersays,admiringmybestfriendfondly.
Calebsmiles,kissinghiswifeontheforehead.Hemovestoturnawayfromher,butSarahgripshisshirtandtugshimrightback,pressingherlipstohis.Thentheymakeitweird.SarahgaspsintohismouthasCaleb’shandswanderalittletoolowonherback.
“Okay,okay,okay,”Isay,steppingforwardandpushingtheirshouldersapart.“That’senoughofthat.”
“Youknow,Win,”Calebsayssmugly,fixinghiscollar,“Ithinkyouwereright.”HeeyesSarah’sassasshewalksovertotalktoBo,herlimbsflailingassherecallsthebattle.“Sarahisintothis.”
“WhathaveIdone?”Iaskmyself,tooquietforanyoneelsetohear.
Eventually,everyonemakestheirwayoutside.TheycommuneeverystepofthewayuntilBo’stalkingtothemonthefrontstep,probablyfreezingashesaysanotherlastgoodbye.
“Thosetwoaren’tgoingtomakeitoutofthedriveway,”Bosays,shuttingthedoor.IpeekoutthewindowtoseeCalebandSarahpracticallydryhumpingonthehoodofCaleb’scar.
“ThisiswhatIgetforsnitching,Iguess.Iftheneighbourscomplain,I’lltakeresponsibility.”Ilowerintothearmchair,andBoseemstorecorrecthispathtowardhisdiningroomoncehenotices.Hesitsonthearmofthecouchandbeginsrubbinghisthigh,wincingslightlyashewrapsbothhandsaroundwherehisprosthesisbegins.
“Youokay?”Iask.
“Oh,yeah,fine.It’sjustalittletightrightnow.Thevolumeofmystumpchangesthroughouttheday.IcanchangethesockIwearunderneathtohelp,butIdidn’tgetachance.Mightaswellwaitforbednow.”
Ihaven’tseenBowithouthisprosthesisonyet.I’vewondered,sinceaquickgooglesearchtoldmethatitwasgoodtogowithoutitwhenpossible,toleteverythingbreathe.Especiallysincehementionedinpassingoncethathisnewprosthesis,resizedtofitandsuithimbetter,wascomingattheendofMarch.Hecalleditabelatedbirthdaypresent.
“Youneverhavetowearitformybenefit,youknow.Ifit’suncomfortable…”
“No?Itwon’tfreakyououttoseemehobblingaroundthehouse?”Thecornerofhisliprises,buthiseyesgivehimaway.Ahintofhesitation,atwitchofconcern.
“Notatall,”Ianswer.“Ofcoursenot,”Iadd,firmly.
Henods,buthedoesn’tmovetotakeitoff.“So…”Bosaysinthatfamiliartoneoflet’stalkaboutsomethingelse.“SarahseemedtogetonboardwithDNDfast.”
“Ibetshe’sgoingtosaysomerealunhingedshitinbedtonight,”Isay,grimacing.
Bohuffsalaugh,turningsidewaystofallbackwardontothecouchwithagrunt,spreadingallfourlimbsacrossit.Iinstantlyenvisionmyselflyingontopofhim,thewayhisbodycouldcocoonaroundminesoeasily,andhavetoblinktoeraseitfrommymind.“I’dpaygoodmoneytohearsomeDungeonandDragonsthemeddirtytalk,”hesayswithacrookedsmile.
“Sarahreadssomefilthybooks—it’llbecreative,ifhaunting.”
“Shedidseemtogetakickoutofhimsavingthatbarkeep,”Bosays,flashinghiseyes.
“Ohyeah,shecalledhimahero.”
Bolaughs,histhroatbobbing.“Therewasaside-questinOctoberwhereCalebhadtoflirtwithawitchtogetherto—”Hestopshimself,shakinghishead.“Nevermind.”
“No,no,no…Youhavetotellme.”Mysmileburstswide.“Please,Ineedtoknow.”
“Youhavetosweartomeyouwon’ttellhimItoldyouortellSarah,becausethere’sadecorumtothesethings—Ican’tbecaughttalkingshit.”
“Ipromise!”Imeanitthistime.
“Hesaid…”Bo’slaughisnearuncontrollable,shakinghisentireupperbody,hishandsbouncingastheyrestabovehisabdomen.Hetriestocompletehissentenceafewtimes,buthisvoicefailseachtimeaslaughterovertakeshim.
“Spititout,man!”
“Helookedmedeadinthefuckingeyesandsaidthewords,‘notevenKingArthurcouldpullmeoutofyou.’”
“No!”Isqueal,myhandshootinguptomymouth.
“NotevenKingArthurhimself…”Bosays,hisfaceturningredashestrugglestocatchhisbreath.
WebothburstintofitsoflaughtersooverwhelmingthatItrulycan’tcatchmybreath,clutchingmystomachandsputteringforrelief.TheimageryofBoroleplayingasawitchtobeseducedisfunnyenough,butthatlineispossiblymynewfavouritequote.I’veyettogetatattoo,butImightconsiderit.Infact,Imightrequestitasmyepitaph.Afterall,it’llkillmenottotellSarah.
I’llresist.
“Ohmygod,”Isay,myvoiceweakasIwipeawaytears.
“Ididn’tknowwhattodo!”Bosays,wavinghishandouttohissideasheliesbackdown.“Irolledforit,andthewitchwasseduced.SoIguessitworked?”
“Calebgaveithisall.I’llgivehimthat.”Itrytotakeadeepinhale,butthelaughroilsbackup,takingmybreathfrommeyetagain.
“IthoughtAdamirwasgoingtopassout.Poorthing.”
“Ireallylikeyourfriends,”Isayonanotherlongbreath,steadyingmyself.“Theyseemgreat.Anoddassortment,whichIlove.”
“EvenWalter?”Boasks.Whenhesitsuptoseeme,hedoesaslightdoubletake.Hiseyesholdonmyfacewithasincereappreciationthatcatchesmeoffguardandhasmeswallowingair.Iputtwopalmsonmycheeks,feelingtheirwarmth.Ah,that’swhathe’snoticed.I’mblushing.
“EspeciallyWalter,”Ianswerbeforeclearingmythroat.“OrshouldIcallhimHamish?”
“Youdothatsometimes,”Bosays,touchinghischeekwithaquickdouble-tapofhisfinger.
“Blush?”Ilookaway,becauseoftenitgetsworsewhenspeakingaboutit.Orwhenbeautifulmenpointitout.Boththings.“Yeah…mostpeopledo,”Isay,myvoicesoftened.
“Maybewhenthey’reembarrassed.Butyoublushalot…likewhenyou’rehappytoo.”
“It’sannoying,”Isay,pullingmyhairoffmynecktocooldown.
“Ilikeit,”Bosayssimply.Iturnmyfacebacktowardhim.“Itfeelslikecheckingabox.It’stheonlywaytoknowforsuremyjokelanded,orwell,youknow…”Heswallows,hiseyesflutteringclosedwitharapidseriesofblinks.
“Knowwhat?”Iask,tiltingmyhead
Boscratchesahandthroughhishair,thenbendsforwardasherubsthebackofhisneck.Helooksofftotheside,hisfacedisgruntled,asifhecan’tbelievethewordsabouttocomeoutofhismouth.“You,uh,youblushedonHalloween.”
IdidalotofthingsonHalloween.Myeyesnarrow,mysmilecreepingupsideways.
“Whenyou…came,”headds,hisjawtightandeyesdefinitelyonmyneck,wherethere’snodoubtalingeringpinkhue.
Oh.
“Sorry.”Hiseyebrowspinchtogether,creatingadeeplinedownthecentreofhisforehead.“Idon’tknowwhyIsaidthat.”
I’dtellhimnottoworryaboutit,asflippantlyasIcan,butmythroatisquitepossiblyswellingup.AllIcanfeelisthepoundingofmypulseinmyneck.
“Weshouldgotobed,”Bosays,hiseyesrakingovermewhileheleansfartherawayfromme,asifhe’sresisting.Tellinghimselfno.
Iquirkaneyebrow,wonderingifheknowshe,perhapssubconsciously,propositionedme.
“Oh,no—nottogether.Sorry,not—”Hedropshisfaceintohishands,thenrunsthemboththroughhishair,makingitstickupfunny.“Sorry,”helaughsout.“See?Thisiswhyyouhadtotakethelead.”
Wasitbecauseofhisawkwardness?I’dstartedtotellmyselfitwasbecausehewasn’tallthatinterested.Still,eitherway,it’snotagoodidea.Iswallowthelumpinmythroat.“We,uh,haven’treallytalkedaboutthat.”
Bostaresblanklybackatme,hisbottomlippoutedeversoslightly.
Shit,I’mreallygoingtohavetosaythisalloutloud.Deepbreath.Inandout.
“Idon’tthinkitwouldbewiseofustohaveanysortofphysicalrelationshipfromhereonout.”There,simpleenough.
“No?”Bosaysreactively.
No?
FuckingNo?
WhatthefuckdoesNo?mean?Doeshedisagree?Whatarrangementdidheforeseeushaving?
“It’salreadycomplicated…”Isayslowly.
“Right.”
“Andsexwouldjustcomplicatethingsmore,Ithink.”
“Right.”Hewetshislips,noddingevenstill.
“Mymainconcernisthatsexcouldleadtomorebetweenus,andthenifmorewastoendbadly…thatcouldmakeco-parentingorlivingtogetherimpossible.”
“Right,”Bosays,again.
“Right,”Iechohimcurtly.
“Sorry,”hesays,shakinghimself.“I’mcatchingup.”
“Well,wherewereyou?”Iaskbeforethinking.
Helooksuptotheceiling,hishandsrubbingtogethermindlesslybetweenhispartedknees.Onceheseemstocollecthisthoughts,heholdseyecontactwithmealittletoostronglyformycomfort.Everywherehiseyeslandonmybodybeginstoburn.Sosoonenough,allofmeiswarm.
“Honestly,”hesays,hiseyeshesitantbutstilllockedwithmine.“I’mnotsure.Ihadn’treallythoughtabouthavingrules,Iguess.Thisisallsonew,andwell,ifI’mbeinghonest—”
“Rulesaregood,though,right?”Iinterrupt.IfIwasabettingwoman,Iwouldguessthatattheendofthatsentence,there’sanI’mnotentirelyovermyex,which,ifI’mbeinghonest,Icannotbeartohear.“It’sgoodwetalked.Boundariesandwhateverelse…Designedtokeepussafe.”I’munstoppablenow,talkingamileaminute,makingnexttonosense.“Thisway,ourfocusremainsonbeingthebestteampossibleforthekid.Wecankeepthingssimpleinanalreadycomplicatedsituation.That’sthegoal,yeah?Successfullyco-parenting.”
“That’sthegoal,”Boagrees,pressinghislipstogether,noddingtightly.“Ofcourse.”
“Soit’ssettled,then.Platonicfriendswithfoetuses.”Ileanbackinthechair,snifflingjustonce.IwatchasBobringsahandtothesideofhisface,hismouthleaningintoitashescratchesbesidehisear,smilingtohimselflikehe’sgotasecret.
“What?”Iask.“What’sthatlook?”
“Nothing,”hesays,droppinghishand.“Iheardyou.Understood,”hesays,voicepitching.
“Bo…”Isayfartoosoftly.Translatingtohim,Ihope,asdon’tlietome.
Hetraceshisbottomlipwithhisthumb,thenstaresupattheceiling.“Ifourgoalisplatonic…couldyoudomeafavour?”
“Sure?”Iask,obviousconfusionovertakingmyvoice.
“Couldyoukeepitdown?Atnight?”
“Huh?”Iask,secondsbeforemyheartdropswithrealisation—nearlyforcingitintomystomach.Iimmediatelyfeelflushed,myfacenowburningredforalltheusualreasons.
Henotices,hislipstwitchingupjustalittle.“Oldhouse,thinwalls.Beautifulmoaningcomingfromdownthehallthatmakesmewanttopullmyhairout.”
Thisisnothappening.Iforbidthisfromhappening.
Hedoesn’tlookaway,hiseyesnarrowingonmeasIstareoffoverhisshoulder,willingmyselftoteleportintothefuckingsun.
Thisisactually,truly,definitelyhappening.
Imusthavebeenaprolificassholeinapreviouslifetodeservethis.Anoiltycoon.Acorruptdictatorofasmallnation.Amosquitocarryingmalaria.Whoeverfirstdecidedtoinstallfluorescentlightinginachangingroom.
Inod,mymouthstuckopenandmyjawlockedintoplace.“Okay,”Iwhimperinvoluntarily.“Ofcourse,”Isay,standingonwobblylegs.
I’mleaving.Fleeing.
Hecanseethekidontheireighteenthbirthday,ifIsomehowmanagetosurvivethislevelofmortification.IrefusetoacknowledgeBoasIpasshimbyandenterthefronthall,slippingonmybootsbeforereachingformyjacket.
“Win,”Bolaughsoutmyname,cominginafterme.
“Nope,”Isaysharply,reachingforthedoorhandle.
Heplaceshishandontopofmine,stoppingmefrommyescape.
Idonotlookupathim.Thebignerdwithsupersonichearingandastupidlycutefaceandgiantwarmhands.Fuckhim.Ihatehim.
Howmuchdidhehear?
“Win…”Bosays,histonelacedwithenjoymentthatIdeeplyresent.
“Pleaseletmegooutintothecoldtodie.”Idropmyforeheadagainstthedoor.
“Ican’tletyoudothat,honey.”
“Donotcallmethat,”Isnap.
“Sorry,”Borecoils,removinghishandfromontopofmineandtakingastepback.
Iliftmyforeheadandletitfallagainstthedooragain,myfaceturnedtowardhimslightly.“Howmuchdidyouhear?”Meaning,didyouhappentoheartheonetimeIaccidentallyletyournameslipout?Or,perhaps,thesecondtimeitdidwhenIrealisedhowclosejustsayingyournamegotmetothefinishline?
Bobraceshisforearmacrossthetopofthearchwayandleansintoit,closingthespacebetweenushalfaninch.ButIfeelhimeverywhere.“EnoughtoknowyouthinkaboutHalloweentoo.”
Shit,fuck,shit.
“Okay,well…”Itrytoformulateadefence,despitetheneedtoshrivelupanddie.“ItwasthelasttimeIhadsex.WhatelseamIgoingtothinkabout?”
“Yourbesttime,”heoffers,hisvoicetaunting.“Unless…”Hedropshisarmandbendsatthewaist,smuginhisapproach.“Thatalsohappenstobethatnight.”
“Youwish,”Ispit.
Bosighs,hiseyesfallingtothefloorashestraightens,standingandwipingahanddownhisface.“Ithinkyou’reright,though,”hesays,hisvoicefaroff.“Abouttherules…movingforward.Ithinkthat’stherightthingtodo.”
But…
Iwait.Athintightropeundermyfeetleadingtohis.
Nobutfollows.
Ishouldn’tbedisappointed,right?It’sridiculoustobedisappointed.Thesearemyrules.I’veonlyjustsharedthem.
“Okay…”Ireply,pressingmyearagainstthefrontdoor,givinghimafewmoreinchesofmyface,thoughIcan’tbringmyselftolookathimforlong.
“I’msorry,”hesays.“Ishouldn’thavesaidanything.”
“Andkeephearingme?No…”
Bolooksatmesympathetically,acrookedsmileandalong,thoughtfulbreaththatraiseshischest.“C’mere.”Hereachesoutformyarm,tuggingmetowardhimandawayfromthedoor.Hewrapsonearmaroundmyshoulders,holdingontothetopofmyarm,andreststheotheronthebackofmyhead,pressingmetohim.Igrumblemyannoyance,remainingstiffalloverwithmyarmslockedatmysides.
ButIcan’thelpbutbreathehimin.Thatcinnamon,muskyscent.Theonethat’ssodistinctlyhim.Sweetandwarmandinviting.Andprovingtome,onceagain,whyweneedtheserules.
“We’regoingtofigurethisout,Win,”hesays,droppinghischintothetopofmyhead.“Rules,plans,boundaries…It’llsortitselfout.”Bosighs,curlingmecloser.“IamsorryIteasedyou,though.Ishouldn’thavedonethat.Whateveryouneedtobecomfortablefromhereonout,I’lldo.”
“WhatIneedisthickerwalls,”Imumbleagainsthischest.
“I’llcallacontractor,”hesays,looseninghisarmsandsteppingbackward.
Istillcan’tbringmyselftolookathim,soIstudythefloorbetweenus,thegroovesofthedark,woodenfloors
“I’msorrytoo,”Isaymeekly.“Thatyouheardme.That’snot…It’sthepregnancyhormones—they’remakingme…”Myvoicewandersoff,andIshakemyself.“I’msorry.”
“WoulditmakeyoufeelbetterorworsetoknowthatIenjoyedit?”
Better.“Worse.”
“Well,thenIhatedit.”Boreachesout,tiltingupmyfacewithhisbentknuckleundermyjawandhisthumbpressedtomychin.Slowly,Idragmyeyesuptoseehim.“ItrulyamsorryImadeyoufeelembarrassed.Youhavenothingtobeashamedof.I’mgladwe’reonthesamepagenow.Keepingmyselfawayfromyourbedroomwasnearlyimpossible,butnow,withtheserules,I—”
Iinterrupthim,removinghishandfrommyquiveringchinbysteppingbackward,myasshittingthewalloftheentranceway,nexttoourcoatshungonthewall.“Just…”Stoptalking,Ibegwithmyeyes.That’snothelping.Ibreatheinslowly,allowingmyeyestosoftlycloseasIdo.
Thenit’sworse.
Thesecondmyeyesareclosed,myimaginationisoverrunwithimagesofBoburstingintomybedroomandpinningmyhandsabovemyhead,tossingmyvibratoracrosstheroom,andusinghismouthinitsplace.Histeethtuggingatmyflesh,hislipskissingacrosstheswellofmybelly,histonguelappingatmybreast.Icanpracticallyhearthoseperfectwhimperingnoiseshemadeashecameundonebeneathme.
Pressingmykneestogether,Iopenmyeyeswithanewfoundstubbornness.Itrytoremindmyselfoftherealityhere.WhatIknowversuswhatIwishcouldbe.
IknowthatBoisagoodguy.
Iknow,unfortunately,thatBoisgreatinbed.
ButIalsoknowthatBoisatleastalittlehunguponhisex.
AndIknowmyheartwouldn’tbeabletotakehavingsexwithhimagain.It’dbefartooeasytofallforhimnow,withalltheseincreasinglayersofcircumstanceandproximitybetweenus.AndIdon’tthinkhe’sreadyforwhatthatcouldleadto.Idon’tthinkhewantsthatwithme.Ithinkhewantsher,evenstill.He’s,perhaps,loyaltoafault.Whichisonlymoreupsetting.Evenhisbadtraitsaregoodones.
Icannotconfusebeingherewithbeingwanted.
Icannotconvincemyselfthathe’dwantmemorethanhisex.
Icannotletmyselffallforamanwhoseheartbelongstosomeoneelse.
“Bringagirlhome,”Isaywithafalseindifference.“Aloudone,preferably.Geteven,andwecanforgetaboutthewholething.”
Hisfacefalls,thenhardensintoascowl.It’sanexpressionI’veyettoseefromhim.Idon’tlikeit.Itdoesn’tsuithimatall.“Thatwouldmakeyoufeelbetter?Mehavingsexwithsomeoneelsedownthehall?”heasksharshly.
“Yeah,sure.Whynot?”Ireply,unfittinglyblasé.
Hebringsahandtohisface,sighingoutashepinchesthebridgeofhisnose.“It’slate.Weshouldgetsomesleep.”
Inod,foldingmyarmsacrossmychest.Iwillmylegstomove,buttheyrefuse.
“Iamsorry,Win.Ididn’tmeanto—”
“We’refine,”Iinterrupt,standingstraighter.“Trickytopic,butit’ssettlednow.Friends,right?”
Bobeginsslowlywalkingbackwarduntilthebacksofhislegshitthebackofthecouch.Helowersagainstit,lookingratherdefeatedashenodshisagreement.“Friends…Alwaysthat.”Bosmilessoftly,hiseyesfilledwithequalpartsdiscomfortandreassurance.Itupsetsme.Seeingthathe’stryingtosetmeatease.
Andforthefirsttime,Ifindmyselfwishingamanwasmoreofajerk.
“Okay,well,goodnight,”Isay,brushingpasthimtowardourbedrooms.Onceinthehallway,Ipresstheheelofmypalmintomyforehead,wincingonimpact.
Assoonasmyhandreachesmybedroom’sdoorhandle,Istill.
DesperatelytornbetweenwhatIwantandwhatIknow,Ilinger.Hopingthatmaybehe’llbringmethatnightlyglassoficewaterandslipintobednexttome,harmlessinhisapproach.Wondering,desperately,ifhefeelsthistoo.Thistension,likeaforce,likeatether,sotightlywoundbetweenus.Allthesestringsattachedthatwereneversupposedtobethere.
Iremindmyselfofthem.Onebyone,pluckingateachstring,eachreason,likeaninstrumentinmymind.Tellingmyself,asIhaveforyears,thatlogicneedstoconquermyrecklessheart.
SoIgotobed.Alone.
Quietasamouse.CHAPTER20
Thiswillhelp.Italwaysdoes.
Everydazzlingsecondoffractured,flickeringblue-huedshadowsprojectedontothepool’sfloor.ThewhooshofthewaterbetweenstrokesasIliftmyheadabovethesurfaceforquickgaspsofair.Thesmellofchlorine,andthesensationofmyfeetpushingagainsttileasIrollforwardintomynextlap.
Irepeatedlykeeptellingmyselfthiswillhelpwhileexhaustivelybecomingmoreandmoretense.
I’vebeenpent-upsincelastnight.Aftertossingandturningforhours,Idecidedtheonlysolutionwastospendanearlymorningatthepool,exertingsomeofthistensionasbestIcan.Pushingmybodytoitslimitsincatharticrelease.
WhileI’vealwaysfeltmostatpeaceinsideanaturalbodyofwater,swimminganywherecanbringmerelief.
Butnottoday,itseems.
Thisislapseventeen.I’veyettodeterminehowmanyit’lltaketofeellikemyselfagain,butthenumberkeepsincreasingwitheveryturn.I’llbeswimminguntilIforgettheveryloudmemoryofmyconversationwithBolastnight.Themortificationoflivingdownthehallfromsomeonewhoknowsyoutouchedyourselfthinkingaboutthemandhasheardyoudoingit.
And,simultaneously,I’llbehereuntilImustertheconsiderableamountofself-controlIneedtohearthatBoenjoyedhearingmeandstillnotmakethereckless,short-sighteddecisiontosleepwithhimagain.
Iliftmyleftarmupandovermybody,carvingastreamintothewateraheadofmeatfullspeed,thenswitchtomyright.
Left,right.
Ihaven’thadsexsinceHalloween.But…hashe?
Left,right.
He’snotactuallygoingtobringanothergirlhome,right?
Left,right.
Whatifhecallsmybluff?
Left,right.
WhenIreachtheedgeofthepool,IpullmyselfupandoverandcatchmybreathasItugoffmygoggles,bringingtwopalmstocovermyeyes.Fuck.Thisisdefinitelynotworking.
AllIcanseeisBo’sface,hisarmleisurelydrapedacrossthetopofthearchway,hisframetoweringoverme.HislipsrepeatingkeepingmyselfawayfromyourbedroomwasnearlyimpossibleoverandoverandoveruntilIwanttoscream,sowhydidyou?
IcouldaskSarahtospendthenightathers…Givemyselfadayortwotocooloff.ButamIseriouslygoingtohavetodothateverytimeIfindBoattractive?I’manadult,forfuck’ssake.We’veslepttogether.It’snotexactlysurprisingthatthoseurgesdidn’tgoawaythemomentthecomplicationsmultiplied.
Butsomethinghastogive.
AndI’mincreasinglyawarethatitmightbemyself-restraint.
“Win?”adeep,friendlyvoicecallsout,echoingaroundthepool.
Itwisttolookbehindme,lookinguptothelifeguardtowertofindafamiliarface.“Cam?”Icalluptohim,smilingbroadly.
ItrainedCamthreeyearsagoatWestcliffPoint,andhe’sbeenbackeverysummersinceasalifeguard.I’veonlyeverbumpedintomysummerpeopleoutsideofsummermonthsahandfuloftimes,anditalwaysthrowsmeoffabit.ButCamisasweetheart.Thoughthetimingofrunningintohimcouldbebetter.
“Ithoughtthatwasyou,”hesays,hisdimplesappearingasheflickshiscopperhairawayfromhisface.
“Hi!”Isay,liftingmylegstorotateandstand.Ilookdownatmyswimsuit,wonderingifhe’llbeabletonoticemylittlebabybump.It’satoss-up,consideringhowtighttheone-piecesuitis,butevenifhesuspects,Idoubthe’llask.“How’veyoubeen?”Iask.
“Good,good,keepingbusy.Lifeguardinghereandteachingprivateswim.Howaboutyou?”
“Prettygood,”Ianswerashestartstodescendtheladder.“Atthecafé.Still.”
Camstopsafewfeetshyofme,tuggingonthelanyardaroundhisneck.“It’ssofunnyIbumpedintoyou…Iwasjustthinkingaboutyoutheotherday.”
Okay…maybeIshouldtellhimI’mknockedup.
“Ijuststartedteachingthiskid,Henry.Hehasahandjustlikeyours.Iwastellinghimallaboutmyfriendwho’sthebestswimmerIknow,andhenearlylosthismindwithexcitement.”
Ipout,andanadoringwhineescapesfrommychest.“Really?”Iask,elongatingtheword.
“Yeah.He’ssosweet.Areallyfunkidtoteach.Iwaschattingwithhisparentsafterhisfirstlesson,andtheymentionedthey’retryingtofindasummercampforhim.IimmediatelythoughtofyouandthatideayoutoldCaseyandmeaboutatlastyear’sbonfire.Yourcamp?”Hebrusheshishairawayfromhisfaceagainandadjuststhewhistleonhisneckashiseyesglazeoverinthought.“Whatdidyoucallit?Camp…”
CampCando.Abitonthenose,sure,butitisforkids.“Itwasjustanidea…”Ishrugoneshoulderwhilesimultaneouslywrappingmyarmacrossmystomach,holdingontomyelbow.“Idon’tevenremember.IthinkI’djustdrunktoomuch.”Sixbeers.ButIdoremember.Itfeltincredibletotalkaboutitagain.ThatwastheonlytimeI’vetalkedaboutmycampinthepastfewyears,otherthanwhenItoldBo.
“That’sashame.Theseparentswouldlovesomethinglikethat.”
Ismiledespitetheacheinmychestnaggingtobeheard.“How’shedoing?Withtheswimming?”
“Fine.But,actually,whileIhaveyouhere,canIpickyourbrain?”
Inodeagerly.
“He’sgotmostofthetechniquedown,buthereallyovercompensateswithhisrighthand—thebiggerone—anditsteershimalittleoffcourse.I’vetriedtheusualstuff,butheseemstostillgetoffbalance.Whatwouldyousuggest?”
“Whatposition?”
“Nearlyallofthem,butit’sworsewithbreaststroke.”
“It’shardtosaywithoutseeinghimswim.When’shehere?”
“Tuesdayevenings.”
“I’moffonTuesdaynextweek.Icouldcomebyifyou’dlike.”
“Seriously?”Camasks,bendinghisknees,crouchingdownsoourfaceslineup—histotallyburstingwithjoy.Inod,caughtoffguard,ashepicksmeupandspinsmearoundintheair.“That’dbeamazing.”Hedropsme,onehandstuckonmyshoulder,andsteadiesmeasIregainmybalance.
“Anytime?”Ilaughout.
“CanItextyouthedetails?Idon’tthinkIhaveyourphonenumber.”
“Oh,sure.”Iwaitashepullsouthisphone,thenIputmynumberintoit.SavingmyselfasWinnietheOne-HandedWonder—becauseitjustfeltright.
Andsuddenly,I’mnotinsuchabadmood.
“He’sgoingtobesoexcitedtomeetyou.And,”hesmilesdownatmycontactinformationonhisphone,tappingthescreen,“thenamesuitsyou.Ididtalkaboutyouasifyouwereasuperhero.”
“Well,let’shopeHenryisn’tdisappointed.”
“Aw,well,whocouldbe?”Hewinksbeforeglancingaroundthepool.“Shit,Iamveryluckynoonedecidedtodrownjustnow.I,uh,shouldprobablygetbackupthere.”Hepointsathumboverhisshoulder.
“Right,yeah,I’mgoingtotryafewmorelaps.Clearmyhead.”
“Youshouldreallythinkaboutthatcamp,Win.”Camsays,saunteringbackwardslowly.“Ithinkitcouldbeaverycoolthing!”
AndIdothinkaboutit.
IthinkaboutitsomuchthatI’mnolongerthinkingaboutlastnightorwhatcouldhavebeen.Infact,bythetimeI’mshowered,dressed,andonthebusridehome—Ican’tthinkaboutanythingelse.Mythoughts,ideas,andquestionspileontopofoneanother.Andsuddenly,IhaveanentirelynewconversationI’dliketohavewithBo.
FinanceBo,thatis.
NottobemistakenwithaFinanceBro.
God,no.
WhenIgethome,Bo’sonaclientcallathisdesk,swivellinginhischairashetapstheendofapenciltothefarcornerofhiseyebrow.Hislonglimbsareallspreadoutasheleansback,nearlycapsizing.
Iapproachhisdesk,buzzingwithenergy,droppingmythingsontothecouchonmywaytowardhim.
Hetiltshisheadcuriouslyatme,agreeingtowhatevertheotherpersononthephoneissayingwithaseriesofmurmuredmm-hmms.“What?”hemouthssilently,hisgiddysmilematchingmyown.
“Ihaveanidea,”Iwhisper,hoveringabovehim.“But…Ineedyourhelp.”
Hecheckshiswatchandnodsatme,holdingoutonefinger.
WhenIlingerforwhatfeelsliketoolong,Ibeginbitingatmythumbnailanxiously.Bocheckshiswatchagain,apologisingwithaneyerolldirectedatthephoneandawrapitupmotionwithafingerpointedatthesky
TheimmediaterealisationthatI’mstandingovertheguywhilehe’sworkingstrikesandfillsmewithembarrassment.I’mactingasifI’mentitledtohistime.I’mverymuchnotentitledtohistime.Especiallywhenhistimepaysthevastmajorityofmybills.
“Sorry,nevermind.Itcanwait,”Isay,wavingmyhandsandsteppingbackontomyheel.
Hestopsmewithafirmgrasparoundmyforearm,droppingthepencilontothefloorashedoes.
Ihadonlyjustgottenthosethoughtsoutofmyhead…
“Hey,Odette?I’msosorrytointerrupt,butmycolleague,Fred,justremindedmeofameetingthat’salreadystartedwithoutme.SoI’llhavetoletyougo.”Henods,hiseyesstuckonhiscomputerscreenandhishandstillclaspedaroundme.
Itakeasecondtoappreciatetheveinsinhishands.Thesheersizeofthemcausesenvyonthebestofdays,butthestrengthanddefinitionofthemisn’tlostonmeeither.Iknowit’sironic,tohavesomesortofhandfetish.Butinmydefence,IneverevenconsideredhandsasanythingotherthanlimbspriortoBo.
AndIcouldshrugfreeofhishold,butIdon’t.
“Yep.Yes,ofcourse.I’llcheckinthen.Bestofluckwiththemove.Okay,yes,bye-bye.”Bodropshisphoneonthedeskwithacarelessthudandturnstome,eager-eyedandexcitable,beforehereleasesmyarm.“What’shappening?What’sthisidea?”
IgrabafoldingchairstillleftoutfromtheDNDgamelastnightanddragitovertohisdesk.“Iwantyoutohelpmewithmoney.”
“Seriously?”Hegripsthearmsofthechairashekicksalegout.“Hellyeah!”
Ilaugh,alittleoffended.“I’mnotthatbadwithmoney,amI?”
“No.Sorry,just—I’mgladyou’dcometomeforhelp.Ilikethat.”
Donotblush“Iwanttofigureouthowtogetabusinessloan.Howtomakeasavingsplanandhowtoreallygettheballrollingonmycamp.Idon’tcareifit’lltakemetenyearsorevenmore—Ijustwanttostarttheprocessnow.TellmewhatIneedtodo.”
Hissmileiswarmandslowandthoughtful,creasinglinesnexttohiseyesandeyebrowsrisinguphisforehead.Histonguedartsouttolickhislipsashenods.“Fuckyeah.Let’sdosomemath.”
Icheckinwithhimatthefirsthourmark,ensuringthathedoesn’thaveactualclientsorresponsibilitiesheshouldbetendingtoinstead.Then,whenhisphoneringsforthesecondtimeasIfetchussnacksfromthekitchen,Imakesurehedoesn’thavetoanswerit.Bothtimes,hedismissesmepolitely,focusingintentlyonthespreadsheethe’scrafting.
Threeandahalfhourslater,IhaveafilelabelledWinniFREDMcNultyonhisdesktop,anewmonthlybudget,apileofstickynoteswiththingsIneedtodobeforecontactingbanks,andtwodifferenttimelinesforloanapplications—dependingonhowaggressivelyI’mwillingtosave.
It’sastart.
It’saverygoodstart.
“Thisisexciting,Win.”Boshutshislaptop,makinghismonitorturnoffaswell.
“Iseriouslycannotthankyouenough,”Isay.“Thisfeelslikethefirsttimeanyone’stakenthisideaseriously.”
“Don’tthankme.Youdeservebetterthanthat.Notonlyisthisaphenomenalidea,butit’salsoanexcellentbusinessplan—whoeverdecidestoinvestwillbebetteroffforit.”
“So,inyourprofessionalopinion,doesitfeel…doable?”Iask,myhesitantoptimismobvious.
“Yes,absolutely.Butdon’tyoumeanCampCan-doable?”Bolaughsfromthebackofhisthroat,standingfromhischairandstretching.Heseemstoalwayswearaknittedsweateranddarkjeansortrouserswhenhe’sworking.He’salwaysdressedsharply,eventhoughI’veneverseenhimpickupavideocall.Ihavetheurgetopressmyfaceagainsteachofthesweatersthatheseemstohavestockinandtestthemfortheirsoftness.
“Really?”Isighout,huffingoutaweaklaughasIfollowhimtowardthekitchen.
“Hey,Ihaveagod-givenrighttomakedadjokesnow,”hesays,hisheadinthefridge.
“WhydoIhavethefeelingyoualwayshave?”
Heshutsthefridge,hislipspushedouttothesideashelooksatme,anideasparkedbehindhiscurious,hazeleyes.“Doyouhavelunchplanstoday?WithSarah?”
“Nope,”Ipopthep.“Why?”
“There’snothinginhereIwant.Wanttograblunchwithme?”
“Ooh,canwegetburgers?I’vebeenreallycravingketchup.”
“Justtheketchup?”Boasksoverhisshoulder,walkingdownthehalltowardhisbedroom.
“Yes.Inacup,preferably,”Ianswerashecomesbackintoviewholdingasmallboxofcards.
“Bringingthese,sinceweskippedlastnight.”Hestopsstill.“Didyousayinacup?”
“Hey!”Isaydefensively,claspingtwoprotectivehandsovermytummy.“They’llhearyou!Don’tmockthem.”
Bobendsatthewaist,alopsidedgrininfulleffect.“Kid,tellyourmomyouwanticecreamorpineapplejuice,orhell,pickles.Ketchupisaweirdchoice.”Hestandsstraightandbrushespastme,headingtowardthefrontofthehouse.Ifollow,playingupmyoffence,mymouthopenandahandclaspedovermychest.
“Howrude!”Iexclaim,tuggingonmywinterboots.Boholdsupmyjacketforme,andIslipmyarmsinside.“Thefirsttimeyoutalktothem,andyoudecidetofood-shamethem?”
“It’snotthefirsttime,”Bosays,grabbinghiskeysfromthewallandthrowingopenthefrontdoor.
It’snotuntilIbucklemyselfintohispassengerseatthathe’snearenoughformetorespond.“Whatdoyoumean?Whenelsehaveyoutalkedtothem?”
“WhenyoufellasleepwatchingLordoftheRings.Ihadtotellallmyfunfactsandtriviatosomeone.Plus,oncethemovieended,Ineededtoexplaintothemwhytheymightfeelalittle…jostled.”
Istareathimabsently.
“Howdoyouthinkyougottoyourbed?”heasks,hiseyesnarrowed.
“IassumedIjusthalfsleepwalked.”
“No,youwereoutcold,”Bosays,turningthecaron.
“Youcarriedmetobed?”Iask.
“Yeah,”hesays,puttinghisarmbehindmyheadresttolookoverhisshoulderashebacksoutofthedriveway.“Sorry,isthatweird?Ididtrytowakeyou.”
“No.”Iswallow,admiringthesharplineofhisjawashekeepshiseyeslockedonthestreetbehindus.“That’sfine.”
Afewminutespassaswedriveinsilence,otherthantheradiocommercials.Webothsingalongtoonejingleinsequence,startingandstoppingatthesametimewithoutacknowledgingeachother.
“We’vepassedlikeeveryburgerchain,”Ipointouttenminutesintoourdrive.
“Please.YouthinkI’dtakethemotherofmychildtoaMcDonald’sforacelebratorylunch?”Hetuts.“C’mon,havemorefaithinmethanthat.”
“Celebratory?”Iask.“Whatarewecelebrating?”
“Yournewplan.Thekidyou’regrowing.You,ingeneral.”
Iblushimmediately.
Bonotices,thenglancesaway,hisjawworkingashiseyesnarrowontheroadahead.
AttheexactmomentIask,“Shouldwetalkaboutlastnight?”Bosays,“I’msorryforlastnight.”
“It’sallgood,”Isaywithfullconfidence.“Tensionsaregoingtorunalittlehigh,giventhecircumstances.Ithinkwe’redoingagreatjobandshouldprobablyexpecttheretobesome…awkwardness.We’llkeepfocusingongettingtoknowoneanotherasfriends.”
“Still,Ishouldhaveneversaid—”
“IthinkI’dfeelbetterifwejustpretendedyou…didn’t.”
“Okay,”hesays,nodding,hishandstighteningaroundthewheel.“IsitcoolifIjustapologiseonemoretime?”Hewinces,turningtowardmebrieflywithasweetshynessinhiseyes.
“Onelasttime,”Isay.
“I’msorry,”hesayscompulsively,asifhe’sbeenholdingitbackforfarlongerthanafewseconds.“Fromnowon,wewillpretendthebabywasanimmaculateconception,andyou’llbemysexlesspalFred,ifthat’swhatyouwant.”
Ihearahighpitchringinginmyear.Thesoundofmylibidoscreamingformercy,ifI’mnotmistaken.“That’sprobablyforthebest.”Bochangesgearsbetweenus,andthebackofhisknucklesbrushthesideofmythighaccidentally.Still,Ican’thelpbutgrindmyteethasIlookoutthewindow.
“Wanttobustoutaquestionbeforewegettotherestaurant?”heasks,reachingintotheinsideliningofhisjacketandpullingthedeckofcardsoutoftheinnerpocket.Heholdsthemouttome,hiseyesflickingbetweentheroadaheadandmyface.
“Sure,”Isay,takingthecards.CHAPTER21
Theuniverseislaughingatus.
“Hey,Isawthat,”Bosays,hisfacetwistingbetweenmeandthecarinfrontofus.“Noswitchingcards.Whatdiditsay?”
“Trustme,”Isay,droppingthedecktomylap.
“We’regoingtodothemalleventually,right?”
“Yeahbut—”
“Nocard-switching,”hesays,signallingashechangeslanes.“Newrule.”
“Fine.”Itakethecardbackfromthebottomofthedeckandturnitover,holdingitagainstmybouncingknee.“Whathasbeenyourmostsignificantsexualexperience?Whatdiditteachyou?”
Bodoesn’tlaugh,thoughIcantellhe’dliketo.“GoodQ…”hesaysdryly.
“Solid.Notatallwhatwe’retryingtoavoid.”
“Perfecttiming,really.”
“Icantakethisone,”Isay,flickingthecornerofthecardagainstmykneerepeatedly.Thequickerweanswerthat,thequickerwecanmovepastit.Andhopefullygetsomewhereforfood.“Imean…there’snothingquiteassignificantasthetimeIgotpregnant,”Ijokeweakly.
WhatIdon’tsayisthatI’dalsoneverexperiencedsexlikethat.TheintimacysharedwithsomeoneIhardlyknew.HowmuchtrustIhadinhim,despitethatunfamiliarity.ThemomenthekissedmyhandplaysonmymindfarmoreoftenthanI’dcaretoadmit.Howdesirableitmademefeel.Thathewantedmenotdespitemydifferencesbut,equally,forthemButIcan’tsaythat;it’sfartoointimate.Fartootrue.
“AndIlearnedtotakemybirthcontrolontime,that’sforsure,”Iadd.
“Wouldyou?”Boasks,hisattentionfacingforward.
“WouldIwhat?”
“Ifyoucouldgoback,wouldyouhavetakenyourbirthcontrolontime?Preventedthis?”Heasksitwithzerojudgement,histonegenuinelycurious.
“Oh,I,um…”IbitemythumbnailasIconsidermyanswer.Asunexpectedasthisallwas,asunrecognisableasmylifeisnow,IdoubtIwouldchangeathing.I’dbeendirectionlessforsolong.Keepingmyheaddown,livingthedaytodaywithnorealplansforthefuture.Butnow,Ihavemyheadup.Longingforwhat’stocome,asnewandrewardinglyterrifyingasitmaybe.Planningforalifethatisn’tentirelymyownanymorewokemeup.
“Ifthat’stoointenseofaquestionyoudon’t—”
“No,”Iinterrupt.“Iwouldn’thaveconsciouslydecidedtogetpregnant.Thatwouldn’tbefairtoyou.ButifIhadthechoicetogoback,Iwouldn’t.Ineededthis.”It’sasimpleadmission,butcompletelytrue.Ineededthis.
Adeeperpartofmerealises,too,thatIneededBo.Someonewho,fromthemomentIstuckoutmyhand,hasunderstoodmeatafundamentallevelthatmanypeoplecannot.Someonekind,compassionate,hard-workingwhobelievesinme.
That’senough,Ithink.Tohaveafriendwhobelievesinme.Hedoesn’towemeanymorethanthat.
“Meeither,”Bosaysdecidedly,eventhoughIdidn’task.“Iwouldn’tgoback.”
Hisvoicewashesovermelikewarm,silkywaterpassingdownmyspine.Relaxingeverymuscle.DismissingaworrythatI’dkepthidden,evenfrommyself.“You’dchoosethis?”Iask,feelingthestartoftearsstingmynose.Iwanttosay,me?You’dchooseme?
“Yeah,IthinkIwould.Iknowthetimingisn’texactlyideal,butifyoulinedupeveryotherpersonintheworldwhoIcould’vehadababywith,I’dchooseyouagain.You’regoingtobeafantasticmom,Win.”
I’dchooseyouagain.
Everyotherpersonintheworld.
Iknowhedoesn’tmeanforhim,butforthekid.Butthesentimentisstillnice.ThathethinksI’mgoingtobethatgoodofamother,whenIsooftendoubtthatI’llbeanysortofmomatall.
“Blegh!”Isay,wipingatearfrommycheekthatfellbeforeBohadevenfinishedspeaking.“Don’tbesonicetome.I’mstarving,andthisbabyisobsessedwithmakingmeasentimental,emotionalmess.I’mweakened.”
“Wanttoaskanotherquestion?”heasks,smilingtohimselfasheexitsthehighway.“We’vegotaboutfivemoreminutes.”
“Whoa,whoa,whoa,”Isay,sniffling.“Iseeyou.Youdidn’tanswer.”
Helickshislips,lookingbashfullyattheroadahead.“Sameanswer.Us.”
IhadsomanymorewordsthanhimwhenIanswered.Buthisanswercarriesmoreweight,somehow.Iignorethewaymyhearttwists.Ihaveto.“Samereason?”Iask.“Thebaby?”
“Kindof…Thebabyisabigfactor,obviously.But,also,whatitmeantforme.”Iwatchhischestriseandfallonaheavybreath.
“Whatdiditmean?”Iask,soquietI’mnotsurehecanhearme.
Hisjawworks,hiseyesflickingovertomyfacewithanervoussmilethattwitchesaway.“Imentionedthatsincemysurgery,Ihadn’tbeenwithanyone.IthinkIhadstartedtoconvincemyselfthatmaybeIwouldn’tagain.Thatnoonewouldwantmelikethatanymore.”
“Butyou’reyou,”Isay,foolishlyinterrupting.
Bo’schintiltsupwithacockysmile.“I’dlovetohearyouexpandonthat.”
“Shutup,”Isay,mycheekswarming
Heloosenshishandaroundthetopofthesteeringwheelandswipesitacrosstheleather.“Youmademefeelreallywanted,”hesayssoearnestlythatitlandsinmychest,reverberatinglikeanechoinanabandonedtunnel.“You…”Helaughsanxiously.“Fuck,whyisitsohardtodescribe?”
Irecogniseit.Whathe’stryingtosaybutcan’tfindthewordsfor.BecauseIfeltittoo.Sowhydidheleave?
“Seen?”Iask,makingtwofistsinmylap.
Henods.“Understood,”headds.“Like…Idon’tknow.”Helaughssoftly,lookinguptotheleft.“LikemaybeI’mfineasIam.Asis.”
“Whenyoukissedmyhand…that’showitfelt.Noonehaddonethatbefore,”Iwhisper.
Bolooksatmebriefly,hisfaceshroudedindisappointment.Asifhe’dwishedhehadn’tbeenthefirst.Whichstrikesmeasincrediblyselfless.I,ontheotherhand,enjoyedhearingthatIwastheonlyonewho’dgivenhimthatacceptance.Perhaps,ifIgivehimthefulltruthofwhatthatnightmeanttome,it’llredeemmesome.Hedeservestohearit,regardless.
“Itwastheveryfirsttimeanyonehadpaidattentiontothatpartofmeduringsex.Noneofmyhookupsormyexincludedallofmeintheirlust.Ifeltwhollydesiredwithyou,Bo.Notjustthebestbits.”
Silently,wepullintoaparkinglotbehindtherestaurant.
“Youdeservetohavethatineveryexperience,”hesaysadamantly,parkingthecarandtwistinghisupperbodytofacemehead-on.Ifeelmythroattightenattheintensityinhiseye,andIgrowlightheaded.“Thankyouforgivingthattome,whennoonehadgivenittoyou.”
Thestrangethingis,Idon’tthinkIdidanythingatall.BeingwithBowasoneoftheeasiestthingsIthinkI’veeverdone.Which,inalifefilledwithdaily,mundanechallenges,feelsrathersignificant.
“Ithinkwehandledthatquestionverymaturely,”Isay,liftingmychinandattemptingtocatchhiseye.
Bonods,hisusualrelaxedandhappydemeanourreturningslowly,startinginhiseyesandthenpullinguphislips.“Yeah,metoo.”
“I’mstarving,”Iwhisper,tiltingmyheadtowardtherestaurant.
“Yeah,metoo,”Bosays,hisstoiceyesheldonme
ThereshouldbeOlympicmedalsforthislevelofrestraint,Ithink,openingmydoor.CHAPTER22
We’reseatedatabackboothinarestaurantbustlingwiththelocaldemographic.A.k.a.wealthypeoplewhoalsoappeartoexistinclassyathleisure.AlotofLululemonandL.L.Bean.Basically,whoIwanttobewhenIgrowupandhavemoreexpendableincome.
It’sared-brickinterior,witharthangingfromawoodenrailaroundtherestaurantthatseemstobedonebylocalartists,allforsale.Therearemismatchedchandeliersthroughout,repurposedfromoldbaskets,itwouldseem.It’sverycute.
“Nomenu?”Iask,glancingaroundthetable.
“Youcanorderanythingyouwant.Evenketchupinacupifyou’dlike.”
“What?Whatsortofrestaurantletsyouhaveafree-for-all?”Iask,admiringtheexpensive-lookingstrolleratthetablenexttous.Ialwaysfeelalittleshameforlongingaftersuchnicethings,butIstilldo.Ithinkit’saconsequenceofgrowingupwithhand-me-downsandthriftstorefinds.Sometimes,Ijustwanttoblowmoneyonthingsforme.Especiallythemagenta,tealblue,andgreenanorakthatawomanatanothertableiszippingupasherfamilypreparestoleave.
“Youreyesareeverywhererightnow,”Bosays,grinning.“Whatareyoulookingat?”
“Oh,just…coveting.”
Bosnorts.“Howbiblical.”
“MaybethisiswhyI’veneverhadmoney.ThepowersthatbeknowI’dblowitall.Butit’sjustifiedifIspendsomeofmynewdisposableincomeonstuffforthebaby,right?Likethatstroller?Becausethat’strulybeautiful.”Itiltmyeyestotheleft,signallingforwhereBoshouldlook.
“Youknow,wealwayssaythebaby,andIkeepwonderingifweshouldnamethem.Likeanickname,maybe,untilwefindoutthesexandgivethemapermanentone.”
“I’dliketogivethemafairlygender-neutralfirstname,Ithink.AndIthinkI’dliketobesurprisedtoo?”
“Haven’twehadenoughsurprises?”Boasks,hisheadtiltingwithacrookedsmile.
Mystomachrumbles,pullingmyfocus.“Sohowdoweorderifthere’snomenu?Dowewaithereorgouptothecounter?”Iask.
“He’llbeoutinaminute,”Bosaysflippantly.“Sowe’renotfindingout,then?”
“Ifthat’sokay.”
“Ofcourse.Whateveryouwant.”
“Arethereanynamesyou’vealwaysliked?”Iask.
Botiltshishead,appearingdeepinthoughtwithhisbottomlippouted.“No,buttherearedefinitelynamesIdon’tlike.”
“Oh,same.Noexesorschoolbullies.Nocringeytelevisionshowcharacters.Noshittycoworkersormeancustomerservicereps.”
“Thatlastonewasveryspecific,”Bosays,pouringtwocupsofwaterfromthebottleleftonthetable.
“BrittanyfromStaplesknowswhatshedid.”
“Familynames?”heasks.“WhatwasSarah’smom’sname?Shewasspecialtoyou,right?”
“Marcie,andyes,shewas.ButI’dhavetobecarefulthere.MymomalwaysfeltabitjealousofhowcloseMarcieandIwere.Theywerebestfriends,butIthinkmymommightfeelleftoutifIwastouseMarcieasaname.”
“What’syourmom’sname?”Boasks,thenwinces.Ifeelittoo,thediscomfortofbeingsoinvolvedwithsomeoneandnotknowingawholelotaboutthem.“Maybeoneoftheseeveningsweshouldwriteoutafamilytreeorsomething.”
“HernameisJune.”
“That’sabeautifulname.”
“It’smymiddlename,”Isay,glancingaroundforourwaiter.“What’syours?”
“Ihavetwo.RobertHugoAugustDurand.”
Igoentirelystill.“August?”Iask.
“Yeah,it’sthemonthmyparentsmet.”
August.
Yes,myheartsounds.That’sright.
MarciepassedawayinAugust.Sarahmadeacommentaboutthebabyarrivingthentomakethemonthlesssad.AndmymotherandIhaveamonthinourname.Soit’spossiblytheperfectname.Itwouldhonoureachofus.Bo,hisparents,me,andmine.
“IloveAugust,”Isay.
“August,”Borepeats,pressinghislipstogetherashenods,asmileovertakinghisface.“Didwe…”Bositsstraighter,hisexpressionbeyondsmug.“Didwejustnameourkid?”
“August,”Iwhispertomyself,testingitaloudagain.
“Itshouldbeillegaltobesogoodatthisshit,”Bosaysconfidently.“August…Itfeelsright,doesn’tit?”
“Itdoes,”Iagree,smiling.Itcan’tbethateasy,right?
“Theretheyare!”afamiliar,boisterousvoicecallsfromthekitchendooracrosstherestaurant.IimmediatelylookuptofindKevinbouncingovertous.
“Kevin?”IaskBo,smilingwidelyasIstandtogreethim.
“It’shisplace.Getreadytoeateverythingyoucan.”
Kevinwrapsmeinabigbearhugbeforesettingmedown.“I’veheardwe’reonamissionforketchup,mydear.”
“Whendidyou—”IstarttoaskBo,butthenmystomachrumblesagain.
“Actually,Ithinkthebabychangeditsmind.Ijustwantcheese.Allofit.”
“Probablyavoidthesoftcheeses,though,”Bosays,holdingupafingerbeforeusingittoscratchhisear.“Youknow,anythingunpasteurised.”Istareathimfunny.“Itwasinthebabybook…nosoftcheeses.”
Kevinturnstome,eerilycalm.“Ifyouwantmeto,Icanhavehimremoved.”
“He’sprobablyright.He’smuchbetteratpregnancythanIam.”
“Well,allthesafecheeseswillbeyours.Arewethinkingofacheeseboard?Cheeseonpizza?Cheesysandwich?Pastacoveredincheese?”
“Oh,definitelypasta.”
“Tomatosauce?Thatgoodenoughtosatisfytheketchupcravingtoo?”
“Yes!”Iswayfromsidetoside.“It’snottoomuchtrouble,right?”
“Notatall,”hesays,pullingoutmychair.“Youtwolovebirdstalkamongstyourselves.I’llbebackwiththatand…”KevinpointstoBo.
“I’llhavewhatevershe’shaving,”Boanswers.
“Gotit.”
“Hecalleduslovebirds,”IwhisperwhenKevindisappearsoutofview.
“Didhe?”
Inod,watchingthewomannexttouspickupherbabyoutoftheaforementionedstrollerandtuckthemclosetoherchest.Shebounceswhileshushingthebaby,holdingthemagainstherwithonehandassheforkshersaladwithherother.
ItrytovisualisewhetherI’llbeabletodosuchathing,myhandsubconsciouslyrisingtomyshoulder.
“Youokay?”Boasks,hisvoicesoftandlow.
Ishakemyself,loweringmyhand.“Sorry…I’mfine.”
Bolookstowardthesametable,thesmallbabyinthewoman’sarms,andbacktome.Hepurseshislipsandnods,lettinghisheadhangbetweenus.“I’mworriedthatourkidwillbereallyintosports,runningorsoccerorsomething,andIwon’tbeabletokeepup.”
Idetachfrommyhazeandsnapbacktofocus.“What?No.Bo,you’reworkingonaprosthesisthathardlyfits,andyou’restilldoinggreat.Soonyou’llhaveonethatworksmuchbetter,andyou’llbeabletorunordowhateveryouwant.Plus,youkickwithyourrightfoot,notyourleft.Evenifwecomeagainstbarriers,we’llfigureitout.”
“I’mworriedthey’llbeembarrassed,though.Thattheirdadisdifferent.”
“No,they’llbeourkid.They’llhaveempathyandkindnessand—”Istopmyself,noticingBo’sproudsmile.
“Goon…”hesaysteasingly.
No,Idon’tthinkIwill.
“Youweresaying?”heasks,acheekysmiletippedintohisglassofwater.
“Wereyoutrickingmeintotalkingtomyselfjustnow?”
Henods,hisshouldersloweringasheplaceshiselbowsonthetableandhunchesforward.“Maybe…”
“Howdid—howcouldyoutell?I—”
“Youfrownedwhenshepickedupherforkthesecondtime,”heinterrupts.
Ilookaway,feelingfartooperceivedformyliking.Andyetapieceofmeisgratefulforit.It’ssomucheasiertocommunicateinsecuritieswhenyoudon’tneedtocommunicatethematall.Isn’tthatallweeverwant?Tobeseenandheard?Validated,evenwhenwe’renotabletoaskforit.
“Well,it’sdifferentforme.It’snotthesame.”
“Howso?”
“Thinkofalltheexpressionstherearejustformoms.‘She’sgoingtohaveherhandsfull!’Or‘you’regoingtoneedanextrasetofhands!’”Ituckmyhairbehindmyear.“It’sintimidating.TherearealotofthingsIcanbarelydoformyself,letaloneforsomeoneelse.Imean,you’veseenmewithbuttons.”
“We’regoingtofindsolutionsthough,right?We’llmakeitwork.Likeyousaid,we’llfigureitouttogether.”
“Yeah,Iknow,”Iagree,thoughIcanhearhowunconvincingIam.
“AscapableasyouthinkIam,it’sfarlessthanhowcapableIthinkyouare,”hesays,argumentatively.“Maybewhatwelackinlimbs,wemakeupforinenthusiasmandwits.Whoelsedoyouknowthatcouldgoswimming,launchabusinessplan,andnameababyallbeforelunch?”
It’salatelunch,though,tobefair.“Wedidmostofthosethingstogether,soIcanhardlytakecredit.”
“Andthat’swhatwe’regoingtokeepdoing.Workingtogether.That’sthewholepointofthis.”Hegesturesbetweenus.“Isn’tit?Beingagoodteam?”
“Yeah,”Iagree,alittlemoreconvincingly.
“Win,Bo,andGusaregonnatakeovertheworld,”hesaysinanobscenelydramatic,theatricalvoice.
“Gus?Seriously?They’vebeennamedforlessthantenminutes,andtheyalreadyhaveadorkynickname?”
“Whatwouldyouprefer?Aug?That’snotaname.Itsoundslikethesoundsomeonewouldmakeafterstubbingtheirtoe.”
Irollmyeyes,smilingtowardmylap
“Yeah,that’sright,”Bosaysarrogantly.“Admitit.Youloveit.”
Isighout.Idon’tknowifIloveit,orifIjustlovethathedoes.“Ido.It’scute.”
“Damnright.”
“Ifourfooddoesn’tarrivesoon,I’mgoingtoeatmyotherhand,”Isay,unfoldingmynapkin.
“Don’tberidiculous,”Bosaysexaggeratedly.“Youcaneatmine.It’sfarbigger.”CHAPTER23
SeventeenWeeksPregnant.Babyisthesizeofapear.
“Okay,buddy!”Isay,kneelingintheshallowendofthepool.“NowIwantyoutoballyourhandupinafist.”IhelpHenryfolduphisbiggerhand.“Perfect!Nowwe’regoingtoswimasnormal,okay?Ijustwanttotrysomething.”
Henrynods,presentingmetwothumbswithbothfistsbeforehefallsontohistummyandstartsswimmingtowardthefarendofthepool.Camhoversbythesideofthepool,waitingforhimthereandshoutingwordsofencouragement.
Henry’ssmallerhandisalotlikeminebutwithaslightlyless-developedthumb.It’sontheoppositesideofhisbody,too,soittakessometrialanderrortofindtherightmethodforhim
Butwedo.
Fortyminutesintohisonehourofprivateswim,he’sswimmingstraightandmaybeevenfasterthanhewasbefore.
Becauseofme.
“Youdidanawesomejobtoday,Henry!”Isay,kneelingnexttothepoolasheshakeswateroutofhisfloppyhairlikeapuppy,giggling.
“Iwassofast!”
“Youwere!”Isay,smilingupatCamoverhisshoulderasheapproaches.
“AndI’mnotbumpingintotheropeanymore.Iwentlikeanarrow!Straight!”
“Likeanarrow,exactly.”Isquishmyfacetogether,smilingsohardIcan’thelpit.“Greatjob,buddy.”
“Thankyou,Winnie!”Hethrowshisarmsaroundmyneck.“I’mgonnabeaswimmerlikeyou,”hesaysquietlybeforelettinggo.
Istandup,watchingHenrywalktowardtheglassdoorwherehisparentsarewaitingforhim.IwavetoCamandturntowalktowardthewomen’schangingrooms,buthestopsme.
“Hey,wait.Comemeethisparents.They’regoingtowanttothankyou.”
“Oh,no,Idon’t—”
“Win,c’mon.”Cambringshishandupintheair,wavingmetowardthem,inviewofHenry’sparents.It’dberudenottonow.
Ifollowbehind,wrappingatowelaroundmeasIdo.They’rebustlingwithexcitedconversationbythetimeImakemywayover,andHenryisburstingwithprideashismomwrapshiminatowelandahug.
“Hi,”Isay,wavingshyly.
“Tonya,James—thisisWin.”
“Winisthebestswimmerofalltime!”Henryshouts.
Hisparentslaugh.“Wesawthat,”Tonyasays,smilingatme.“Thankssomuchforcoming.Wecouldseehowmuchconfidenceitgavehimfromallthewayouthere.”
“AndCamsaysyou’reopeningacamp?”Jamesasks.
“Oh,well,notreally.It’smoreofadreamatthemoment.We’restartingtomakeplans.Nextstepisfindinginvestors,andthenwehavetofindproperty.It’sabiguphillclimb,but…someday,”Isay.
Theyimmediatelylookdisappointed.
“I’msorry.I’dlovetohaveHenryatanycamp.Maybeinafewyears,huh,buddy?”
Henrynods,hittingmewithabeamingsmilewithmissingteethandawrinklednose.
Hisdad,James,clearshisthroat.“I,uh,Idon’tnormallydothis,but…”Hepullsouthiswalletandhandsmeabusinesscard.“Ifyou’relookingforinvestors,pleasegetintouch.”Itakethecardhesitantly.“We’veseenwhatyoucandoinanhour,andI’mimpressed.Otherkidsshouldgetthatchance.”
“Oh,I—”Ialmostdismissmyself.InearlytellthemeverywayinwhichI’munqualified,unprofessional,incapable.Ieven,almost,handbackthebusinesscard.ButIdon’t.Istopmyself.
Maybeit’sbecauseofthehopeontheirfacesandthesmilestillstuckonHenry’s.
Maybeit’sbecauseofBo,tellingmehowcapableIam.Howpossiblethisis.
Mostly,Ithink,it’sbecauseofme.BecauseofhowmuchstrongerIfeellately.
IletmyselffeelproudofeverythingIdidwithHenrytoday,theyearsofschoolingthatpreparedmeforthis,thelifeI’velivedwithmyhandandtheexperiencesI’vegatheredjustbyhavingit.AndIholdmyheadhigh.
“Thankyou,”Isay.“I’lldefinitelybeintouch.Thankyou,”Iaddagain—becauseIcan’tresist.“Itwasgreattomeetyou,buddy.You’regoingtodogreatwithMr.Cam,here.”
“Thanksagain,”TonyasaysastheyusherHenrytowardthechangingrooms.
CamshutsthedoorandthensmilesatmewithItoldyousoeyes.
Ilookatthebusinesscardinmyhandandtakeadeepinhale.JamesBurrough,PresidentofBurroughFinancialHoldings.
“Win,Ithinkyou’regettingyourcamp.”
“Imean,hecouldeasilychangehismind.Istillhavetomakeaproposalandfind—”Istopmyselfagain.Sometimes…thingsarejustgoodthings.Icouldspendmywholelifewaitingfortheothershoetodrop,orIcouldbegintrainingmyselftoexpectthebest.Embracegratitudeanddropthescepticism.“This…thisisverycool,isn’tit?Thechancesofrunningintoyouhere,meetingHenryandhisparents…It’s…”
“Verycool,”Camsays,startingtoleadthewaytothechangingrooms.“Yousaid‘we’before.Doyouhaveabusinesspartnerorsomeoneelse?”
“DidI?”
“Yeah.Yousaid,‘we’restartingtomakeplans,’whenTonyaaskedjustnow.”
“Oh,I…”IconsiderwhatBoandIaretoeachotheranddecidetosimplifyitasbestIcan.“Myroommateandme.He’sinfinanceandishelpingmeout.”
“Oh,okay,”Camsays,hissmilecrookedandhiseyesnarrowedinonme.Uh-oh.Iknowthatlook.“Wouldyoumaybewanttograbadrink,then?Alatedinner?”
Yep,thereitis.
Igrimace,puttingahandonCam’sshoulderandpattinghimjustoncebeforeremovingit.“So,funnystoryaboutmyroommate.Actually…”
“Gotit,”Camsays,laughingunderhisbreath.“It’scomplicated,Itakeit?”
“Beyondcomplicated.”
“Wanttograbaveryplatonicdrinkandtalkaboutit,then?”
Ilaugh,lookinguptotheceiling.“So,actually,Ican’tdrinkeither.”
“Oh,”Camsays,hiseyesdroppingdowntomystomach.
“Yep…”
“Theroommate’s?”
“Yeah,”Ibreatheout.
“Thatiscomplicated.”Hewinces,smilingevenstill.
“Itis,”Isay.
“SonoWestcliffthisyear?”heasks.
Ishakemyhead,frowning.“Notthisyear.”
“Ah,well,we’llmissyou.”
“I’llmissittoo.”
“Youknow,ifyouwantedto,IbetHenry’sparentswouldratherhaveyouteachinghim.I’vegotaprettyfullschedulealready,andyoucouldtakeoverhislessons.It’stwohundredbucksaweekafterthepoolrental.”
“Twohundred?”Inearlyyell.“Foranhour?”
“I’mtellingyou…”Camsays,reachingdowntograbhistowelandflippingitoverhisshoulder.“Jameshasgotcampmoney.”
“I’dlovethat,”Isay.“Areyousure?”
“Justremembermewhenit’stimetohireforthatcampofyours,”Camsayswithawink.
“Absolutely,”Isay,smilingbackathim.
“I’lltextyouthedetails,then,”hesays.“Seeyouaround,Win.”
“Thankyou,”Ishoutafterhimwhenhedisappearsfromview.CHAPTER24
NineteenWeeksPregnant.Babyisthesizeofamango.
“Ifyoucouldteleportrightnow,wherewouldyougo?”Boasksmebeforefillinghisfacewithanotherspoonfuloficecream.
Weranoutofquestionsfromthedeckaweekago,havingfallenintothesameroutineforthepastmonthoflivingtogether.Everyevening,weeatdinner,tidyuptothesoundsofanotherrecord,thenaskaquestion.Onthecalmerdays,whenthemusicisjazzorsoft-rock,Bocompleteshissudokupuzzleonthecouch.Othertimes,whenthemusiccallsforit,heplaysairguitarordrumsandthrowshisbodyaroundthekitchenformyamusementasIfinishcleaningup.
Sinceweranout,Bo’sjustbeenmakingupthequestionsonthespot.
Thetwentyquestionstofallinlovecertainlydidwhatitsaysonthebox.
I’mprettyhopelesslyinlovewithBoatthispoint.Platonically,ofcourse.Mostly.Theprimal,babydaddyhormonessometimesdisagreeabouttheplatonicpart.Usuallywhenhegivesmefootrubswhilewewatchmovies,orwhenhiseyesdipdowntomycleavagewhentheyprobablyshouldn’t,orwhenhe…youknow…breathesnearme.
Evenstill,we’vebeenonourbestbehaviour.
“Ooh,goodone,”Isay,takingthecommunalspoonfromhimasheholdsthecartonoutforme.“Somewherewarmandonabeach,forsure.Butnotsomewherecheaptoflyto—sinceIcouldjustdothatmyself.MaybeGreece?Yeah,Greece.”
“IwasgoingtosayGreecetoo,”Bosays,takingthespoonbackfromme.“IwanttoseetheTempleofPoseidon.”
“Sure,”Ilaughout.“We’llgotogether.”
“Excellent,”hesays,hismouthfulloficecream.
“Oh,DoctorSalimcalled,bytheway.Theultrasoundisintwoweeks.”
“Howareyoufeelingaboutit?”Boasks.
“Uh,I’malittlenervous.ExcitedtoseeGus,though.”
“Whatday?”
Itsk,tryingtoremember.“Uh,notsure.ItwasaFriday.”Iliftup,movingtograbmyphone.“Ithinkthetenth?”
“Mydadwillbeherethen,”Bosays,swallowinganotherhelpingbeforehandingmebackthecarton.“Ifthat’sstillokay?”
“Bo,Ihavesworntoyouthatit’smorethanokay.Multipletimes.I’mexcitedtomeetyourdad.”
“Justchecking,”hesays,raisinghispalmsupdefensively.“I’llhavethatdayoff,though.SomaybewecandropDadoffsomewhereandpickhimupaftertheappointment.”
“No,don’tmissoutontimewithyourdad.”
“Areyoucrazy?AsifI’dmissanultrasound.Thisiswhentheylooklikeababy,right?Notalittlebeananymore?”
“Yeah,thinkso.”Itakethefinalscoopoficecream,finishingoffthecartonandsettingitonthecoffeetable.“Andhowareyoufeelingaboutturningthirty,oldman?”Isay,drapingmyfeetacrosshislap.He,rollinghiseyesatbothhisnewnicknameandmysilentdemand,beginsrubbingmyfeet.
“Honestly?Fine.Iwasthinkingaboutittheothernight,andI’mjustgratefultostillbehere,andforallthat’stocome.Mybirthdaylastyearwasprettyterrible.Duringthedarktimes.”Helaughsdryly.
Bohasrecentlytakentoreferringtolastyearasthedarktimes.I’vepickeduplittlebitsandpiecesofinformationhereandtherewithoutneedingtopryallthatmuch.Afterhewasgiventheall-cleartolivealone,threemonthspost-surgery,hisdadwentbacktoFrance.Andhewasalonealot,fromwhatitsoundslike.OtherthanDNDwithhisfriendsonceamonth,hedidn’treallyseeanyone.
“Anotheryearolderandwiser…”Isay,rollingmyneckashepresseshisthumbintothecentreofmyfoot.
“Andmorehandsome,”headds.
Isnort.“Ofcourse.”
Bosqueezeshishandaroundmyheel,buildspressure,thenreleases.Iletoutanot-so-subtlemoan,butI’mfartooblissedouttocare.
“There?”heasksteasingly.
“Ineedtogetnewshoesforwork.”
“Youneedtotellthemyou’repregnant,”Bosays.
“They’lltreatmedifferently…”
“Youmean,like,giveyouastooltositon?Ormaybelongerbreaks?Heavenforbid.”
“Watchit.Icouldeasilykickyourightnow.”Ifallbackagainstthecouch,lettingmyeyescloseasBowrapshisgianthandsaroundmyswollenanklesandmassagesthosetoo.
“Permissiontobringdownthemood?”
“Always,”Ianswer.AndImeanit.I’msodesperatetoknoweverythingBo’sgotstoredawaythatI’dlethimsayjustaboutanything.Ithinkhecouldunwraptheveryworstpartsofhimself,andI’dstillsithere,hangingoneveryword.
“Ikeepthinkingthat,asofmybirthday,I’llbeolderthanmymomeverwas.Ihatethat.”
Isitupslowly,peeringupathim.Hiseyesareheldabsentlyonthemantelacrosstheroom,hishandsbusyworkingmyanklesover.IconsiderwhetherIshouldmovemyfeetoffhislap,butitseemstomethatthisiskeepinghishandsoccupiedwhilehisthoughtswander.Likehewasthrowingstonesatthebeachallthoseweeksago.
MaybeBorequiresphysicaldistractionsinordertoopenup.
“Thatmustfeelreallystrange.I’msorry,”Ioffergently.
“It’sbizarretolivemorelifethanthepersonwhogavememine…”hesays,hisvoicefaroff.
“Isthataquote?”
“No,”Boshrugsoneshoulder,hisbrowsinchingtogether.“Justsomethingthat’sbeenrattlingaroundmymind.”
You’rebrilliant,Iwanttosay.“We’venevertalkedabouthowyourmompassed.Wouldyouwantto?”Iaskinstead.
“Notnow,ifthat’sokay.”Hesmileswistfully,turningtowardmeashepatsmyankle,signallingthathe’sdone.
Ishiftoffhim,sittingupandcrossingmylegsinfrontofme.Irestmycheekagainstmyhand,supportedbythebackofthecouch.“Ofcourse.Whateveryouneed.”
Helooksatmesideways,appreciationinhiseyes—mixedwitharequest.Forachangeofsubject,Ithink.
“Areyouexcitedtoseeyourdad?”
“Yeah,Iam.Ican’twaitforhimtomeetyou.”
MyexpressionsqueezestightasItuckmyfaceintomypalm,andmyheartsqueezestoo.“Oh,well,Ihopehelikesme.”
Boshakeshishead,scratchinghischin.“He’llloveyou.”
Nowit’stootight,theburstofjoyinmychest.Ihavetorubmypalmoverit,attemptingtoloosenit.I’mnotsureexactlywhensuchlovelysentimentsfromBobegantofeelslightlypainful,butthat’swherewe’reatthesedays.It’salongingsensation.Areminderofthelimitationsandparameterswehavetoabideby.Still,it’sbetterthanblushing.
Thesongplayingfromthediningroomfades,andthentheturntableclicksintoplace,signallingthatit’stimetofliptherecord.
“Wantmeto?”Iask,pointingovermyshouldertowardit.
“Nah,I’llgrabit,”Bosays,sittingupandadjustinghispants,pullingatthefabricbunchedaroundthetopofhisprosthesis’ssocket.Lately,he’sbeengoingwithouthisprosthesisaroundthehouse.Usuallywhenhe’sfreshlyshoweredorhasjustwokenup.Ilikeitwhenhedoes.Itfeelslikehistrustisbeingextended.
“Fred?”Bosays,pullingmyfocustowardhim.
Iwatchasheplacesanewrecorddownontheturntableandlinesuptheneedle.Heturnsadial,andthemusicstarts,anorchestrationofstringinstruments.Heturnstofaceme,hiseyessparklingbuthislipstightlysealed.Thenheholdsoutahand.“Comedancewithme.”
Mystomachnearlyleavesmebehind,flyingacrosstheroom.Allthemorereasontosayno,probably.“Idon’treallydance.”
“What,why?Twoleftfeet?”heasks,smilingwickedly.“StillmorethanIgot.”
Imakeapointtorollmyeyesexaggeratedly.
“C’mon…Please?”
I’mscrewed.
ThescarytruthofthematteristhatBocouldgetmetosayyestojustaboutanyrequestbyaddingapleasethatsweetandsincereattheendofit
“Idon’tknowwhattodo,”Isay,approachingjustasFrankSinatrabeginssinging“StrangersintheNight.”
“ThenI’lllead,”hesays,takingmysmallerhandinhisandpullingmecloser.“Foronce,”hemumbles.Ireachuptoshovehisshoulderbeforerestingmycheekagainsthischestnexttomyfreehand.
“Likethis?”Iask.
“Perfect,”hesays,curlinghisotherarmaroundmyback.
Werockfromsidetoside,rotatingslowlyinmindlesscirclesasthesongplayson.
“Thisisn’tsobad,”Iwhisper.
IfeelBo’schestriseonadeepbreathagainstmycheek.
Whenthesongbuildstothepinnaclechorus,drumspickinguptempoandhornsblaring,Botightenshisgriparoundmylittlehandandpushesmeawayfromhim,spinningmeincirclesoutinfrontofhimasIyelpandgiggleinsurprise.
“You’reanatural,”hesays,pullingmebacktohim,hishandfallingdangerouslylowonmyback.
“Donotdothatagain,”Ilaughout,fallingbackagainsthim.
There’ssomethingsointimateaboutbeingheldwithzeroexpectationsorreasonbeyondwantingto.SomethingsonaturalaboutBoandmemovingourbodiesinsequence,innorushtostepaway.Somethingsoinherentlysafeaboutbeinginhisarms.
Bomayslipupandcheckmeouteveryonceinawhile,withhiseyesheldonmeandhisjawtaught,buthehasn’toncetriedanythingsinceweagreedtoremainplatonic.He’stoorespectfulforthat.AndI’msuremyeyeshavedonefarworsedamagetohimoverthepastfewweeks.
Sowhenhepressesmeevencloser,dipshischintothetopofmyhead,andcurlshisarmsaroundmeinmoreofanembracethanadance,Ilethim,withzerohesitation,asIrelaxintothewarm,solidcomfortofhishold.
“Onemore?”heasks,hisvoicebroken.
Inodagainsthim.
Onemoresongfadesandblursintofive,ormaybeevenmore.I’velosttrack.Eventually,whentheturntableclicks,signallingtheneedtofliptherecordover,neitherofusmoves.Ifanything,Boholdsmetighteragainsthim.
“Youokay?”Iwhisperintohischestafterafewmomentsofsilence.
“I’mjusttryingtocomeupwiththerightwords,”hesays,leaninghischeekagainstthetopofmyhead,hisnoseonmyhairlinewithdeep,steadybreaths.“Tothankyouforeverything.”
Thewayhesayseverythingislikehereallymeanseverysinglething.
Tearsstingmynoseinstantly.“Ishouldbethankingyou,”Isay.“Forlettingmecrashhere,forbeingsokindtome,for—”IalmostsaylovingmebeforeIcatchmyself.“Forbeingsuchagoodfriend.”
“Win,Idon’tthinkyouunderstand.Ispentmybirthdaylastyearaloneonmycouch,drinkingandmiserable.Iwassolonely.Ifeltlikehalfaperson.I—”Hechokesupandclearshisthroat.“Ifelthopeless.”Hesniffles,andIfighttheurgetopullawaytolookathisface.Towipehistears,ifthereareany.“Butthenyoucamealong.”
“Ifthingsweresobad,whygotosomesillyHalloweenparty?”HowdidIgetsolucky?
“Haveyoueverbeensolowyoustopcaringsomuch?IthinkIhitrockbottom.Ifigurednothingelsewasworking,sowhynotdosomethingscaryonanightwhereIcouldbesomeoneelseforalittlebit?Acostumetomakelightofitall.”
ThesecondIgotolookupathim,hepullsmebackandtightenshishold.Hesqueezesmetohischestlikeafavouritestuffedanimalorblanket,tuckingmeunderhischin.Isplaymyfingersoutonhisbackandpressintohim,communicatingbacktohimthesameintensity.Clingingtohimjustthesame.
“I’msorrythingsweresobad,”Isaysoftly,hissweateragainstthecornerofmymouth.
IwishIknewyouthen,Ithinktomyself.
I’dhavefoundhimthere,inthatdarkperiod.Satwithhiminit.Untilveryrecently,Iwastheretoo.Perhapsthat’sallBoandIare.Twopeopleleavingbehindtheworst,lookingforwardtothegoodtocome.Butishereadytoleaveeverythingbehind?
BecauseIthinkImightbe.
“I’mnotsorry,”Bosays,surprisinglysteady.“Notanymore.”
Heletsmegoandstepsbackward.Evenwithred-rimmed,sulleneyes,hestillsmilesdownatme.Andoutofthemany,manysmileshe’sgivenme,thisoneisdifferent.There’ssomethingunmistakeablyhesitantaboutit,butmostly,it’sthehopefulnessamidstitallthatstrikesme.
Yes,Itellhimsilentlywithmyownmelancholysmile.Ifeelittoo.Andyes,it’sabsolutelyterrifying.Let’spretendwedon’t.Notyet.Nottonight.Notuntilwe’rebothcertain.
“I’ddoitalloveragaintobeatthatparty,”hesays.“Tomeetyou.TogetGus.”
Idamnneardisintegrate,myfacecrumplingasIshakemyhead.BecausehowcanIhearhimsaythatandnotfallinlovewithhimatthisexactmoment?HowcanItellmyselfhe’snotpurelygoodwhenhesaysthingslikethat?
“Bo…”Isay,lookingatourfeet.
“Iwould,”hesaysadamantly,noddingasifhewantsmetodothesame.“Wouldn’tyou?”
“Ifwehadn’tmet…ifthishadn’thappened,”Isay,placingahandonmysmallbump,“IthinkI’dhavebeenstuckplayingitsafeforever.”
Atearfallsfromhiseye,andwithouthesitation,Ireachuptobrushitawaywithmythumb,cradlinghischeekinmyhand.
“You’dhavegottenyourselfouteventually,Win.”Hepressesthecornerofhismouthtomywrist,releasingatremblingbreathagainstit.“Youcandoanything,”hewhispersagainstmypulsepoint.Andthewayhesaysanythingisasifhereallymeansanypossiblething
AndIbelievehim.
Itrulydo.
Ifeelmyowntearscome,slowandsteady.Tohidemyface,Ipressmyselfbackintohischest,andhemeetsmeimmediately,wrappinghimselfaroundmelikeashield.
Andwedancesomemore.
Tothesoundofnothingbuteachother’switheringrestraint.
Acceptingthatthisisthebestthingthatcouldhavehappenedtous.Togetusoutofourownpersonaldarkspots.Togiveuspurpose.Tofindeachother.
Becauseeventhoughwearen’ttogether,IcannolongerimagineaversionofmylifewithoutBoinit.Boissimplylovely.Plainandtrueandall-encompassing.
SowhyamIstillsoscared?
Angrywithmyself,Iwigglefreefromhishold.Ilaughweaklyashepretendstofightme,holdingtighterasheswaysmesidetoside.
“No,don’t,”hesays,hishandgoingfromshouldertoelbow.“Anotherrecord?”
IpathisshoulderatleastadozentimesasIshakemyhead,unsureofwhatelsetodotokeeptheoverwhelmingfeelingsandtruthsandfearsfromspillingout.HiseyesfollowthemovementofmyheadasIshakeitonelasttime,andhesighs,releasingme.
Iwalktowardthebathroomtoshowerwithoutlookingback,myheadhunglowandemotionscaughtheavyinmythroat.
LeavingBostillstandingthere.
Halfwaythroughmyshower,musicstartsplayingagain,andIfallagainstthetile,lettingthewaterwashovermeasIimagineBo’sbodyaroundmeinheretoo.
And,Irealise,I’mcompletelyfucked.CHAPTER25
“Ifuckingknewit!”Sarahsays,whisperinginchesfrommyface,herfingerwagging.
“Whateverhappenedtohello?”Iask,lookingaroundthehallwayshedraggedmeintothemomentBoandIsteppedthroughherfrontdoorforDNDnight.
“Youwanthello?Fine.Hi!Howareyou?Whendidyoutwostartsleepingtogether?”Sarahshakesmyshoulders,hersmileopenandwide.
“What?Wearenot,”Isay,shruggingheroff.“Stepback,weirdo!”Iwhisper-yell.
SheopensthedoortoCaleb’sofficeandshovesmethroughit.“Tellmeeverything.”
“Literallynothinghashappened,Sarah,”Isay,takingafewstepstogetmybalanceafterbeingpushed.“Wouldyoucalmdown?Fuckinghell.”
“Therewasalook.Isawit.”Shepointstohereyesinafury.
“Whatlook?”Iask,fallingacrossthetwo-seatercouchacrossfromCaleb’sdeskinfrontofadarkoak–panelledwall.
“Youtwowalkedin,andBolookedtowardthetablewhereweseteverythingup.Thenhecheckedinwithyou.Atiltofhisheadandasweetlittlesmile,thenyounodded.Hewasgettingpermissiontowalkoverthere.That’sthelookofamanonsomeone’sleash.Pussy-whipped!”
“Youdidnotjustsaypussy-whipped.Please,please,pleasetellmeyoudidn’t,”Isay,coveringmyface.
“Soyoudonotdeny,”Sarahsays,droppingintoCaleb’schairandthrowingherfeetupontothedeskinthecentreoftheroom.
“Idodeny.Themostwe’vedonesinceHalloweenishug.”Dancingishugging,justextended,right?Itdoesn’tcount.
Sarah’seyesnarrowonmeinsuspicion.“Youdogivegreathugs,”shewhispers.“Butnotthatgood.”
“Bo’sthoughtful.HewasjustmakingsureIwascoolbeforeheditchedmetoseehisfriends.Simpleasthat.”
“Soyou’retellingmethatIhaven’tseenyouinfortyyears”—it’sbeentwelvedays—“becauseyou’vebeenheldupinyourhousewithhimnotboinking?”
Ichoosetoletheruseofthewordboinkingslide.“We’vebeenhangingout,”Isaydefensively.“Wegoforwalkstothewatertotalk.WehangoutonthecouchandwatchnerdymoviesthatBolikes.I’malsostillworkingandgrowingahuman.Soyes,that’sallwe’vebeendoing.Sorrytodisappoint.”
“Howmuchtalkingdoy’allneedtodountilyoufigureitout?”
Ilevelherwithafierceglare.“Wehadtogettoknoweachother,right?Thatwasthewholefuckingpointofmovingintogether.”
“And?”Sarahasks.
“Andwhat?”
“Doyouknoweachother?”Shethrowsherarmsup,apparentlyexasperated.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Andwhat?”Isnap,crossingmyarmsinfrontofmychesttightly.
“Isheagoodguy?”
“Yes,obviously.”
“And?”
“Ohmygod,whatnow?”
“Doyoufeelsafewithhim?”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“Sowhat?”Iyell.
“Areyouinlovewithhim?”
“Yes!”
Wait,what?
“No!”Isay,panic-stricken.“No,no,no—”Butit’stoolate.Sarahisupfromherseat,slappingthedeskwithbothpalmslikeadrum.
“Vindication!”sheshouts,herhandslikeclawspointedattheceiling.
“Shutup,”Iwhisper,rubbingmyforehead.“Please,”Ibegpathetically.“Don’t.”
“Iwasright,”shesays,sittingbackdown.“WinnifredMcNultyisinlove.”
“Sarah,Ilovehim,butI’mnotinlovewithhim.”
“Bullshit,”shespits,shakingherhead.
“Imeanit,”Isay,myvoiceinvoluntarilypitchinghigher.“Imeanit,”Irepeat,steadier.
Sarahnarrowshereyesonme,swipinghertongueacrossherteethunderclosedlips.“Okay,then.Let’splayworst-casescenario.”
“Why?”Isighout.
“Humourme,”shesays,pushingthewheeleddeskchairaroundtheroomuntilshe’sdirectlyacrossfromme,ourkneesalmosttouching.She’sridiculousbutentertaining.I’llgiveherthat.“Worst-casescenario—ayearfromnow.Babyishappyandhealthy.Justthinkaboutyou.Tellme;nohesitation.”
“Um…”Iimmediatelyhesitate.
“No!”Sheflicksthesideofmyhead,andIswatheraway.“Justspeak!”
Fuck.
“Thisisstupid,”Isay,tighteningmyarmsacrossmychest.
“You’rebeingachild.Growupandfaceyourfeelings.YouloveBo.You’reinlovewithBo.Admitit.”
“No!”
“Why?”sheyells.
“Iwashurt,Sarah.Iwashurtsobadly,andyoudon’tevenknowthehalfofit.”Themomentthewordsleaveme,allthebreathinmylungsgoeswiththem.
“Sotellme,Win.Fuckingtellmesowecanworkthroughit.I’vebeenaskingforyearswhathappenedOrtellsomeone.Anyone.Aprofessional,preferably.Or,Bo,maybe—sinceheshouldknow.”
“Hemademefeelsmall”isallImanagetosay,tearsthreateningtopour.“Jackmademefeelsmallandstupidandincapable,andIneverwanttofeelthatwayagain.Igavehimmyself-esteemonagoddamnsilverplatter,andlikeafuckingidiot,Iwassurprisedwhenhetookitandatemewhole.”
“Jackisafuckwadwhowillburneverybridgeheeverbuilds.Youarenotanyofthosethings,Win.”
“Yeah,Iknowthatnow.IttookmealltheseyearssinceJacktorememberwhoIamandwhatI’mnot.Idon’t…Idon’twanttoforgetagain.”
“Youwon’t.”
“Imight!BecauseIkeepforgettingalotofthings,apparently!Like,forexample,thefactthatBoismostlikelystillinlovewithyoursister-in-law.Thatnightwespenttogethermeantsomethingtousboth,butthat’sjustit.Itwasanight.HewaswithCoraforyears.Andeventhoughshebrokehisheartandlefthimduringtheworstpossibletimeofhislife,hestillcaresforher.Still.Thatloyalty.That…typeofconnection…Ican’texpecthimtofeelmoreformeafterjustafewmonthsofbeingthrustintothissituationtogether.Ican’tlivewiththethoughtthathemightwishIwasher.ThatIwasjusttheavailableoption.”
Sarahsighs,hereyesheldonmeasherchestfalls.“Win…”
“No,it’sfine.I’vegotithandled.”
“Win…you’vegottotalktohim.”
“Ican’t,”Iwhisper,myvoicebreaking.“Ican’tdoitagain.Ican’ttalktohim.Ican’tputmyheartonanotherplatterandexpectadifferentresult.”
“Just,tellmethis.Whatisyourworst-casescenario?”sheasks,hereyesheavyandlipspoutedinconcentration.“Ayearfromnow,youwakeupand…”sheadds,wavingmeon.
That’sthescarything.Atfirst,IwantedtoanswerthatitwaslettingBoin,justtobeprovenright.AtypeofrightI’dneverwanttobe.Thathe’dbecarelesswithmyheartandmyfeelings,andthatayearfromnow,I’dwakeupandrealiseI’ddoneitagain—fallenforthewrongtypeofman.Butthat’snolongerit.
Theworst-casescenarioisnothavingfoundoutwhatbeingwithBocouldbelike.
“SeeingBoinlovewithsomeoneelse.Thathe’llhaveabeautifulgirlfriendwholovesmykidtoo,andthey’lltakethemforwalksonthebeach,anddanceinhisdiningroom,and—andI’llbesomewhereelse.Alone.Missinghim.Missingwhatcouldhavebeen.Realisingthathewasreadytomoveon…andIwasn’thisfirstchoice.”
“DoyoureallythinkBowouldletitplayoutthatwayifheknew?Because,fromwhereI’mstanding,thatmanlooksatyoulikeyouhungthemoon.Morethanthat.Thesuntoo.I’veneverseenanyonelookatanotherpersonlikethat.”
“Idon’tthinkhe’dintendtohurtme,”Iwhisper,mostlytomyself.“Butwedon’tknowifhefeelsthesame.Idon’tknowifit’sjust…attraction.”
“It’snotlustinhiseyes,Win.It’ssomuchmorethanthat.”
“Whatifit’sjusthormones?Whatifit’sjustsomeprimal,lizardpartofmybraintellingmetostayclosetothemanIprocreatedwith?WhatifIpopthisbabyout,andsuddenly,he’ssomeintolerabletoad?”
“Doyouseriouslythinkthat,Win?Thatwomenarejustskinsuitsoperatedbypoorinstinctandhormones?”Sherollshereyes,sittingstraighter—inaman’swide-spreadposture.“Womenaretooemotional,”Sarahsaysinadeepervoice.“Theycan’tbeinchargewhentheirbodiesmakethemgocrazyonceamonth.”
“No,”Isaypointedly,glaringather.
“Andwhyareweactinglikehisemotionsshoulddictateyours?I’maskingwhatyoufeel.Nothim.”
“Right.Yeah,”Irespondweakly.
“Sosayit.Sayitoutloud.Behonestwithyourselfandme.”
Itakeadeepbreathin,straighteningmyshoulders.Still,myvoicecomesoutsoftandtimid.“IloveBo.”
“Evenifhe’sinlovewithsomeoneelse?”
“Yes,”Isay,patheticasitmaybe
“Evenifhe’snotreadytoloveyoubackthesame?”
Inod,staringupattheceilingasIplacemyhandsonmyneck.“Butisn’tthatbeyondstupid?”
“Loveisstupid,Win,”shesayssoftly.“Sowhatareyougoingtodoaboutit?”
Icrumpleintomyselfwithapatheticwhine.“Doyoureallythinkhelooksatmelikethat?You’dtrulybet—”
“Ido,Win.Ido,andIloveitsomuch.”Sarahreachesout,untanglingmyarmsfoldedtightagainstmychest.Shegripsbothofmyhandsandholdsthem.“Youdeservethis!”shesays,shakingmealittleuntilIsmileforher,asforcedasitmayfeel.“AndIknowthisisalsoapregnantthing,butyou’reglowing.Youseemsomuchlighter.Whenyoutwosteppedinheretogether,itwasn’tlikeitwasafewmonthsago.Then,itwasliketwopeoplewithchemistryandasexysecret.Now,youlookliketherealdeal.”
“I’mscared,”Iwhisper,crinklingmynoseasweholdeyecontactlightly
“Iknow,”Sarahsays,brushingherthumboverthebackofmyhand.“ButIthinkifyouaskhim,he’llbegentlewithyourheart.”
Inod,inhalingdeeply.
“Ialsothinkyou’renotthatgirlwiththesilverplatteranymore.You’vegrownpastthatversionofyourself.AndIthinkassholeslikeJackwouldtakeanyoneaskindasyouandtrytotwistthemintosomethingugly.That’swhatpeoplelikehimdo.Itisn’tyourfaultyoutriedtoseethebestinhim.Orthatyoudidn’twanttobealone.You’vegottaforgiveyourselfforthat.”
Irollmyeyesup,feelingatearslipout.“Fuckinghell,”Iwhimper,halflaughing.
“Toomuch?”Sarahasks,laughingsoftlyatme.
Ishakemyhead,liftingoffthecouchandthrowingmyarmsaroundhershoulders.“Iloveyou,”Isay.
“Iloveyou,”sherepeatsbacktome.“Andthat’snevergoingtochange.”
WhenIsitagain,neitherofusmovesorspeaks.Wejustletthemomentlinger,encouragingsmilesreflectedbackatoneanother.“I’mgonnatry,”Isay,sniffling.“I’mnotsurewhen,becausedoingitsoberwillbeachallengeandahalf.ButI’mgoingtotellhimhowIfeel.Eventually.Soon,ifIcan.”
“AndI’llbetheretosayItoldyousowhenthatmantriestogetyouknockedupalloveragain.”
Irollmyeyes,butIcan’thelpbutgrin,allthewhileimaginingwhatcouldbe.Thebest-casescenario,foronce.
TheversionoflifewhereBoandIwalkhandinhandintosomethingnewforusboth.Slow,assured,anddelicatewithoneanother.Wheremaybewewoulddothisonpurpose.Maybeafewtimes—ifwe’reanygoodattheparentingsideofthings.
AndIcanseeit,clearasanymemory.We’dbuildourkidatreehouseinthespringanddrinkwineonunhurriedsummereveningsonthebackporch.Ourlimbsintertwinedaswesitonaswingingbench,watchingthemplay.Alifewherewe’dmakeloveasmanytimesaswefindeachotherwithteethandforceandpassion.Yearsandyearsspentstillgettingtoknowoneanother,unlearningandrelearningeachotherasthedecadesgoby.Uncoveringtheintricatelayersanddeepestspotsuntileverydarkenedcornerisfound.Themessandthechaosandthebeautyofalifewelllived—alifeshared.
I’dlikeitverymuch.
Somuchitscaresmeevenmore.
Butnotenoughtonottry.
“MaybeyoucouldtellBohowyoufeelonhisbirthday?Tieabowaroundyourtitsandlethimunwrapyou.Youmustbedyingtofogupthoseglassesofhis.”Andshe’sback.
“Ineedyourhelpwiththat,actually.”Sarahgapes.“No,”Isaysharply,silencingher.“Notthat.Aparty.I’mgoingtoaskBo’sdadtokeephimbusyduringthedaysoIcansetupandhaveafewofBo’sfriendsover.Hedeservessomethingtocelebratehim.Willyouhelpme?”
“Obviously!Bo’soneofusnow.Ican’tbecaughtslackingonabirthday.”
Ismileupatherbeforelookingaroundtheroomabsently,thentothedooronasteadyinginhale.“Shouldwegetbackoutthere?”
“Nah,letthemmissus.”Shesmilesmischievously.“Oh,Iforgotinallthechaos…Didyouwanttotakeabathwhileyou’rehere?Ipickedupyourfavouritestuff,justincase.”
“Icouldkissyourightnow,”Isaytoher,reachingtogentlypathercheek.
“I’lltakethatasayes,”shesays,pushingoffherkneestostand.“AndsavethekissingforBo.”Shesnickers,walkingtowardthedoor.CHAPTER26
TwentyWeeksPregnant.Babyisthesizeofabanana.
I’mfrozen,standingonthefrontstep.I’vebeenhereforenoughtimethatachildridingtheirbikeoutsidehasnowpassedbehindmetwice
ItisdeceptivelyniceforMarch—afool’sspring,ifyouwill.FellowCanadianswillditchtheheavywinterjacketsandbootsandinevitablyfallintoadeep,darkdepressionwhenthesnowreturnssomedaynextweek.Everyyear,we’reshockedbysuchathing—asifthecollectivememorydevelopsamnesia.ButIlikethataboutushumans.Howwillfullyblindwecanbetothegloomyrealitiesahead.
Inreality,wearen’tsafeuntilApril.Ormaybeevenuntilaftermybirthday,inMay.
Still,atleastI’mnotliterallyfrozenonthefrontstep—dreadingmeetingBo’sdad.
WhileIwasatworktoday,Bopickedhisdadupfromtheairport.He’sstayingwithusforfourdaysbeforehegoesbacktoFrance,enoughtimetoseehissonringinhisthirtiethbirthday.Bo,onthenightwemet,calledhisfather,Robert,hisbestfriend.He’salsohisonlylivingfamilymember.Sozeropressuretoimpresstheguy.Nope,nonewhatsoever.
He’sgoingtoloveyou.
Damn,Isurehopeso.
Whenthelittlegirlonherbikepassesathirdtime,eyeingmesuspiciously,Idecideenoughisenough.
“Hello?”Icallout,steppinginsidethefrontentryway.
Ihearmusiccomingfromthediningroomandtheelectricwhirlofsomesortofmachinefromthekitchen.Astandmixer,Ithink.Doweevenownoneofthose?God,Ishouldprobablyoffertocooksometime.
Ishrugoffmyjacketandshoesandfollowthesoundsoflaughtercomingfromthekitchen.
“Hi,justme,”Isay,turningthecorner.InthekitchenisthemostgorgeousmanI’veeverseen…andhisson.
Holymotherof—No,actually.HolyfatherofBo.
“Hey!”Bosays,circlingthecountertostandnexttome,smilingbrightlyasalways.“Win,thisismydad,Robert.Dad,thisisWin.”BopronouncesRobertwithaFrenchaccent,andInearlyswoon.There’snotenoughoxygeninthisroom.Heshouldhavepreparedme.Ishouldhaverequestedfamilyphotos.
“Itissogoodtomeetyou,Winnifred,”Robertsaysinathickaccent,liftinghisflour-anddough-coveredhandsintheair.“I’dshakeyourhand,butI’vebeenkneadingbread.”
“Dadwenttomakehimselfasandwichandsawwewereoutofbread,”Bosays,bendingtospeakintomyear.“Ididoffertogotothestore.”
RoberthasallofBo’ssimilaritiesinheight,naturalcharm,andbuild,buthishairandbeardarepepperedblackandgreyandtrimmedshorter.Theyalsohavedifferenteyesinshapeandcolour—Bo’swidehazeleyestoRobert’ssmallerdeepbrown.ThedeeplinesandcreasesaroundRobert’slipsandeyesspeaktoaman,likehisson,wholovestolaugh.IfthisisasneakpreviewofwhatBowilllooklikeinthirty-ishyears,thenIbettergettoworklockingthatshitdown.
ToobadBodoesn’thavetheaccent.
Though…Iwonderifhe’dspeakFrenchinbedifIaskednicely.
Ohmygod,Win.Focus!It’syourturntospeak!
“It’sgoodtomeetyoutoo,”Isqueak,swallowing.“Bo’stoldmesomanywonderfulthings.Andplease,callmeWinorFred.”
Idon’tmissBo’scrookedsmirkwhenIofferhisfatherthenicknamethat,untilveryrecently,Iwasnotfondof.Idon’tmiss,either,thewarmaffectioninRobert’seyesastheylandonmystomach.
Robertpicksuptheballofdough,passingitbackandforthbetweenhishands,aneyebrowquirkedtowardhisson,thesamelopsidedsmileunderhismoustachethatIknowwell.“Healsospeaksofyouvery,verywell…”
Boclearshisthroat.“Howwaswork?”heasks,walkingbehindmetowardthediningroom.
Ipeekmyheadaroundthecornertowatchashepullshisworkchairawayfromhisdeskandbringsitovertome.“Oh,uh,fine.”Isayashegesturesformetosit.Myfeetwerekillingme,butthismightbeatadoverthetop.“Theto-goguycameback,”Isay,givinginandsitting.
“That’sthethirdtimethisweek!”Bosaysexcitedly.
Robertlooksbetweenusblankly.
“There’samanwhocomesintothecaféandorderseverythingtogobutalwaysstaysforhoursandworks.”AssoonasIsayitoutloud,Irealisehowmundanethatstoryreallyis.WhenItoldBoabouthim,hesortofpickeditupandranwithit.Wecreatedawholebackstoryforthestranger.Botheorisedthathe’ssecretlyinlovewithoneofourotherpatronsandiswaitingfortherighttime,andIagreed.
Littleclosetohome,actually,nowthatIthinkaboutit.
Butregardless,Boisgoodatthat.Takingsomethinglittleandmakingitfeelgrandandimportant.Justlikehe’sdonewitheverystepofthepregnancy.Everyanswertoournightlyquestions.EverythingisworthcelebratingtoBo.Worthgettingexcitedabout.
“Butyeah,goodday.”IturntolookatRobert.“Howwasyourflight?”
Henodsseveraltimes,coveringaglassbowlwithateatowel.“Good,good,fine.Thefoodontheplanewasterrible,butitwasasmoothjourney.”
“IseewhereBogetshiscookingskills,”Isay,pointingtothebowl.
Robertsmilesproudly,hisfacepointeddowntohisfeet.“Ah,well.”
“I’mnothalfasgood,”Bosays,throwingachocolatechipintohismouth,cradlingthejarfromthepantryagainsthischest.
“Idon’tknow.I’mstillthinkingaboutthatsoupyoumadeondayone,”Ireply.
“Thebutternutsquash?”heasks,andInod.“Whydidn’tyousayso?I’dhavemadeitagain.”
“Oh,well…youalreadycookformeeveryday.I’mnotgoingtostartmakingrequests.”
“I’llmakeitthisweek,”hesays,throwinganotherchocolatechipintotheairandcatchingitbetweenhisteeth.Iclapforhimashecurtsiesbackatme,hishandstillgrippedaroundthejar.
Robertlaughsunderhisbreath,glancingquicklybetweenus.IrealiseimmediatelythatI’veprobablyinterruptedtheirtimetogetherandshouldmakemyselfscarce.
“I’llgiveyoutwosomespace,”Isay,pushingoffthechair’sarmreststostand.
“No,”Robertsays,haltingme,hiseyebrowspressedtogetherinobviousoffence.“No,no,no.Sit,please.Please,”herepeats,openingthefridge.“ThisiswhatRobbieandIdo.Wetalkandcook.Youmuststayandprovideuswithsomefreshmaterial,”hesays,pullingouttheeggcartonandmilk.“Howdoesquichesound?”
Isettlebackintothechair.Bo’shandfallstomyshoulder,pattinggentlybeforehewalkstowardacabinetandpullsoutacuttingboardandplacesitonthecounternexttohisdadandditcheshisjarofchocolatechips.
“Quichesoundsdelicious,”Isay,smilingatbothmenandcrossingmylegsunderme,settlingbackagainstthechair.
Thequichewasdelicious.Ihadthreeservings,andIcouldhavehadmoreifmystomachwouldallowit.IttookaboutanhourtoprepareafterBoconvincedhisdadtousethecrustwehadinthefreezerinsteadofmakingitfromscratch.Allthewhile,Igotafront-rowseattotheirfamily’sdynamic.
They’resurprisinglyaffectionateforfatherandson.Alotofhandsacrossshoulderstopassbyoneanother,afewquickpatsofRobert’shandagainstBo’scheektoencouragehimorteasehiminequalmeasure.
RobertislesstimidthanBois.Hehasabooming,throatyvoiceandisn’tafraidtotalkwithhishands.Orhiswholebody,forthatmatter.Buthe’sstillgotagentlepresenceabouthimtoo,likeBo.Thewaytheyinteractmakesmeevenmoreexcitedtohaveakidtothrowintotheirdynamic.Itwouldbeveryfunnytoaddathirdcharactertotheirroutine.
Afterdinner,themenchoosearecordtogetherandbegincleaningup,insistingIrestsomemore.IfetchabottleofnailpolishfrommyroomandsetmyselfuponthefloorinfrontofthecoffeetableasEdithPiafplaysfromtheadjoiningroom.
Robertjoinsmesoonafter,kickedoutofthekitchenbyhisson,balancingaglassofwineashedancesintotheroom,hisbodywalkingintimewiththedramaticFrenchsinger.
“Shewasmywife’sfavourite,”hesays,pointingtotheotherroom.“That’showIknewJoannawastheone.Excellenttaste.Inmentoo,obviously,”Robertsays,hisvoiceechoedbythewineglasshe’sspeakinginto.
Ilaugh,foldingapieceofpapertoweltoputmyhandovertopof.“BotoldmethatyouandJoannafellinloveveryfast.Tendays,right?”
“Yes.Tendaysisallittooktogofromstrangerstomarried.”Hetakesalongsip,hiseyesheldonmineandteasingjustlikehisson’s.“Seemsyou’rebothtakingaslowerpace.”
Ibitemylip,lookingbackdownatmynailpolishonthetable,openingit.
“Yes,ignoretheoldman’ssillycomments.Verywise.”
Ismile,shakingmyheadasIdiptheapplicatorintothemauvepolish,pinchingitbetweenmythumbandthesideofmypalminmyrighthand.
“Wasthisfromanaccident?OrsicknesslikeBo?”heasks,pointingatmyrighthand.
“Oh,no.Frombirth.”
“It’sfunny.Bodidn’tmentionit.Eventhoughhespeaksofyoualot.”
Iraiseabrowathim,shakingmyheadathisblatancy.“I’msureitwould’vecomeup.”ButIsortoflovethatitdidn’t.
“Dieu,j’adorecettechanson!”Robertexclaims,jumpingfromhisseat.“Monteleson,monfils!”
IdroppedFrenchaftergradeten,butI’mfairlycertainRobertjustsaidhelovesthesongandaskedBototurnitup.OrthathelovescatsandaskedBoforasliceofpie.Oneofthosetwothings.BasedonthefactthatBoappearsfromthekitchenandmovestoturnthevolumeup,IthinkIgotitrightthefirsttime.
Boflipsateatoweloverhisshoulderbeforeleaningagainstthearchwaytothekitchen,smirkingatRobertperformingwithgusto
RobertdancesovertoBo,claspingahandaroundhisshoulderasthesongbuildstowardthechorus.Thenbothmensing,orrathershout,thechorustogether.Robertsomehowmanagestonotspillanyofhiswineasheshakesbotharmsupintheairabovehishead,usinghiswholebodyasaninstrument.
Ilaugh,bobbingmyheadalongtothemusic,astheystartperformingsomesortofterriblecan-canroutinesidebyside.
“Youmustimagineitwithallfourlegs,yousee!”Robertshoutstomeoverthesong.“Andalsothefeathersandjewelsandwhateverelse,”headds,gesturingtohistorso.
Bokickshimhardwithhisprostheticfoot,andRobertgapesathisson,wincingashelaughs.
“Seemslikeitkicksjustfine,”Bosays,shruggingawayfromhimandgoingbacktothekitchenashesmilestohimself.
Itwistthelidofmynailpolishclosedandbeginblowingonmynails.Robertlingersnexttotherecordplayer,tracingonefingeralonghiswife’scollection,pullingoutafewandinspectingthemashegoes.
Oncethemusicends,RobertandBojoinmeinthelivingroom.Afterafewstoriesaboutthejazzbandhe’splayingwithbackinParisandahandfulofsuggestivecommentsalludingtotherelationshipbetweenBoandme—orlackthereof—Robertexcuseshimselfforbed.Claiminghe’sevadedhisjetlaglongenough.
WhichisexactlythemomentIspottheextrapillowandblanketslaidoutonthecornerchairandrealiseRoberthasBo’sroomforthenextfewdays.Untilnow,Ihaven’tthoughtofoursleepingarrangementsforthevisit,butthere’snowayBoshouldbeonthecouch.Hewon’tfit.
“You’renotseriouslyconsideringsleepingonthecouch,right?”
“Don’tactlikeyouhaven’tdiscoveredthemagicalsleepingpowersofthiscouch.”
“Foranap,maybe,butit’snotatallbigenoughforyoutosleepon.You’llmessupyourback.”
“IdidfindmyselfwishingIcoulddetachbothbottomhalvesofmylegs.”Helaughs,bringinghisglassofwatertohislips.
“Seriously,though,you’llbemiserable.”
“I’llgotothestoreafterourappointmenttomorrowandpickupanairmattress.”
“Icantakethecouchtonight,”Ioffer.
“What?Noway.”
Irollmyeyesathisimmediatedismissal.“Whynot?”
“Idon’tknow,”hesays,drippingwithsarcasm,“maybebecauseI’mnotmakingmypregnant—”Hestopsandtenses,thenwithaquickshakeofhishead,startsagain.Itwaslessthanasecondforthewholeseriesofmovements,butInoticeditallinagonisingdetail.Whatwashegoingtosay?Mywhat?“I’mnotgoingtomakeapregnantwomansleeponthecouch,”hesaysfirmly.
C’mon,Win.Threesecondsofbravery.Aninnocentenoughoffer.Youcandothis.
“Well,wecouldsharemybed…”Isay,forcingmyvoicetosoundindifferent.ButthenBostudiesmefartoointently.Hisbrowsknittedtogetherandhisheadtilted.AndIfeelmyselfstrugglingtonottakeitbackorchaseitwithsomeoverwroughtdisclaimer.
“Wecould,”Bosays,nodding,hiseyesstillnarrowedonme.“Areyousure?Youwouldn’tmind?”
IthinkIcanfindthekindnessinmyhearttoshareabedwithyou,sure.
“Yeah,whynot?”
“Totallysure?”
“Yep,”Isay,clearingmythroat.
“Atleastuntiltomorrow,whenIgotothestore.”
Ishrugoneshoulder.“Soundsgood…I’mgoingtotakeashowerbeforebed.Um…feelfreetosetupyourstuffinmyroom.I’llsleeptuckedagainstthewall—Ilikeitbetterthatway.”IhavetoconsciouslystopmyfeetfromrunningtothebathroomRoadRunnerstyleonceI’mdonespeaking.CHAPTER27
IbrushmyteethtwiceanddoafarlongerskincareroutinethanIusuallydoinordertobuymyselfsomeextratimetocalmdown.TheonlythingthatgetsmeoutofthebathroomistheconcerningthoughtthatthelongerIspendinherepost-shower,thehigherthechancethatBothinksI’mavoidingsharingabedwithhim.
WhichIam,butnotforthereasonshemaythink.
Iknockonmybedroomdoorhesitantly,evenafterscurryingacrossthehallinnothingbutatowel.
Ihearamumbled“uh-huh”fromtheothersideofthedoor,andsoIwalkrightin,summoningasmuchconfidenceasIcan.
Mybedroomislitdimlybythelamponthenightstand,castingtheroominasoft,glowinghue.Boislaidoutonthebednexttothenightstand,restingabovehispalegreycomforter.Onehandisholdinghissudokupuzzlebookandtheotherisinhishair,scratchingabovehisear.Apencilisbetweenhisteeth,causinghislipstoformastraight,thinline.He’swearingadarkpurpleT-shirt,blackbasketballshorts,andhisglasses.Fuckme,thoseglasses.Inoticethathisprosthesisisleanedupagainstthewall,nexttomydresserandthemess-heapofclothesIforgottopickupthisafternoon.
Ihopehedidn’tjudgemetooharshlyforthat.
“Sup,”hesays,hisvoiceexaggeratedashebringsthepenciloutofhismouth,jotssomethingdown,thenplacesitbackbetweenhisteeth.He’syettolookuptogreetme,andIsmiletomyself,seeinghiminmyroomsocomfortable.Asifit’scompletelynaturalforhimtobehere.
ButIdoenjoywhathappensthemomenthedoeslookuptofindme,probablywonderingwhyI’msoquietasIslinkintotheroom.ThepencildropsoutofBo’smouthandclatterstothefloorashestares,slack-jawed,andhiseyespracticallydoubleinsize.Shakinghimself,heshutshislipstight,unabletokeephiseyesstill,switchingbetweenthetowelvaguelylookingovermyshoulder,asifhe’sinsomesortofself-imposeddissociation.
“No,you’regood,”Isay,straighteningmyshoulders.“Just,uh,closeyoureyesforasecond.”Oncehedoes,IdropmytowelandpullouttheonlyremotelysexypyjamasIown.It’sjustablackslipdress,butit’stheclosestthingtolingerieinadrawerotherwiseoccupiedbyripped,baggyT-shirtsandbikershorts.
It’snotthatIthinksomethingmighthappenifIwearthis“nightgown.”Withoutaconversationfirst,IhighlydoubtBo’sgoingtosuddenlymakeanysortofmoveonmeaftersuchclearboundarieshavebeenestablishedandupheld.AndI’mcertainlynotgoingto.I’malreadyusingallmycouragejusttosharearoomwithhim.It’smoreofalittlereminder…
Hey,Ihaveabody.Youlikeit,right?
WhenIturnbackaround,Bo’seyesareclenchedshutandhe’srepeatedlystabbinghisforeheadwiththerubber-eraserendofthepencilthathefetchedofftheground.
Helikesit,allright.
“Allclear,”Isay,pushingmylipstogetherinordertonotlaughathistorturedexpressionthesecondheopenshiseyesandtakesinthenightgown.Thelookacrosshisface,beforehecorrectsit,isthetiniest,mostwonderfulreminderofthedesirabilityIfeltallthosemonthsago.AllIcandoishopehewantsmyheartjustasmuchasheseemstowantmybody.
Boclearshisthroat,forcinghisattentionbacktothebookinhishand,tappingthecornerofitwithhispencilinaquick,unsteadyrhythm.
IattempttogetintobedasdelicatelyasIcan,climbingovertheshallowbaseboardanduptowardmypillow.Ilieonmyleftside,facingBo,proppedupontheridiculousnumberofpillowsInowsleepontoavoidheartburninthenight.
Pullingmyduvetovermybottomhalf,Istretchmynecktoseehispuzzle.“Four…”Ipointtoanemptyspot.“Right?”
“Oh,uh,yeah,”Bosaysdistractedly.“Thanks,”headds,fillinginthesquare.
WhenImoveaway,hiseyesfollowme,droppingdowntoadmirethehollowspacebetweenmybreasts.Hebiteshislipandshufflesupthemattress,sittingstraighteragainsttheheadboard.“Willthelightbotheryou?”heasks,hisvoicealittlehoarse.“Icanturnitoff.”
“Allgood,”Isay,pullingoutmyphone.
“I’malmostdone.”
It’snotuntilIcatchmyselfyawningforthethirdtimethatIdecidetolookupfrommyphone.Bo’ssudokubookisclosedonhislap,andhe’swearingaquiet,lazysmileashelooksdownatmyphone.
I’vebeenlookingatbabyitemsonline,compilingalistthatSarah’sinsistedIneededtomakeforsomesortofgiftregistry.Iwasdreadingit,honestly,butIsortofgotsuckedintoitthemomentIrealisedhowrealitmadeitallfeel.Lookingatallthethingsourbabycouldbeclothed,held,orwrappedin.ItbecamemoreaboutAugustandlessaboutme.
“Sorry.Idisappearedintomyownworld.Areyoureadyforbed?”Iask.
“Thosearecute,”Bosays,pointingtothelittlepairofcrochetedshoes.IwasdebatingwhetherIcouldmakethemmyselfbeforerememberingtheblanketIhavetokeepupwith.
“Olivegreenorsage?Ican’tdecide.”
“Olive,Ithink.”
Iaddthemtothelist.“Isentyoualinksoyoucanaddstuffonheretoo.Youdon’thavetobut—”
“Howdowestopourselvesfromjustbuyingallofthis?”Boasks,pluckingmyphoneoutofmyhand.“Lookatthisbear!Gusneedsthisbear.”Hetapsaddtowishlist.
“Oh,wait!IhavetoshowyouwhatIfound…”Isay,takingthephonebackandscrollingupthelistbeforeturningitbacktowardhim.
“TheABCsofD&D,”Boreads,hissmilegrowing.“Didyouaddthisalready?”
“Obviously.”
Helooksatme,hiseyestwinklingeveninthedimlylitroom.“Thankyou.”
Ilockmyphoneandholditouttohim.“Couldyouplugthatinforme?”
“Sure,”hesays,doingjustthat.
Isitup,fixmypillows,andturnawayfromhimtofacethewall,curlingmyselfaroundthebodypillowpressedagainstit.
MaybeBo’sbodywilljustinstinctivelyfindmineinthemiddleofthenight.Onebodyseekingoutwarmthinanother.OrI’llgetthecouragetopushmyassagainsthislapandcallitanaccident.We’regoodatthose.
Boswitchesoffthelamp,thenlowershimselfdownthemattress,tuckinghimselfundertheblankethebroughtwithhim.Theroomfallstoahushed,dullquiet.Nocricketsoutsideornearbytraffic.Onlythesoundofheadsfallingagainstfeather-filledpillowsandshiftingblanketsaswebothsettleintobed
“Hey…”Bowhispersintothepitch-blackroom.“Wedidn’taskaquestiontoday.”
Irollover,tuckingahandundermycheek.Myeyesadjusttothedarkenoughtoseethatourfacesarelinedup.Bo’sscruffyhairandsoftened,sleepyexpressionlookbackatme.“No,Iguessnot,”Iwhisperback.“Doyouhaveone?”
“I’llthinkofsomething.”Heshufflesahandunderhispillow,proppinghimselfupslightlyasheyawns.“It’sfunnythatwehaven’tdonethis,right?Sleptnexttoeachother?We’rehavingababy,andwelivetogether,butIdon’tevenknowifyousnore.”
“Idonotsnore.”AndIwouldn’tdescribethissituationasfunnyeither.
“Ormaybeyoutalkinyoursleep,”hesays.
“Doyou?”Iask,lookingbetweenourbodies,thethinamountofspaceandbeddingseparatingus.
“Guessyou’llhavetofindout,”hetaunts.“Howareyoufeeling?Abouttomorrow?”heasks.
“Theultrasound?”Iclarify.Bonods.“Mostlyexcitedbutalittlenervousthatsomethingcouldbewrong,asalways.You?”
“Metoo.”Heletsoutadeep,woefulbreath.“I’msureeverythingwillbefine,though.”
Justthen,aflutteringsensationhappensinmyabdomen.Abitlikewhenmystomachsignalsthatit’shungry,butlessofarumblingandmorelikeaweakertypeofmusclespasm.IthappensagainwhenIplacemyhanddowntofeel.It’snotuntilthethirdtimethatIrealiseit’snotmybodydoinganything.“Ithink…Ithinkmaybethebabykicked.”
“Wait,seriously?”Bospeaksasifhe’swhisperingbutdoessoveryloudly.
Ibitedownonanembarrassinglylargegrin.“Yeah,Ithinkso.ButI’mnotsure.”Irollontomyback,placingbothhandsoneithersideofmybelly.
Doitagain,IcallthroughthatchannelIcan’tnameinsidemethatfeelsconnectedtothebaby,liketwocansoneitherendofastring.Whenithappensagain,Igasp.“Yeah,they’redefinitelykicking.”
“Doesithurt?”
“No,notatall.It’slike…bubblespoppingundermyskin.”Ipressmyhandtoanotherspot,followingthesensationasitmoves.“Doyouwanttofeel?”Iask.
“CanI?”Heimmediatelysitsup,hisblanketsthrownaway.Ipluckhishandoutoftheairandbringitdowntofeel.Bo’shandiswarmandheavyagainstme.Andachinglynice.Hisfaceappearscautious,asifhe’stryingnottostartlethebabybymovingorspeaking.Ananticipatory,wide-eyedexcitementacrosshisfeaturesthathasmyheartwishingforittohappenagain
Afteraminuteofwaitingsilently,Iremovemyhandfromhis,buthedoesn’tfollow.
“Ithinkmaybethey’redonefornow.I’msorry.”
“Onemoreminute?”heasks,hisvoiceawfullysmall.“Justincase…”
Andhisdesperationdoessomethingtomyheart.Atinytwist,likewringingoutawetcloth.Ilovehimsomuchit’strulypainful.AsifeverytimeIresisttellinghimhowIfeelwhenthetruthboilsupsoclosetothesurface,atinypieceofmyselfwithersanddies.
“Ofcourse,”Isaysoftly.
Afewmomentslater,Augustdecidestogivetheperformanceoftheirlife—kickingfarharderthanbefore,rightunderBo’spalm.
AndIdecidetoorderthestuffedbearfirstthingtomorrow.
“Was—wasthatit?”heasks,lookingbetweenmeandhishand.
“Thatwasit,”Isaybrightly.
“Holyshit…Hi!Heythere!”heyellstomystomach.Ishushhim,giggling.“Sorry,sorry.”Hefallsback,laughingasheswipesbothhandsthroughhishair.“Thatwasinsane.Ican’tbelievethat.”
“There’sawholepersoninthere,”Isay.
“Ikindofforgethowwildthisallis.Whatyourbodyisdoing.Whatyouaredoing.It’samazing…”
“YouknowwhatIfoundouttheotherday?”Iask,turningbackontomysidetofacehimashedoesthesame.“Ifthebabyhasovaries,thatmeansI’mcarryingalloftheirfuturekidstoo.I’dbelikeaRussiannestingdollofpeoplerightnow.”
“Inevereventhoughtofthat,”Bosays,inawe.“We’vecreatedawholenewlineofpeople,potentially.Afamilytree.Wecouldhavedescendants.”
Ilaugh,tuckingmyhandsbetweenpillows.“Seewhatyou’dbemissingifyouwereoutthereonthecouch?Babykicks,funfacts…”
“Ido,”Boanswers,hisvoicefarmoreearnestthanmylittlejestwas.“Idon’ttakeitforgranted,Win.Ifeelveryhonouredtogettodothiswithyou.”
“What,sleepinmybed?”Itease,feelingawfullyshy.
Icanhearhiseyesroll.“No,”hesays.“Beingherewithyou.Nothavingtomissoutonthisstuff.Youdidn’thavetotellmeaboutthebabyatall,letaloneuprootyourlifetomoveinhere.I’mgratefulyoudid.I’llalwaysbegratefulthatyoudid.”
“I’mgratefulIdidtoo…andforyou.”
“Yourfriendshipmeansalottome,Win,”hebreathesout.“Youmeanalottome.”
Isqueezemyeyesshut.Now.Bebrave.Tellhimhowyoufeel.“I—”
“That’sthequestionIwasgoingtoasktonight,”Bointerrupts.“Whointhisworldmattersthemosttoyou?”
“You,”Ianswersimply,pleadingwithhimtohearme.WhatIsaidandallthatitmeans.
“You,”herepeats.“It’syouformetoo.Withaveryclosesecond,”hesays,hiseyesonmybelly.
IwanttobebraverthanIam.Iwanttoaskwhatthatmeanstohim.Whatitmeansforus.Whetherhefeelsthislongingbetweenussodeepinsidehim,sofullandabundant,thathe’salsostartedtobelievethatwehavesoulsafterall.
Simplybecausesomethinginsidemeisentirelyhis.SomethingIknowwouldfollowmeintothenextlife,orbeyondthat,evenifIleftthisbodybehind.
ButIdon’t.Becausemyheart’sjusttakenofflikeithaswingsathissmalladmissionalone,andI’drathernotriskshootingitbackdown.
Fortonight,knowingImattermosttohimisenough.Well,almostenough.
Ishufflecloser,liningupmybentkneewithhisthigh,lookingupathimwithsilentpermission.Bomovestoo,untilourchestsaretouchingthroughourblankets.Ipushmyduvetdownpastmyhips,andBoliftsthecornerofhisblanketuplikeawing,envelopingmeinitwithhisarmbehindmyback.
ThewarmthofhisbodyradiatesthroughthecottonofhisT-shirtandthesilkofmynightgown.Inuzzleintohimuntilmyforeheadrestsonhispillowalongsidehim,ournosesinchesfromtouching.AndItakeadeepinhale,breathinginhisscent—thecinnamonandmuskmixedwiththefreshlycleanedscentofhisT-shirt.Ishamelesslydoitagain,breathinghiminlikeanotherhitofsomethingfarbetterthanoxygen.
Hisarmcurlsaroundmyback,hiselbowatmywaistandhishandbetweenmyshoulderblades.Thetipsofhisfingersburnintomyskinwithadelicate,callusedtouch,whilehispalmismostlypressedagainstthesilkbetweenmyshoulderblades.
“Thisokay?”heasks,hisvoicebarelyaudible.
Imumbleasleepy,quietagreementinplaceofthewordperfect.
Andsoheholdsme.
Histhumbmovesinslowcircles,asifhe’sinnohurry.Asifhehaszeroexpectationsformore.
Withnowordsneedingtobesaid.Withnopromisesyettobemade.
AndIletitbe.
Iletmyselffeelcontent.Iletmyselffeellesslonely.Iletmyselffeelsafe.BecauseIam
“Iloveyou,”IwhisperonceI’mabsolutelysurehe’sasleep—hissteadybreathingloudandthroaty.
AndIfeellighterforitasIdriftofftosleep.CHAPTER28
Iwokeupalone,withnoproofoflastnightotherthanBo’sglassesonthenightstandandhisprosthesisstilllaidupagainstthewall.
He’llbecomingbackforthose,Ithinktomyself.SoIstretchwithayawnandletmyeyesdriftshutonceagain.
Buttheydon’tstayclosedforlong.Iwaketopotsandpansclatteringfromdownthehall,alertingtherestofmysensestothelightcominginthroughthewindowandthesmellofvanillawaftingthroughthehouse.
Thefaintsoundofwaterrunningalsotellsmethatsomeoneisintheshower.IcontemplatewhichoftheDurandmenmightbeshoweringandwhichonecouldbecookinganddecideit’smostlikelyBointheshower,withallhe’sleftbehind.
Icurlmyselfbackagainstmypillow,wrappedinmywarmcocoon,decidingtowaitforBotoreturnbeforegoingtogreethisdad.Butonceafewminutespass,mystomachandcuriosityoverrulemycomfort.
Ithrowonsomesweatsandahoodiebeforemakingmywaytowardthekitchen,whereIfindBopouringbatterintothewafflemaker.
“Morning,”Isay,rubbingmyeyes.“Ithoughtyouwereintheshower.”
Boholdsontothecounter,steadyinghimself.“Morning,”hesays,closingthewafflemakerwithhistonguepokingoutinconcentration.“IwantedtogetupbeforeDadtoavoidanysortof…questions.”Hegesturestomybedroomwithhistiltedchin,wearingabashfulsmile.“He’snotsubtle,asyoumayhavenoticed.”
“Gotit.”
“Bonjour!”Robertsays,walkingthroughthekitcheninanall-blackensemble,runningatowelthroughhishairasheheadstowardthelivingroom.
“Bonjour,”Isay,smilingatBoshyly,asifwehaveamuchmoreinterestingsecretthanhavingspentthenightcuddling.
IcutupsomefruitasBofinishesthewafflesandbrewsapotofcoffee.WealleatbreakfasttogetheronthecouchasRobertcontinuestoberateBooverhislackofdiningtable.Boinsiststhere’snotenoughroomintherebetweenhisrecordplayeranddesk.
TheybickerbackandforthasIswallowbiteafterbiteofdeliciousbreakfast,onlyjumpinginoccasionallytoagreewithRobert,hopingtoearnhisfavour.
Afterward,weallgetreadytoleavethehouse.Then,perhisrequest,wedropRobertoffatthelocalfarmers’marketbeforeBoandIdrivetothehospitalforourultrasound.
Boholdseverydooropenbetweentheparkinggarageandtheclinic.Iwonder,ifIpretendedtobenervous,wouldheholdmyhandtoo?
NotthatI’dreallyhavetopretend.
“Youokay?”heasks,openingtheclinic’sdoor.
“Yeah,”Ianswerreflexively,blowingmychanceWewalkinsideandwalkuptothereceptionistbehindaglasspartition.
“Ultrasoundfortwoplease,”Isaytoher,slidingmypaperworkthroughthenarrowslot.Sheblinksatme,herblankexpressionsayingawholelotasshesighsthroughhernose.“Fair,”Imumble,pullingoutmyID.“I’mhereformytwenty-weekscan,”Isay,placingmycarddown.
Shetakesitandbeginstypingsilently.
“Toughcrowd,”Bowhispersnexttomyear.“You’llget’emnexttime.”Henodssarcastically,givingmeathumbs-up.
Iwhackhimwiththebackofmyhand.
“Waitingroomisthethirddooronyourleft.Someonewillcomegrabyoufromthere.You’llgoinbyyourself,andthenthey’llbringyourhusbandinwhenthey’redonewiththemeasurements.”
“Thankyou,”Isay,takingbackmyID.
IturnovermyshoulderandseeBosmilingbroadly.“Afteryou,wife.”Heextendshisarmouttowardthewaitingroom.
Irollmyeyesandleadtheway.
Wesitinthelasttwoavailableseatsnexttooneanotherintheotherwisecrowdedroom.Boplayspeek-a-boowithalittlegirlstandingonthechairacrossfromus.Hermomthankshimwithogling,overlyappreciativeeyes.
Inanattempttothwarther,IplacemyhandonBo’sarm,leaningintospeaktohim.ExceptIdiditwithoutthinkingofsomethingtosayfirst,andnowhe’sstuckstill,waitingformetospeakwithhisheadtiltedtowardme.
“I’mnervous,”Isay.Partiallybecauseit’strue,andalsobecauseI’mnotthatquickonmyfeet.
“WhatcanIdo?”heasks.“Peek-a-boo?”
Ismirk,shakingmyhead.“Tellmesomething.Astoryaboutyou.Adistractingone.”
Henods,crossingonelegovertheother.“Okay…”hesays,bendingtowardme.“Wanttohearaboutmyfirstkiss?”
“Wasitembarrassing?”
“Alittle.”
“Thenyes,definitely.”
Helaughs,thenlickshislipsbeforehespeaks.“Iwassixteenandtheonlyoneoutofmyfriendswhohadn’thadtheirfirstkissyet.Ididn’tthinktolieaboutit,butinhindsightIshouldhave,becausetheyteasedmerelentlessly.Anyway,afewmonthsintogradeeleven,therewasaschoolfundraiserwhereallthejuniorsandseniorssleptattheschoolovernight.”
Ihuff.Whowouldpossiblythinkthat’sagoodidea?
“Iknow,”Bosays,“whocouldhavepossiblythoughtthatwasagoodidea?”
Hey,that’swhatIsaid.
“SoI’matthefundraiser,aloneinthebandroom,becauseallmyfriendsaredrunkandwanderingaroundelsewhere,andIdidn’tknowwhatelsetodo.Eventually,Istartedmessingaroundwiththeinstruments.Iwashopinganiceyoungladywouldwanderpastandbelulledinbymysaxophoneskills.”
“Naturally,”Iinterject.
Hescoffs,brushingahandoverhisface.“Andagroupofgirlsdidcomein.OneofthemIrecognisedfromtheseniorband.Butwe’dnevertalkedbefore.Shesatinthecornerwithherfriends,andtheywereprettymuchignoringme,butshekeptlookingover.SoIkeptplaying.Aboutanhourlater,herfriendsleft,andshestayedbehind.Shebrokethesilencebycomplimentingmytechnique.Sweet,right?”heasks,hisobviousembarrassmentastowhatevercomesnextcausinganervouslaughtobreakfree.
“Yes…”Isaycautiously.“Ohgod,whatdidyousay?”
Bolooksuptothesky,wincing.“Isaid…wanttoseewhatelsetheselipscando?”
Igasp.“No!”
“Yep,”hesays,hiseyesclosedandnodding.
“Andthat…worked?”
“Itdid.”Heleansback,crossinghisarmsinfrontofhischest.“BeforeHalloween,thatwasmyquickestclose.”
“Oh,youclosedme,huh?”
Hiseyesdriftaroundtheroom,tomytiltedsmirk,thentomystomachwithaquirkedbrow.“Sureashellseemslikeit.”
“Well,youbetterreinitin,loverboy.Nomoreunexpectedpregnanciesforyou.”
Hesnortsfromthebackofhisthroat.“Howaboutyou?Whatwasyourfirstkisslike?”
“Well,hisnamewasTrent,anditwasataskatepark.”
“Sohewasaskaterboy?”
“Yes.”
“Didyousayseeyoulater,boy?”
Igroanintomypalm,smiling.“AvrilLavignewouldbesodisappointed,butno,Ididnot.”
“Sohow’dithappen?”
“Iaskedhimtoshowmesometricksafterschool.Iwasbetterthanhim,actually.IpretendedIwasn’t,though,whichwasdumbofmebutaclassicmoveofthetime.HetoldmeIcouldthankhimforthelessonwithakiss,andIdid.Weneverreallyhungoutagain.Ican’trememberwhy.Otherthanthekissbeingnothingtowritehomeabout.”
“Howoldwereyou?”
“Fourteen.”
“Doyouthinkwewouldhavebeenfriends?Inhighschool?”heasks.
“Ithinkso.YouprobablywouldhavejoinedCaleb’snerdlegion,andSarahandIwouldhavemetyouthroughhim.”
“Iwouldhavebeeninthegradeaboveyouall,though.”
“Yeah,butthenIcouldhavesaidIwasdatinganolderguy.Itwould’vegivenmemajorcoolpoints.”
Bo’sfacelightsupashepoutshislipsinanefforttonotsmirk,noddinglikeabobblehead.“Oh,really?”hesays,elongatingeachsyllable.“Sowewouldhavedated,huh?”
Shit,didIsaythat?“What?”
“Yousaiddating.”
“Nope,don’tthinkIdid.”IclosemyeyesandlookawayfromhimasIfeelablushcreepovermyskin.
“Youdefinitelydid,”Bosingsongs.“Youwouldhavedatedmeinhighschool.”
“Withthosesaxophonemoves?Ofcourse,”Isay,flippingtheattentionbackontohim.Itdoesn’twork.Bo’ssmilingbrighterthanthedamnedsun,andit’sfuckingcontagious.
Theembarrassmentwashesawaywiththesightofhishopeful,giddyexpression.Itseemsasifmylittleslip-upcouldleadtoanadmissionfromBo,likeaneonarrowpointingtoanopeneddoor.
Suddenly,itfeelslikeI’montheedgeofacliff,abouttobehandedeitheraparachuteorananvil.AndbasedonthelookonBo’sface,itfeelslikehe’sgotaparachutewithmynameonit.Oneofhisown,too.
Youjump,Ijump.
Oneofusjustneedstofuckingjump.
“Youknow…Istillhavemysax—”
“WinnifredMcNulty?”atechniciancallsfromtheentrance.
Boclearshisthroat,hissmilefalteringashehangshisheadforasecond.
Istand,onehadextendedintoawavetowardthetechnician,andturnbackovermyshoulderandsmileatBo.Hewatchesmewalkawaywithabouncingkneeandasteadfast,encouragingsmile.
“Followme,”thetechniciansayssweetlyasIapproachthedoorway.
Thirtyminuteslater,thetechfinishestakingalltherequiredmeasurementsandimagesandexcusesherselftofetchBofromthewaitingroom.
Ihaven’tseenthebabyyetorheardtheheartbeat,sincethescreenhasremainedpointedtowardthetechnicianthroughout.We’vebeenmakingpolite,infrequentconversation,butthisultrasoundhasbeenfarmoreclinicalthanourlast.Itdefinitelyfeelsasifthebabyisthepatientthistimearound,andI’mmoreofawalkingincubator.It’sanunnervingfeeling,honestly.
I’mtwiddlingmythumbs,lookingupatthesquare-tiledceiling,whenIhearthecurtainatthefrontoftheroomrustleasit’spushedaside.
Bocomicallytowersoverthetechnicianastheywalkin.
“Allright,Dad,youcantakethatstoolthere,”shesays,pointingnexttotherightsideofmybedasshewalksaroundtheleft.
Bonodshisthanks,loweringontothestool.
“Allokay?”heaskswithastiffsmile.
“Ithinkso,”Iwhisper.“I’vejustbeenlyingherewhileshedidherthing.Shehasn’tsaidanything.”
Bonods,rubbinghislipstogetheranxiously.
“Hey,”Isay,capturinghisattention.“It’sokay,”Ireassurehim,smiling.“I’msureeverythingisfine.”
“That’ssupposedtobemyline,”hesayswithaweak,crookedgrin.
“Allright,”thetechsays,rotatingthescreentowardus.“Herewego.”Shepicksupherprobe,untanglesthewirefromaroundherdesk,andplacesitbackonmyswollenbelly,pressingagainstthecoolgel.Withaclickofabutton,thebabyisimmediatelyprojectedontothescreen.Anearperfectsilhouette,justasyou’dexpect.Notabeanoralien-shapedthinganymore,butafull,tinypersonwithadisproportionatelylargehead.
AndIswearthatnothinghaseverbeenmorebeautiful.
Ipressmycheekintothebed,tryingtonotblockBo’sview.“Theretheyare,”Bosays,breathingoutasighofrelief.Ireachouttohimblindly,refusingtotakemyeyesoffthescreen,andhewrapsmysmallerhandwithbothofhis.
“Didyouwanttoknowthesextoday?”
“No,wewanttobesurprised,”Boanswersforusboth.
Shenods,movingtheprobeagain.“Babyhaseverythingwe’dliketoseeatthisstage,”thetechsays,pointingtothescreen.“Spineislookinggreat.”Shetwistsherwristatanangleandclicksabutton,andthensuddenly,we’relookingateveryintricatedetailofaspinalcord.
It’shonestlykindofgross.
Witheverybuttonpressedandmovementoftheprobe,we’reshowneachofthebaby’sorgans.Boaskssomequestions,butIfailtofullyfocusmyattentiononthem,enrapturedbyeverylittlemovementonthescreen.
IdoubtI’lleverbefullyabletoconceptualisethatthisisallhappeninginsidemybody,butdamndoesitmakemefeelpowerfultoevenconsiderit.
Thecamerazoomsbackoutandontothebaby’sface,awhitesilhouetteagainstadarkbackground.
“Babyisshowingoffandsuckingtheirthumb,”thetechsays,pointingtothescreen.“It’ssocutewhentheydothat,”shecoos.
Iunconsciouslysitup,leaningclosertothescreen.Thepillowthathadbeensupportingmyshouldersfallsoutofplaceandontotheground.Boletsgoofmyhandtopickitupbeforeplacingitnexttomeonthemattress.
“Youokay?”heasks,restinghishandonmyknee.
“Ican’tsee…Ican’tmakeouttheshapeoftheirhand.”
“Ms.McNulty?”thetechsays,hereyesheldonme.Sheremovestheprobeandplacesitinitsholsterattachedtothemonitor.
Ishakemyself,loweringagainstthemattress.“Sorry…”
“Iseverythingokay?”
Ifeelarollingofmystomach,likenauseabutfarworse.Thatanxietyspreadsacrossmyabdomen,tighteningmychestandpoolingatthebaseofmythroat,makingmynextwordscomeoutlikeanapology.“Dotheyhavefingers?On…onbothhands?”
“Oh,”thetechsays,herupbeattoneremarkablystillintact.“Yes.Alltenfingersandtoes.”Shetypessomethingintothecomputerbeforeshuttingitoff.Thenreachesforthechartonthesideofherdesk,tuckingitunderherarm.
Iswallowanapologyoverandover,myfaceburningred.WhywouldIaskthat?
“We’llgetyousomepicturesonyourwayout,andyou’llhearfromyourdoctorinthenextfewdaysifanythingneedsgoingover,but”—shetiltsherhead,attemptingtocatchmyeye—“thebabyisgrowingwell,”shesays,noddingasshelooksbetweenBoandme.“There’snoreasonforconcern.”
“Thankyou,”Bosaysfrombesideme
Iwatchasshewalksovertothewall,pressesthedispenserforhandsanitizer,andthenturnstofaceme,rubbingherhandstogether.“Bestofluck,”shesaysbeforesteppingaroundthecurtainandleavingtheroom.
Ishutmyeyestight,attemptingtostrengthenmyshakingbreaths.
Ithought,beforetoday,thatIknewwhatthephrasebittersweetmeant.Somuchofthesepastfewmonthshasbeenjustthat.Wonderfulwithapainfullayerhiddenunderneath.
Butthis…thisiswhatbittersweetmeans.
Alltenfingersandtoes.
Everysenseofreliefissharplyfollowedbyshame.
Everywaveofshameismetwithconfusion.
Confusiongiveswaytoguilt.
IimmediatelywanttoreassuremyselfthatIwouldn’thavelovedthebabylessifthey’dhadmyhand.ThatIdon’tlovemyselfanylessthanIwouldhaveifIhadtwofullyformedhands.EvenifIalreadyknowthosethingstobetrue,Istillfeeltheneedtorepeatit,overandover.
Butmyinitialreactionwasrelief.
I’mgladthatthebabywon’tstruggleinthewaysIhave.
Ifeelhappyforthem.ThenconsiderifIshouldn’t.
Afterward,I’msadforthelifeexperiencethey’llmissouton.
Thatthey’llneverknowhowexistinginabodythattheworldisnotdesignedtoaccommodatecancreatesomanyavenuesofempathyforothers,experiencingthesamethingforavarietyofreasons.Thedeterminationandtheresiliencethatcomefromthat.Thecommunityitcultivates.
Theuniquebondwecouldhaveshared.
Withthatthoughtcomesanotherpangofguilt.Formourning,evenforasplitsecond,thelossofsimilarity.Theinherentnarcissismofwantingmykidtobelikeme.Becausethat’swhatparentsshoulddo,right?Separatetheirkidsfromthemselvesandtheirownexperiencessothattheyhaveroomtogrowintotheirownpeople.Acceptthemandofferunconditionallovealongtheway.
Inowrealiseit’suptoBoandmetodotherest.Withoutacrashcoursefromfirst-handexperience,we’llneedtobetheonestoteachourkidhowtonavigatetheworldwiththatempathy.Toseetheirprivilegeasatooltouseonbehalfofothers.
Butalso,tonotletourburdensovertakethem.
Adelicatebalance.
Andoncethethoughtsandtheconfusionandtheguiltsettlealongsidemybreaths,Idecidetotrustthatwe’reupforthechallenge.
Openingmyeyes,Ireachforthetowelleftbesidemeandwipemystomachcleanfromtheultrasoundgel.ThenIturntofaceBo,offeringhimatimid,bashfulsmile.
“Well…”Bosighsout,histonedeceptivelyserious,injuxtapositionwiththetwitchofhislips.“We’llstilllovethem,ofcourse.Evenifthey’re,youknow”—hegrimaces—“four-limbed.”
Ihuffoutalongbreath,gratefulforhisdeflection.“Disappointed?”Iask,slowlyloweringmyshirtandsittinguponthebed.
Bo’slipsshiftintoawistfulsmileashepicksupmyrighthandfromthemattressandsqueezesitonce.“No…butI’mnotrelievedeither.”
“That’showIfeeltoo,”Isay,blinkingbackthethreatoftears.
“Itwouldn’thavemadeadifferencetome,”hesays,rubbingathumbagainstmywrist.“Youknowthat,right?”
Inod,snifflingasasobbreaksfree.“Ifeelstupidforasking.”
Bostandsandlowershimselfontotheedgeofthehospitalbed,facingme.“Hey…”hesayssoftly.“It’sokaythatyouwantedtoknow.You’rejusttryingtobeprepared.”Boholdsmylittlehandbythewristandstaresatit.Hebrusheshisthumbacrossmypalm,hiseyesheldinconcentration.“Ilied,”hesays,breathingoutabitterlaugh.Hisfacesoftensashiseyestracethepatternofhisthumbasheswipesitagain.“IthinkImightbeabitdisappointed.”
Isniffle,shakingmyselfasasmilebreaksthrough.“C’mon,youdon’tmeanthat.”
“You’reperfect,Win,”Bosays,aseasilyasbreathing.“OfcourseI’dwantthemtohaveeverypartofyou.”
It’sshockinghowforcefullyhiswordshitmeinthechest.IcouldkeeloverifIwasn’tsointentonkeepinghiseyesheldonmine.
Themomentfeelslikeaprecipice.Itseemsobviousthathe’sgoingtokissme.It’sinhiseyes.Thatnarrowed,glazedexpressionI’veseenbefore.Thebriefsecondinwhichheglancesatmymouth.Iprepareforit,wettingmylipsandswallowing.Butitdoesn’tcome.
Witheverypassing,lingeringsecond,itseemslessandlesslikely.Eventually,hetightenshisjawandstands,gentlyplacingmyhandonthesideofthemattressashedoes.
Imisshim,eventhoughhe’srightinfrontofme.
“Weshouldprobablygetoutofhere,”hesays,lookingatthecurtainandthedoorbeyondit.“Dad’sbeentextingmeupdates,”hesays,scratchinghischin,lookingwayward.“We’llbeeatinglikekingsforthenextfewdays.He’sboughthalfthemarket.”
Bograbsmyjacketandbagfromthehookonthewallandplacesthemnexttome,notlookingatmebutaroundme.“Ithinkhemightbewanderingarounddowntownwithlivelobsterinhisbag…”
Inod,laughingfaintlyasIhopdownandstandattheedgeofthebed,holdingontoittightlyforbalanceasmyheadspins.
“Youokay?”heasks,hishandonmyforearmtosteadyme.
Inod,movingawayfromhisholdtoputonmyjacket.IpullmyhairoutofthebackofitwhenitgetscaughtandlookaroundcluelesslyformybagbeforerealisingBo’sholdingitouttome.Iforceasmile,takingitashelooksatmewithgrowingconcern.
“I’mfine.It’sjust…Ifeel…”Ilaugh,rubbingmyface.“Idon’tknow.IthinkI’mjusthungry,maybe,”Ilie.Well,it’snotalie.Iamhungry.That’salwaystruethesedays.
Henods,runninghisteethacrosshisbottomlip.“Okay.We’llgrabsomethingonourwayhome.”
Shit.
“Oh,actually…”
IhadcompletelyforgottentotellhimthatIneededtobedroppedoffatSarah’safterourappointment.She’stakingmetothestoretograbeverythingforBo’spartytomorrow,andthenwe’regoingbacktoherstobakeacake.“IhaveplanswithSarahthisafternoon.Doyouthinkyoucoulddropmeoffthere?Afterwegrabyourdadandhisnewpetlobsters?”
“Oh,uh,sure.”Bo’sfacefalls,hislipscurlinginward.
Itpullslikeaweightinmystomach,watchinghisfrowntwitchashiseyeslookatthefloorbetweenus.
Butsomespacemightdousbothgood.IknowIcoulduseabathandalongchatwithSarah,atleast.“Also…”Isay,swallowing.“Imightsleepovertheretonight.”
Boopenshismouthandshutsitjustasquickly.Heswallowstightlyashiseyebrowspresstogether.“SoI’llseeyoutomorrow?Formy,uh—”Hehesitates,lookingupattheceilingasifhecan’tbelievehehastosaythisnextpartoutloud.“Formybirthday?”
Thepointofasurprisepartyis,ofcourse,tomakeitasurprise.ButittakeseverythinginmenottoruinitwhenIseetheflatexpressionhe’sforcingtoreplacehisobviousdisappointment.
“I’vebeensworntosecrecy,butyourdadhasaplanforyoubothtomorrow.”TheoneIaskedhimtomake.“I’llbehomewhenyougetback.”Andsowillsixotherpeople.
“Promise?”heasks,fartooquicklyforittohavebeenintentional.
MybrowsknittogetherasInod.“Yeah,ofcourse…”
“Okay,”hesays,smilingweakly,hiseyesstillonthefloor.“Soundsgood,”hesays,tiltinghisheadupwardandlookingoverhisshouldertothedoor.“Ready?”
“Yeah,”Iagree,myvoicefarmoredefeatedthanI’dlikeittobe.CHAPTER29
“Caleb,IsweartogodifyoueatanotherpinwheelbeforeBogetshere,I’llgiveyouandWinmatchingfingers,”Sarahsays,settingapitcheroflemonadeonthetable.
Calebshoveshishandintohispocketandslowlybacksawayfromthetableoffood.
“They’retwominutesaway,”Iannouncetotheroomofguests,puttingmyphoneonthecounternexttothecakethatSarahandIdecoratedtolooklikeaHobbitdoor,completewithalarge30inthecentre.
Bohasbeenoutwithhisdadsincethismorning.Iknowtheystartedbygettinglunchandendedatabrewery,butI’mnotsurewherethey’vegoneinbetween.TheonlyhintIhaveisthephotoBosentofhimselfinabarber’schair,coveredinwhitetowelsandwithacaptionthatread:I’mthemummynow
Ilookedatthephotoforwaytoolong,evenamongstthechaosthatwasthrowingthispartytogether.
Ilovethatdork.
AndI’mgoingtotellhim.Tonight.
SarahandItalkedabouteverythinglastnight,andonethingbecameclear.Iphysicallycannothandlelivingherewithhimanothersecondwithouttellinghim.Ijusthavetoleapblindlyandhopehefeelsthesame.
AndevenifBo’snotfullymovedonfromhispastrelationship,Ithinkhe’dbewillingtotrystartingsomethingnew.ThereweresomanyinstancesyesterdaywhereIjustknewhecouldfeelthesamewayaboutmeasIdoabouthim.Thewaitingroom,hisdisappointmentwhenIaskedhimtotakemetoSarah’s,thelookinhiseyewhenhesaidIwasperfect.
IthinkIcouldbecontent,evenifBo’sheartisintwoplaces.Honestly,atthispoint,IthinkI’dhappilysettleforhalfofhisaffections.IhaveafeelingBowouldlovemebetterathalfcapacitythananyoneelseevercould
KevinandJeremiahburstthroughthedoor,apologisingforbeinglateastheybecomeaflurryofscarvesandjacketsbeingremoved.“Wesawthempullontothestreet,buttheydidn’tspotus.Weparkedaroundthecornerlikeinstructed,”Kevinsays,handingaplateoffoodtoJeremiahashedramaticallyripsoffhisshoes,tossesthemintothecloset,andbarrelstowardme.
“Wheredoyouwantthese?”Jerasksashishusbandwrapsmeupinahug.
“Justonthetableplease,”IsqueakfromtheinsideofKevin’stighthug
“Howyadoing?”Kevinasks,releasingme.
“Fine!”
Hestudiesmewithaknowingsmile.“Youseemnervous.”
“IwantBotolovehisparty…”
“Theparty…sure,”Kevinsays,pattingmyshoulder.“Sarah!”heshouts,walkingovertoher.“Imadethebacon-wrappedscallopsIwastellingyouabout…”IlosefocusoftheirconversationbehindmewhenWalterraiseshishand,pointingoutsidethewindow.
“They’rehere,”hesays,droppingthecurtain.AdamirshutsoffthelightsasIpausethemusic,andeveryoneelsecrouchesbehindfurnitureorwalls.
Imovetothecentreofthearchway,betweenthediningandlivingroom,andwait,myheartbeatthumpinginmyears
Bo’sdadopensthefrontdoorandquicklyjogsinside,hidingontheothersideofthearchway,tuckedinsidethelivingroom.Hesmileswidelyatmewithanticipatoryexcitementacrosshisfeatures.
Iwinkathim,mygiddysmilegrowingbythesecond.
“Dad?”Bocallsoutfromthefrontsteps.He’snearlylaughingbutmostlyconfusedashestepsintothefronthall.
Thenheseesme,wearingmydorkycone-shapedpartyhatandmypurplelinendress,andhisshouldersfallwithacontentedsmile.
Thesecondspasslikeminutesaswestareateachotherfromacrosstheroom
Butchaosexplodesallaroundussoonenough,onceSarahrestartsthemusicandeveryoneshouts“Surprise!”astheypopoutfromtheirhidingplaces.
Bojumpsbackward,nearlyfallingonhisass.Heclutcheshischest,laughingasheregainshisbalancewithonehandonthewall.“Ohmygod,”hesays,breathingheavily,halfbentover.“Hi,everyone…”hesays,straightening,hiseyesonme.
“Happybirthday?”Isay,wincing.
Heshakeshishead,smilingbroadlyashebeelinesacrosstheroomtowardme,dodgingfurnitureandpeopleinhispath.Withoutwarning,Bopicksmeupoffthegroundandintohisarms,crushingmeagainsthiminatighthugasmyfeetdangleunderneathme.
“I’msogladyou’rehere,”hewhispers,hismouthtiltedintothecrookofmyneck.
Iwrapmyarmsaroundhisshouldersandholdhimtoo.“IsaidIwouldbe,”Iwhisperback.
“Didyoudoallofthis?”heasks,hisvoicelessstrainedbutnotquiteright.
“Yeah.”
Hesighsout,hisbreathwarmagainstmythroat.“Thankyou.”
“Sothisiswhatit’slikeuphere,”Isay,admiringmynewviewpointfromoverBo’sshoulder.“Ilikeit.”
“Imissedyou,”hesays,loweringmebacktostandonmyowntwofeet.
Ireachbesidemeforapartyhatandholdituptohim.“Itwasjustonenight,”Isay.
Bobendsatthewaist,allowingmetofastenittohishead.
“Happybirthday,”Irepeat,justforhimthistime.
“Youdidn’ttextmeback,”hesays,hislipstwitchingintoanuneasygrin.“Ithoughtyouwere…”
Inarrowmyeyesonhim,noticingtheunusualmopinessacrosshisfaceandthewildlytousledhairthatusuallysignalshisunease.Hisbeardgottidiedupandtrimmed,butI’mgladhedidn’tletthebarbertakeoffanyofhishair.Iloveitlonger.
“I’msorry.Iwasbusydoingthis,andIforgottoreply.”
“No,don’tbesorry.Thisisamazing.I’m…”Heshakeshimself,reachingoutforme.“Hi,”hesays,pullingmeagainsthischestagain.
Ilaugh,hugginghim.“Bo,areyouokay?Thereareotherpeopleherewho—”
“I’malittledrunk.”Hestraightens,wipinghisbrowwiththesleeveofhisgreysweater.“Ihaven’thadadrinksinceyoutoldmeaboutthebaby.Solidarity,youknow?ButIthinkI’malightweightnow?”Heswallows,droppinghischin.“Ihadtwosamplerflights,andDadendeduphavingtodriveushome.”Hescratcheshisjaw,lookingaroundwithapolitesmile.“Everyone’slookingoverhere…”hewhispers.
Inodthoughtfully,tryingnottosmirk.“Yougonnabeokay,bigguy?”
Henods,lickinghislips.“I’mgonnagetsomefood.That’llhelp.”
“Greatidea.”Ipathisbackashewandersovertothefoodtable,greetingmoreofhisfriendsasheforgoesaplateandshovesafewdifferentthingsintohismouthatonce.
Sarahwidenshereyesatme,herlipspulledinwardasIwalktowardherinthekitchen.“Thatwasquitetheentrance.”
“He’salittletipsy,turnsout.”Igrimace,laughing.
“Ithoughthewasgoingtocarryyouaroundthewholepartylikeafavouritetoy.”Shehandsmeawineglassfilledwithlemonade.“Helookedalittletorturedwhenhesawyou.Youshouldprobablyputhimoutofhismisery.Ornot,ifyou’reintothatsortofthing.”
“HethoughtIwasmadathim,”Iexplain.“Ididn’ttexthimback,and…afteryesterday,IthinkheprobablyfeelsasuneasyasIdo.”
“Well,youshoulddefinitelyshowhimhownotmadyouare,”Sarahsays,smirkingintoherglassofmerlot.
“He’llhavetosoberupfirst,”Ilaugh.
Kevinjoinsus,sippingonhisdrinkasallthreeofuswatchBointroducehisdadtoWalter,Jeremiah,andAdamir.
“Bo’sdadisinsanelyhot,right?”Kevinwhispers.
“It’salittlejarring,honestly,”Ireply,thehandonmyneckslippingdowntomychest.
“WoulditbeweirdforyouifIinvitedhimtobeourthird?”Sarahasks,turninghersmirktowardme.“IthinkCalebcouldbepersuaded.”
“Shutup,”Isay,sputteringmydrink.
“IthinkI’driskourfriendshipforhim,”shewhispers.
“Oh,youwould,huh?”
“Oui,oui,”Sarahsays,gigglingintoherwine.
Thepartywasahugesuccess.
Bobouncedaroundbetweenhisfriendsallevening,allthewhiledevouringatrulystartlingamountoffood.SarahchallengedWaltertoalip-syncbattleandgotherasshandedtoherwithavoteofsixtoone.Caleb,ofcourse,votedwithhisheart.
RobertheldcourtwithJeremiahandKevinmostoftheevening,discussingFrenchcuisine.AdamirandIbondedoverourloveofplants,andIsenthimhomewithadozencuttingstopropagatewhenhecutoutearly.
Then,afteratrulywonderfulevening,thepartydieddownalittleaftermidnight.WaltercaughtaridehomewithJeremiahandKevin.CalebandSarahstayedtohelpcleanup.NotthatSarahisanyhelpinhercurrentstate.
“Thiswasgreat,Win,”Calebsays,tyingagarbagebag.
“Ihadfun,”Isay,smilingintothesinkasIwashwineglasses.“IhopeBodidtoo.”
“Sureseemslikeit,”Calebsays,peekingoutintothelivingroom.“Ithinkweshouldgetgoing,though.Haveyougotthis?”
“Yeah,ofcourse.I’lljustdotheresttomorrow,”Isay,dryingmyhandsonateatowel.“Thanksforhelping.”
“Anytime,”hesays,puttinghisarmaroundmeasweturnthecornerintothelivingroom.IfallnexttoSarahonthecouchandbeginpettingherhairawayfromherface.“Timetogo,babe,”Iwhisper.“Youcansleepinyournice,warmbed.”
Sarahsitsup,groaning.
“Ready,love?”Calebsays,bendingoverthebackofthecouch.Sarahstumblesovertohim,thenpetshisfaceasheshakeshisheadaffectionately.“Yeah,you’reready.Okay,herewego.”Heguideshertothefronthallwithahandonthesmallofherbackandhelpsherintohershoesandcoat.
“Byeee,”Sarahwhinesout,wavingfromthedoorwithhereyesmostlyshut.“Robert,itwassogoodtomeetyou.Bo,happybirthday.You’regreat.Win…”Sarahopensoneeye,lookingatmewithasoft,hazysmile.“Bestofluckwithallyourfutureendeavours,”shehiccups.
“Nailedit,”Calebsaysgently,rubbingherback.“Bye,guys.Happybirthday,man!”
“Thankyou,”Bosaystothemboth.“Thanksforcoming,”herepeats.
“Loveyou!”IshoutafterthemasCalebshutsthedoor.
“You’vegotagoodgroupoffriends,Robbie,”Bo’sdadsays,sighing.“It’snicetosee.”
Iglancebetweenthemen,buttheybothslowlyturntowardme,smilingappreciatively.
“I’mverylucky,”Bosayssoftly—eyesheldonmine.
Iblush,butthedimlylitroomishopefullydarkenoughtodisguiseitwell
“I’mgoingtogotakeashowerbeforebed,”Bosays.“Youokay?”heasksme.
“Ofcourse,”Isay,smilingupathim.
AssoonasBo’soutoftheroom,Robertstandsandmovestotheoppositeendofthecouchfromme.“Thankyou,”hesaysearnestly.“Ilikeknowingmysoniswelllooked-after.”
“Ah,well,it’sjustaparty.”
“No,itisn’t.He’shappynow.Hewasnothappylastyear.Whocouldblamehim?”
“SometimesIwishI’dknownhimthen,”Iadmit.“Ihatethinkingthathefeltsoalone.”
Roberttiltshisheadintohispalm,listeningtomewithawarmgrin—analmostproudexpression.“Joannawouldhavelovedyou,youknow.Youhavehersame…care.Icantelllifehasnotbeeneasyoralwayskindtoyou,butyouhaven’tletitturnyouhard.Notlikeastone.Youbecamelikewater.Youmovewithitall.You’resoft…butpowerful.”
Iimmediatelyhavetoblinkawaytears,shakingmyhead.“Oh,”Isay,sniffling.“That’s,um…”
“TheoddmusingsofadrunkFrenchman,oui.”
“No,Imean…That’sverykind.Thankyou.FromwhatBohassaid,Joannawasafantasticperson.Icertainlyadmirehertasteinmusic,”Isay,offeringapieceoflevity.
“WhathasBosaidabouthismother?”
Iwince,hopingIdon’tmakeBosoundcoldoruncaring.ButIdon’twanttolieeither.“Notalot,honestly.Just…howyoutwomet.Howmuchyoubothmissher.Themusic,and—”
“Howshepassed?”Robertinterrupts
No,Isaysilently,shakingmyhead.
Hehums,noddingsoftly.“Joannastruggledthewayalotofartistsdo.Herfeelingsoftenfelttoobigtoholdonto.Toooutofcontrol.Butitmadehergreat.Passionateabouthermusic.”Helickshislips,leaningbackonthecouch.“Whenwedecidedtohavechildren,we’dalreadybeentogetherforeightyears.WehadthisnicelittleapartmentinToronto.Weplayedmusictogethereveryday,andwehadsomuchhappiness.Joyandlaughterand…Ithoughtthebestwasyettocome.”
Robertchokesupandimmediatelyreachesforhisthroat.Idothesamewithoutthinking.Myheartstartspoundinginmychest,waitingoneveryword.
“Backthen,therewasnorealwordforthewayJoannaseemedtoloseherselfduringpregnancy.Shebecame…likeaghost.Itriedtohelp.Itriedtogetherhelp,but…”Robertsighs,shakinghisheadattheceiling.“Itwasalltoomuchforher.Sheleftanote,sayingthatshewassorry.Thatshelovedus.Thatshecouldn’texplainwhyshecouldn’tstay,and…shetookherownlife.Bowasonlytwelveweeksold.”
Iinhalesharply,coveringmymouthasmylipsquiver.“I’msosorry,”Iwhisper.“I…Ihadnoidea.I’mso—”
“IwisheverydaythatIcouldhavehelpedhermore.”
“I’msureyoudideverythingyoupossiblycouldhave.”Irestmyhandonhisknee.
Hepatsmyhandtwicewithhis,andInoticeit’sshaking.Hethenbringsittohischin,rubbingitbackandforth.“Afewsummersaftershepassed,Robbiewasstillsmall—justturnedfive—andIlefthimwithJoanna’ssisterforaweek.IhadashowtoplayoutsideofCanada,andIthought…”Hisvoicetrailsoffashetakesadeepbreathin.“Thehorridwomantoldhimwhathappened.ToldhimthetruthabouthowJoannapassed.And…I’vefeltthat,eversincethen,Robbie’sheldontoaresponsibility.Thathefeelspartiallytoblame.Iregretthattoo.”
Myjawshakes,thenloosensasmytearsthreatentopour,thinkingofthatlittleboywho’sgrownintothemanIknow.TherealisationastowhyeverystepofthispregnancyhasheldsuchweighttoBo.Myfeelings,myhousing,myfinances,myhealth.Allbecauseofwhathappenedtohismother.Becauseofthatguilthefeels.
Iwishhe’dtoldme,butIunderstandwhyhedidn’t,orcouldn’t.It’sunimaginable,thatlevelofpain.
“Whenhecalledtotellmeaboutthebaby…aboutyou…Ithinkhefeltlikehe’dbeengivenanotherchance,almost.Itriedtotalktohimaboutit.Triedtotellhimthatitwasnothisburden,butmine.Butit’shardtodo.Robbiewouldalwaysratherworryaboutsomeoneelsethanhimself.He’salwaysbeenthatway.”
“I…I’mokay,though,”Isay,becausepartofmethinksRobertneedstohearittoo.“Ididn’tneedhimto—”
“Yes,”heagrees.“Ithinkhethoughtatfirstthathehadtokeepyoucloseforyoursake.Tonothavehistoryrepeatitself.Butnow?Nowisdifferent.Ithinkheneedsyou.”
“Bo’s…Bois…He’swonderful.”
“Heis,”Robertagrees.“Buthehasasoftheart,likehismother.Likeyou.Youmustbegentlewitheachother,okay?”
Asoftheartlikehisfather,itseems,aswell.
“Yes,”Iagree,myvoicebarelyaudible.
“Good…”Robertsighs,standingupslowly.“IfearI’veruinedtheeveningnow,withallmysadramblings.”
“Oh,no…No,you—”
“Imisshertoday,especially.Thirtybirthdaysforourboy.Sheshouldbehere.”
“Maybesheis?Inawaywecan’tsee?”
“Perhaps,”Robertsays,swayingasheplacesahandonthebackofthecouchtosteadyhimself.“Thankyoufortonight,Win.Butmoreimportantly,forgivingRobbieareasontocelebrateagain.”
“Goodnight,”Isay,lookingovermyshoulderasRobertwalksaroundthebackofthecouchtowardBo’sbedroom.
AndIwipemyeyes,determinedtogofindBoandholdhimforaslongashe’llletme.CHAPTER30
WhenBocomesinafterhisshower,he’swearinghisusualbeigehoodieandblackshortscombination,aswellashisglassesunderfreshlywashed,towel-driedhair.Hefindsmesittingupinbed,waitingforhim,wearingawhitecrewnecksweaterandblackbicycleshorts.
“Hey,”hewhispers,lookingoveratmeasheplaceshisprosthesisnexttomydresser.“Ithoughtyoumightbeasleepbynow.”
“Hi,”Isay,“Iwantedtotalktoyoufirst…”
“Everythingokay?”heasks,loweringtotheedgeofthebed,hisbackfacingme.Iwatchashetakesoffhisglassesandplacesthemonthebedsidetablenexttohisphone.
Itakeatremblingbreathinanddivetowardhim,wrappingmyarmsaroundhiswaistandpressingmyheadbetweenhisshoulderblades.
“Hey,”hesaysgently,hisneckturnedasfarashecanoverhisshoulder.“What’sgoingon?”
“Nothing,”Ianswer,myvoicemuffledbyhissweater.“Ijustneededtohugyou.”
“Okay,”hesays,placinghishandonmineoverhisribs.“Letmeliedown,andthenwecanbothgetinonthis.”
Inod,pullingaway.
Botwistsandlowershimselfuntilhe’sflatonhisback,thengesturesformetocomesnuggleintohissidewithanoutstretchedarm.Instead,Icrawlovertopofhim,straddlinghishipsandburrowingmyfaceintohischest.
“Win…”Bosaysashislargehandsspreadacrossmyshoulders,rubbingupanddownmyback.“Talktome,honey.What’sgoingon?Didsomethinghappen?”
“Whenyouwenttoshower,yourdadandItalkedforalittlebit.”
“Didhesaysomethingtoupsetyou?”
“No…”Isay,turningmyheadouttotheside.Iwipemyfacewiththesleeveofmysweaterandsniffbacktears.“Buthetoldmeaboutyourmom.”Myvoicepitchesup,nearbreaking.“Abouthowshepassed,and…Bo,I’msosorry.”
“Oh,”hebreathesout,hishandsstillingonmyback.“Iwasgoingtotellyou,Win.Ijust—”
“No,no.”Isitup,teary-eyed,andlookdownathim.WhenIdo,hisexpressionisn’twhatIexpected.Helooksscared,almost.Notsad.Notmournful.Butscared.Hisjawhardenedandhiseyessoftandheldonmewithaconcernthathasmewantingtosmoothoutthelinebetweenhisbrowswithmythumb.Morethanthat,actually.IwishIcouldtakeouthissoulandsmoothitouttoo,removeeverywrinkleandcreaseandstainandgiveitbacktohimasgoodasnew.“I’mnotupsetyoudidn’ttellme.I’mjust…IwishI’dknown,”Isay.“SoIcouldhelpsomehow.”
Boliftsup,forcingmetoshiftoffhislowerabdomenashemovestositwithhisbackagainsttheheadboard.Igotomovetothemattressnexttohim,buthepullsmebackontohislapwithhishandsonmyhips.
Withourfacesjustafewinchesapart,Bomoveshishandtomyneck,histhumbtracingmyjawtenderlynexttomyearashiseyesdelicatelytrackthepattern.
Letmein,Iwanttosayamidstthesilence.Loveme.Trustme.Iwon’tletyoudown.Iswearit.
“IwasscaredthatifItoldyouhowmymomdied,you’dthinkIwasdoingthisforallthewrongreasons,”hesays,hischestrisingandhistear-brimmedeyesheldtentativelyonmyjaw.“Ididn’twantyoutothinkthatIaskedyoutomoveinjustsoIcouldmonitoryouorsomething.And…”Hesighs,lettinghisforeheadfallagainstmychinashesniffsbacktears.
“It’sokay…”Isay,wrappingmyhandaroundhisneck,brushingoverhishair.“Youdon’thavetoexplain.It’sokay…”
“Iconvincedmyselfthatyouwouldn’tbehonestwithmeabouthowyou’refeelingifyouknewwhathadhappened.Ineverwantedtoriskyoursafetybecauseyouweremoreworriedaboutmyfeelingsthanyourown.”Ifeelhishandsmovetomyhips,thetensionpullingonmysweaterasheballsupthematerialinhisfistsoneitherside.“ButIdidwanttotellyou,Win.Idon’twantanysecretsbetweenus.Notanymore.”
Inod,mylipsquiveringagainsthishairline.Heshakeswithasoftsob,hisshouldersfallingforward.“It’sokay…”Isay,overandover.“Whathappenedisnotatallyourfault.It’snoone’sfault.Youwerejustababy.You’renottoblame.”
“Ithink…”Heclearshisthroat,sittingup,hisfacelevelwithmine.“IthinkhavingAugustishelpingmerealisethat.”Hisnostrilsflareonadeepinhale,andateardripsdowntheleftsideofhischeekthathequicklywipesagainsthisshoulder.
“Good.”Iputmyhandonhischeek,forcinghimtolookatme,tohearme.“Becausewe’dneverblamethem,wouldwe?”
Heshakeshishead,hiseyeslockedonmine.
“You’vegivenmesomuch,Win.”
“No…”
“EversinceImetyou,it’slikeeverypartofmehashealedalittlebit.Doyouknowthat?Doyouknowthatyoudothatforpeople?”
Inod.NotbecauseIagree,butbecauseIunderstand.“Ithinkwebothneededafreshstart.Ithinkwegavethattoeachother.”
Bo’shandsbeginshiftingagainstmyhips,histhumbsbrushingthefrontofmystomachashelooksdownbetweenus.“It’smorethanthat,Win.”Hetiltsuptofaceme,hisgazepleading.“Atleast,itisforme.”
Iswallowtightly,myhandsstillonthebackofhisneck.
“I’mnotsurehowtopacemyselfhere.Howtoslowdownsoyoucancatchup,”hewhispers.
“Catchup?”Iask,trembling.
“Ithinkwebothknowhowthisisgoingtoend,”hesays,hisvoicegruff.“I’mjusttryingtofigureouthowtogetusboththereatthesametime.”
“But…whataboutCora?”Istutterout.
Boleansback,studyingmyfaceintentlywithpoutedlipsandaraisedbrow.“WhataboutCora?”
Ilookdownbetweenus,droppingmyhandsfromhisneck.“Thatday,onthebeach…yousaidyouloveher.Yousaidyouhadn’tgottenclosure.Itsoundedlikeyouwerestill—”
“Icalledherassoonaswegothome,Win,”heinterrupts.
“What?”Istammer.
“Wegothomefromthebeach,andallIcouldthinkwas,hereIamatthestartofsomethingnewandbeautiful,andI’mstillstuckinthepast.IrealisedIcouldn’tkeepmakingexcusesforher.ThatIcouldn’tleavethingsunresolvedforthesakeofpeace.Youdeservedbetterthanthat.Thebabydeservedbetterthanthat.YoumademerealisethatIdeservedbetterthanthat.SoIcalledher.”
“I…Ididn’tknow.”
Bolickshislips,hiseyesfocusedonsomethingofftotheside.“Wetalkedforafewhours.Iapologisedforclingingtosomethinglong-overoutoffear,andsheapologisedfor…well,everythingelse.Ithinkshe’dbeenexpectingmetocall.Sheseemedreadyforit.Webothsaidourpiece,andthensheaskedhowIwas.Andthen…Italkedaboutyou.”
“Me?”
Boshakeshishead,smiling.“I’vebeentalkingaboutyoutoprettymuchanyonewhowouldlistenformonths,”helaughsoutsoftly.“Ithoughtyouknew,Win.IthoughtitwassopainfullyobvioushowIfeelaboutyou.WhatIwanthere.Ithoughtthat’swhyyousetsuchclearboundaries.Ithoughtyoudidn’tfeelthesame.”
Ibringahandtomymouth,coveringawaveringsmile.Hewantsme.
“I’vebeenhangingonyoureveryword,hopingyou’llgivemeagreenlight.Idon’twanttopushyou.Idon’twantyoutoeverfeeluncomfortable,but…Idon’tthinkIcanpretendany—”
Ikisshim.BecauseIhaveto.BecauseIcan.Becauseit’sright.
Andhekissesmeback,fierceyetgentle,andit’slikeathousandhoursspentwantingeachotherspillingbetweenus.Hishandsgofrommyhipstomyhair,clingingtome.
“You’resure?”heasks,pullingback.
Igiggleagainsthislips.“I’msure,Bo.I’vewantedthisforsolong.”
“Okay…we’lltalkafter?”
“After,”Iagree,laughingstill,giddyandrelievedandsoeffervescentlyhappy.
Ourkissquicklyturnsfeverish,withanintensityI’veneverfeltbefore.
Idon’tquestionifhewantsthis,becausehe’stoldmehedoes.Idon’tquestionifit’sagoodchoiceorabadoneorworryaboutallitcouldruin.Becausewhenyoulovesomeonethismuch,whenyou’veseentheirhurtandtheirheartandyourecognisethemasyourown—you’releftwithnochoicebuttogiveyourselfovertoit.AndI’mtiredofbeingscared.IlongtobelovedbyamanlikeBo.Ilongtolovehim,thewayhedeserves.
Oursoulsweretiedalongtimeago,Ithink.We’rejustfinallyadmittingittoeachother.
Botwistsandliesdownlengthwaysacrosstheheadboard,keepingmeontopofhimwithasteadyhold.We’rebothsmilingwhenourlipsmeetagain,butthatendswhenBo’shandcurlsaroundthebackofmyneck,pullingmefartheragainsthimthanitseemsIcango.
Ifeelittoo,wantingtofuseourbodiestogether—theneedtobecomeonelivingthing.
Isitup,reachingforthehemofmysweater,buthetakesitoffforme,throwingitacrosstheroom.Ifumblewithhishoodieashestrugglestoliftenoughformetogetagoodgrip.Webothlaughsoftly,tuggingandpullingandshiftinguntilwe’rebothtoplessandpressedagainsteachotheragain.BorollsussoI’monmybackandhe’sbetweenmylegs.
“They’rereallysensitivenow,”Iwhisper,holdingmytitsashepullsmyshortsandunderwearoff.
Boliftsmyfootontohisshoulderandbeginskissinghiswaydowntheinsideofmyleg.“Inagoodway?”heasks,nibblingatthesideofmyknee,watchingmyhandseagerly.
“Inagreatway,”Isay,pluckingmynipples.“InawaywhereI’vebeenimaginingyoutouchingthemeverynight.”
Bo’ssmileturnsheated,hiseyeslockedinonmytitsashewetshislips.Hecontinueskissingtheinsideofmythigh,holdingmylegoverhisshoulderashemakeshiswaydowntomycentre.Hebringshisotherhandtomybreast,hispalmcoveringthepeakedfleshandsqueezingindelicately.
Hepullsaway,holdingmycalfwithbothhandsasheshakeshishead,hiseyesskimmingovereverypartofmybody.“God,Ican’tdecidewheretostart.I’vemissedyourbodysomuch.IwishIhadmorehands.”
Iraiseabrow,andhenods,hislipstight.“Heardit.”
“We’vegottime,”Ireplybreathlessly.“Buttouchmesomewhere.”
Bonods,loweringhimselftotheflooratthesideofthebed.
Hereachesacrossthemattress,thetendonsinhisarmsflaringashegrabstheextrafleshofmyhipsandusesittopullmetotheedge.
Iyelp,bitingmylipasIsmiledownathim,gratefulforhisroughness.
“I’vedecided,”hewhispers,bitingtheoppositethighashepartsmylegswithhishands.
“Yes,”Iwhisper.“Gooddecision…”
Helaughsdarklywithhismouthagainstmycore.Thenheswipeshistongueexpertlyfrommywetentrancetomyclit
Icryout,coveringmymouthwithmyforearm.“Yes,”Isay.“Rightthere.”
HesucksandflickshistongueagainstthatsamespotuntilI’mpanting,grippingthesheetsandhishair.Unwindingintoacomplete,uttermess.
Removinghismouth,hepressestwofingersinsidemeandcurlsthem,tappinginanachinglyperfectrhythm.Imatcheachmotionwithuncontrollablegaspsandsqueaksandmoans.“Ohmygod,”Imoan,baringmyteethaspressurebuilds.
“Fuckyes…”Bo’svoiceislowandsteady,incompletecontrasttohowIfeel,floatingaboveitall.“Doyouhaveanycluehowsexyyouare?Howsweetyoutaste?HowmuchI’vebeenthinkingaboutyoulikethis?”
Iwhine,bitingmybottomlipasItrytowillmyselfclosertothatsweetoblivion.
“I’vethoughtabouthearingmynamecomeoutofthoseperfectlipseveryfuckingnightsinceIheardyoufromdownthehall.Please,Win.Please.Saymyname.”
“Bo,”Isaylikeapromise.“Bo,”Iforceoutfromthehollowofmychest.“Fuckme,”Ibeg.“Please,”Iwhine,thrashingbackward.
“Notyet,honey.Notuntilyoucomeonmyfingersfirst.I’mfuckingdyingto.Trustme.ButIneedthisfromyoufirst.Needtowatchyou.”Heplacesahandontheswellofmystomachashiseyesgrowhooded.“Iwasobsessedwithyourbodybefore,butnow,Ithink…IthinkI’magoner.Lookatyou.Fuckingperfect.”
“I’m…I’mclose,”Isay,myjawclenchingasmylegsfighttoclose.Bopinsmykneedownwithhisshoulder,keepingmeopenforhimasIbegintoshake.
“That’sright,honey.Comeforme.Please.”
IcomesohardIheararinginginmyears,mybodytaughtandcontractedandspasmingallover.Iscreamaroundmywrist,silencingmyselfasbestasIcan.
Oncemybodystillsandmybreathsslow,Bostartstenderlykissingmythrobbingsex.It’salmosttoomuch,butIpressmylipstogetherandforcemyselftorelaxintoit.
Bowhimpersalongsidelittlethroatysoundsofgreedashelapsupeverysinglebitofmyrelease.“God,youtastesofuckinggood,”hegrindsoutbeforegentlykissingmyclitonelasttime,sendingashockofoverstimulationthroughmysystem.
“Showme,”Ioffer,rollingmynecktoseehim.“Kissme,”Isay,wearingasatisfiedsmile.
“Gladly,”Bosays,usinghisarmstohelplifthimselfofftheground.
Irotatemyself,lyinglengthwaysonthebed,andmakeroomforhimtoliedownnexttome.Oncehe’ssettled,Idrapemyselfacrosshischestandkisshimleisurely.
“Myfavouritethingintheworld,”hesaysagainstmylips,swipinghisthumbacrossmycheek,thentrailingalazyfingerdownmynecktomychest,wherehetapsthespacebetweenmybreasts,colouredpink.“IwasscaredI’dnevergettoseethistypeofblushfromyouagain.”
Ileandowntokisshimagain.HegripsthesideofmyfaceasInibblehisbottomlip,pullingitbetweenmyteethandreleasingonlywhenIliftaway,pressingmyforeheadintohis.Igroaninfrustration,angrythatIcan’tbenearerthanthis.
“IwishIcould…”Isay,notknowingwhereIwantthatsentencetoend.WhatImeanisIwanthiminsideme.Butnotonlyinthewayhewillinevitablybesoon.Butburnedinsideofme.Likelightninghittingatreeandstartingafirefromwithin.Iwanthim,hislife,hislessons,hissoulanditsimpressionstobebrandedundermyskin.“Eatyou”aretheclosestwordsIcanfind.
“That’sfrownedupon,honey.”BosaysasIliftalegoverhislaptostraddlehim.
“Wouldyouletme?”Iaskashegripsmylowerback,thenlowershishandstotheglobesofmyass,hisfingersdiggingintomyflesh.“IfIaskednicely?”
“YouknowIwould,”hesays,laughing.
Ibenddownandkisshimsomemore,mynipplesgrazingagainsthischestinthemostincredibleway.
“Turnaroundforme,”Bosays,histeethagainstmyjaw.“Iwantyoutoloweryourselfontome,thenleanbackagainstme,okay?”
Inod,repositioningmyself.Bo’shandwrapsaroundmywaistashesitsupunderneathme.Hekissesacrossmyshoulder,pushinghisforeheadintothebackofmyheadasIraiseupontomykneesandsinkontothelengthofhim.
“Fuck,”Iwhisper,mylipspartingonaraggedinhale.NomatterhowmanytimesIreplayedthememoryofournighttogether,Iknew,deepdown,itwasneverclosetotherealthing.Nothingcouldhavepreparedmeforhowincredibleitwouldfeelagain.
“Win…”Bomoans,hisvoicebreathless.“Howisitevenbetterthistime?”
“Becausenowwe’reus,”Ireply,whisperingthroughathickfogofdesire.
IdoasI’mtoldandleanbackagainsthischest.Bo’sarmswrapmeinatightembrace,onehandreachingacrossmyabdomen,holdingmethere.Theotherhasatightgriponmybreast.Iusemyshinsandkneespressedintothemattresstorollagainsthim.“Likethis?”
Bohisses,histeethonmyear.“Yes,”hesayssharply.“Fuckinghell…”Heslowlylowershishandfrommystomachtobetweenmylegs,spreadinggoosebumpsinhiswake.
“Toomuch,”Isayashebeginsplayingwithmyclit,mymovementsjittery.“Ican’tmovewhileyou’redoingthat.It’stoogood.”
“Thendon’tmove,”hecommandssternly.“IneedtofeelyoucomearoundmydickbeforeIlosemyfuckingmind.”
“Bo,”Ihiccup,bringingmyhanduptoplaywithmybreast.“I’msofull…”Isay,feelingmyselftwitchandtightenaroundhim.Irollmyneckback,lettingthebackofmyheadfallagainsthiscollarbone.
“That’sit,honey.Relax.I’vegotyou,”hesays,thecornerofhislipsagainstmyforehead.
Ibeginrotatingmyhipsinsmall,circularmotions,myasspressingintoBo’sabdomen.
Bomoans,brokenandgruffwithwarmbreathacrossmyhairline.
“Canyoucomewithme?”Iask,swallowingtightly,feelingabeadofsweattrickledownpastmyshoulderblades.
Bolaughsonce,withoutmuchhumourtoitatall.“Win,that’sallI’vebeentryingnottodo.”
“Please,”Ibeg.“Please,I’mclose.Iwantto.Together.”
Boappliesmorepressuretomyclit,keepinghismovementconsistentasIcontinuerotatingmyhips.Hepresseshisnoseintomyhair,breathingmeindeeplyashewhimpersagain.
“It’ssogood,”hesays,hisvoiceinanearwhine.
“Almost…”Isay,gasping.
“Almost,”herepeatsraggedly.
“Yes,”Igasp.
Bogrunts,pumpingintomefrombelow
MystomachtensesasIfeeltheanticipatorydrop,myheartskippingabeatbeforemybody’sovercomewithpleasure.“Now,”Icryoutaroundshakybreaths.
“Win,”Bosays,partingmynameintotwosyllables.ThenIfeelhiswarmthspillintome,sendingmefurtherintobliss.
Itrembleagainsthim,andhisholdtightensallaroundme.
“Shit,”hegroansoutbeforecollapsingbackward,takingmewithhim.HisbackfallsontothemattressasIfallontohim.Thesweatthathasbeendrippingdownmybackmeetsthehotfleshofhisabdomenunderneathme.
“Wow,”Isay,catchingmybreath,pressingmyeartohisneck.Hisheart’sbeatingalmostasfastasmine.
Bolaughs,justonce.“Damn.”
“Yeah,”Iagree,smilingtomyself,myeyesdriftingclosedwitheveryexhale.
Ifeelhisheavybreathsundermybackandbringmyhandsupovermyheadtotouchhisface.“Amazingwork,honey.”IthrowthenicknamebacktohimasIpathischeek.
“WhosaidIwasdone?”heasksmockingly,liftinghishipsandremindingmethathe’sstillverymuchinsidemeandgrowingharderbythesecond.“I’vebeenwaitingforthis…honey.”CHAPTER31
WewentfortwomoreroundsbeforeIdemandedashowerandsomerest.Bogavein,undertheconditionthatI’dsleepnakedandontopofhim.Itwaswithoutadoubtthebestsleepofmylife.Whenwewokeupthismorning,theroomwasstilldarkasrainpouredoutside.
ButI’veneverfeltbrighter.
Bostirsnexttome,hisnosetuckedagainsthispillowasheblinksawake,thenletshiseyesflutterclosedagain.Iwatchhimsleepshamelessly,noticingthedelicatetwitchofhiseyebrows,thestartledandsettledbreathsinbetween,therisingandfallingofhischest.Imemoriseeverydetailofhisface.Hiscupid’sbowtuckedunderasoftsprayofgoldenfacialhair,thetwenty-onefrecklesacrosshisforehead,cheeks,andnose.Thesmallfewonhiseyelidsthataremyfavourites.
Then,onceI’vehadmyfill,Isitupnexttohim,mybackagainsttheheadboardandmyblanketwrappedaroundmytorso.Iwakehimwithagentlebrushofmyhandacrosshisbeard.Hecracksoneeyeopen,hissmilesleepilysearchingashelooksuptofindme.
“Goodmorning,gorgeous,”hewhispers,hisvoicerough.Hewrapsonearmaroundmylap,holdingmyhip,thenpullshimselfoverme,hisheadlandingacrossmythighs.“Fivemoreminutes,”heyawns,curlingintomylegs.
I’mnotsureifit’stheproximityofhisvoicetomybellyorthewaymyheartstartedbeatingthatgotthebaby’sattention,butthey’reawakenowtoo.Greetingmewithflutteringlittlekicksonmyleftside.IplaceonehandwherethebabyseemstobeandonehandonthesideofBo’shead,usingmylittlefingerstostrokehishair.
AndIthinktomyself:lifehasneverbeensogoodasitisatthisexactmoment.TheonlythinglefttodoistellhimhowmuchIlovehim…andI’munpreparedtowaitfivemoreminutes.
“Bo?”IsayhisnamelikeIhaven’teversaiditbefore.Likeit’sforeignonmytonguewithallofthesenewfeelingsanddepththatitholds.“Bo…Ineedtotellyousomething.”
“Youhavetowait,”hesays,grumbling,talkingoutthesideofhismouthsquishedagainstmylap.“Iwanttosayitfirst,butI’mtootiredtodoitproperlyrightnow.Later.”
Ismilesowidethatittiltsmyheadback,pointingmyfaceuptotheceiling.“Saywhatfirst?”Iask,brushinghishairbackandtrailingmythumbfromthetopofhiseardownhisneck.
“Threebig,importantwords.Youknowthem,yes?”
“No,sorry,I’munfamiliar.Youbetterwakeupandtellme.”
“Youdeservebetterthanabedroomconfession.Thereshouldbespectacle,”hesays,smilingtohimself,hiseyesstillshuttight.“Pizzaz,”headds,sighing.
“Idon’tneedspectacle.”Ijustneedyou.
Bogroansashesitsup,hisheadhangingbetweenusuntilherollshisneckandgivesmethatclassicmischievousschoolboygrinthatkillsmeeverytime
“Morning,”hesays,pullinghisblanketfartheruphislaptocoverhisbottomhalf.
“Oh,goodmorning,”Iwhisper,leaningforwardtocapturehislipsinasinglelazykiss.“Somethingwakeyou?”
“Hmm,”hemoans,rubbinghiseyewiththeheelofhispalm.“Ididn’tthinkI’dfeelhungover.IfeltsoberwhenIgottobed.”
“Ah,butlove,you’rethirtynow.”
Hetiltshisheadslowly,hishairfloppingtooneside.“Ilikethat,”hesays,smiling.
“What?”
“Mydreamgirlisinbedwithme,callingmelove.”
“Dreamgirl,huh?”Isay,pullingtheblanketfartherupmychestwhenInoticehiseyesdiplower.Ineedhimtofocus.
“Howareyousoawake?”heasks,wideninghiseyesandblinkingslowly.“IfeellikeIswallowedrocks.”
“I’mactuallysober,remember?Thewholebabything?”Itease,rubbingmyhandfromhisshouldertohisneck,tiltinghisdroopingheadbackuptolookatme.“Wakeup.”Ineedhimtotellmehowhefeels.BecauseItrulyfeellikeI’mabouttoburst.“Ifyou’renotgoingtosayitfirst,Iwill.”
Hechuckles,lettinghisheadfallbetweenusagain.“Youknow,you’vegotareallyinterestingwayofkeepingmeonmytoes.I’vebeenfightingeveryimpulsearoundyoubecauseyousaidwehadtobenothingmorethanfriends.Then,afteronenighttogether,youwantallthecardsonthetable.Doyouknowhowhardit’sbeentonottellyoueveryday?MaybeIshouldmakeyouwait,”hesays,narrowinghiseyesatmeplayfully.
He’sgotapoint.I’veledthewaythisentiretime.Myboundariesandmyrules.He’skindlyandrespectfullyfollowedmeeverystepoftheway.That’sprobablyoneofthemanyreasonsI’msoinlovewithhim.AndIcouldlethimtorturemealittle—sinceI’vebeenunknowinglykeepinghimoniceallthistime.
Buthe’sabetterpersonthanIam.
IreachacrossandtakeBo’shandinmine,wrappingmypalmaroundhisfingersandsqueezing.Hissmileisstillhazy,buthiseyesareclearernow.Iwaitforasmalllookofpermission,alittlesoftenedcornerofhiseyethatsaysgoahead…
“Iloveyou,”Isay,squeezinghisfingersagain.“I’mfully,madly,deeply,andunquestionablyinlovewithyou.”
Bo’sshouldersfallonadeepbreathin,likehe’stakingmywordsinward.Hisfacecontentedandpatientandso,sohappy.
“I’vebeensoscaredoflettingmyselffeelthatwayagain.Ihavequestionedmyjudgement,myintentions,andmyreasoningsincewemet,butallalong,you’vebeenshowingmethatIcanrelyonyouwithlittleactseveryday.AndthosesmalldosesofkindnessandgenerosityandsupportandgentlenesshavechippedawayatthehardwallIbuiltaroundmyheart.Youneveraskedformore.Youneverrushedme.You…”
Iswallow,clearingmythroatfromtheemotionscloggingitasbestIcan.“You’veseenme.UnderstoodmelikeI’veneverbeenunderstood.AndIseeyounowtoo.Iseehowtrulylovelyyouare.Moreimportantly,Ibelieveit.Witheverythinginsideme,Ibelieveyou’regoingtobegentlewithmyheart.”
Boblinksrapidly,hiseyesflutteringashelooksdownbetweenusandpullsmyhandtohismouthbeforekissingeachknuckle.Heleansagainstmypalm,soIcradlehisface,andIfeelhisjawtrembling.“Iloveyou,Win.IloveyousomuchitmakesmefeellikeI’vehatedeverythingelseinmylifeupuntilnow.NothingcomparestowhatIfeelforyou.Notevenclose.”
“Thankyou,”Iwhisper,pressingmyforeheadtohis.
“Thankyou,”hereplies.
Iwanttoscream.Iwanttodance.Iwanttostayinhisarmsallday,allyear.Mostly,IwanttokisseveryinchofhisbodyandshowhimhowmuchIlovehimoverandoveragain.
“Kissme,”Isay.
Hissweet,post-confessionalkissismetwithmyheated,voracioushunger.Helaughsagainstmymouth,breathless,asIbegintrailingkissesdownthecolumnofhisthroat.
“Already,honey?”
“Getusedtoit,honey.”
BopullstheblanketsawayfrommychestandoffhislapbeforetuggingmetowardhimwithsuchforceIgiggleonimpact.
“Allright,”hesays,liftingmewithtwostronghandsonmyhipsanddroppingmeontohislap.“Let’sseehowmanytimeswecandothisbeforebreakfast.”
Boslideshisarmsundermythighs,liftingmeupashelinkshishandsbehindmyback,supportingmyweight.
“HaveImentionedhowmuchIloveyou?”Isayteasinglyashelineshimselfupatmyentrance,myheadrollingbackwithanticipation.
“You’llbechantingitsoonifIdothisright.”
Idartacrossthehalltothebathroom,coveredinonlyatowel,whileBogoestocheckifhisfatherisawakeyet.Ifheis,Bowillalsohavetodosomeexplaining.Andapologising,perhaps.Oldhouse,thinwalls,andwhateverelse.
Eitherway,notmyconversationtohave.ButIdotextSarahanupdateaboutournightandmorningtogetherbeforegettingintothesteam-filledshower.Iwatchwithgleeasmyphonebuzzesandlightsupsomanytimesonthebathroomcounterthatitslipsandfallsintotheemptysink.
Oncefinished,Idrymyhair,rublotiononmyslowlygrowingbelly,brushmyteeth,andtiptoebackacrossthehall.Oncethere,IfindafreshlybrewedcupofcoffeefromBoonmydresser.Heevenmadethebed.Idon’tthinkI’veevermademybed,butIappreciatethesentiment.
Idressinthick,blackleggings,myfavouriteemeraldgreenWestcliffsweatshirt,andapairofwoollysocks.Itiemyhairupinamessybunandmakemywaytowardthescentofsomethingdeliciousfromdownthehall,coffeeinhand.
“Morning,”Isay,slippingintothekitchen.
“Justme,”Bosays,flippingapancakeonthestove.“Dadreallymusthavehadtoomuchtodrink.”
“Shouldwewakehim?Whenishisflight?”
“I’mdroppinghimoffatnine.It’sanovernight.Let’slethimsleep.”
“Haveyoutalkedtohimaboutcomingtovisitoncethebaby’sborn?”Iask,fillingaglasswithicefromthefridge.
“NoActually,Iwasthinking…MaybewecouldgothereAlittlefamilyvacation…youeverbeentoParis?”
Ibeam,shakingmyhead.Family.That’sexactlywhatweare.“I’vealwayswantedto,butno.Maybewecoulddoalittleworldtour?Stopbymymom’stoo?”
“She’sstillnotsureaboutcomingupinAugust?”
“No…somethingabouthavingtopayanentrancefeetothisnewbusinessshe’sdoing—sheswearsshe’sgoingtoearnitbacksoonbut,”Isay,shrugging,“whoknows?”
“Doesyourmomknow…about…”Bogesturesbetweenthetwoofuswiththespatula.
Ismirkintomycoffee,takingalongsip.“Sheknewbeforeyoudid,actually.IsortofjustliedfromthestartwhenIdidn’tclarifyinwhatnaturewewerelivingtogether.Butnow,IguessIcancallitmanifesting,”Isay,goingupontothetipsofmytoestokisshischeek.
Boflipsapancake,noddingtohimself.“So,I’vebeenthinking…”
Sarcastically,Ilookbetweenthebathroomdownthehallandhim.“Inthelasttenminutes?DidIleaveyoualonefortoolong?”
“I’dlikeyoutoquitthecafé.”
“Bo.”Irollmyeyeswithaffection.“Ilikebeinghometoo,butIstillhavetosavemoneyforthecampandpaymyfairsharearoundhere.”Idrapemyhandaroundhisneck,rubbinghisshoulder.IlovethatIcanjusttouchhimnow.IlovethatitfeelslikemaybeIalwayscouldhave.“AndI’dgetyoufired…”Isayinalowhum.“Thosesweatersyouwearforworkandyourglasses?Theydoitforme.”
Bolaughs,histhroatworkingasheliftsapancakefromthepantoanalreadyfullplate,thenturnsofftheburner.“You’dstillbeworking.Justnotatthecafé.”
“Ialsoconsidersexworktobeanhonestliving,butgorgeous,that’snothappening.”
Boleansonthecounter,hishandflatontopofit.“IgotanemailfromJamesBurrough—theinvestor—thismorning.Well,lastnight.ButIwasbusythen.”Hewinks.“Isawitthismorning.”
Iplacemymugonthecounter,nearlychippingthethingwiththespeedIdoit.“And…”Iwavehimonwithbothhands.
“Andhewantstoinvest.He’soffering78percentofwhatweneed.”
Ibringbothhandstomyface,coveringmygasp.“That’samazing!”IthrowmyarmsaroundBo’sshouldersandhughim.Hestaysunmoving,otherthanbendingtotuckhischinintomyneck.“Butwait.ThatstillmeansI—”
“Iwanttoinvesttherest,Win.But…”hesays,tappinghisfingersonthecountertop.“Iwanttoknowmyinvestmentwon’tbeburningthemselvesoutrunningbetweentwojobs.You’vegotfourmoremonthsbeforethebabyshowsup,andIthinkifyouwereabletofocusonthecamp,youcouldmakesomeseriousprogress.”
“Bo,that’s…”Itrytodothecalculationsinmyheadandcomeupempty.“Thatis…”
“Onehundred,thirty-eightthousandandsixhundreddollars.”
“Youdon’thavethat!”Iexclaim,mymouthopen.
“No?”Hepoutshislips.“Huh…couldhaveswornIdid.”
“Bo…”Iwhisper,side-eyeinghim.“Areyourich?”
“Idowell.”
“Idowellsoundslikesomethingarichpersonwouldsay.Iknowyouhaveareallygreatjob,butthatissomeseriousmoney.”
“I’vebeenluckywithsomeinvestments.Adamirapproachedmeforsomeadvicewhenhefinishedschool,andIendeduppartneringwithhimonanapphebuilt.Itsoldoverayearagoforjustunderthreemillion.”
“Andwhenyousaypartnered,youmean…?”
“Igotabout30percentofthat.”
Igripmyforehead,laughingwithoutsound.“Thereissomuchmathgoingonthismorning.”
Bodropshishandfromthecounterandwrapsitaroundmyback,tuggingmetohim.“TherehavebeenalotofthingsIwantedtodoandsaytheselastfewmonths,andI’vebeenwaitingnotsopatiently.Thisisoneofthosethings.Nowthatyoutrustme,”hetiltsmychinuptowardhimwhenIlookdownbetweenus,“Iwantyoutoletmehelp,okay?”Henods,hiseyeslockedonmine,asifhe’stryingtogetmetodothesame.“It’syourturnnow,Win.”
“Myturn?”Iask,myvoicedistant.
“Everythingyoupouredintoyourrelationshipwiththat…”Bo’seyesflare,andhetakesabreath,steadyinghimself.“Idon’tknoweverythingyet—andI’dreallyliketotalkaboutitmorewhenyou’reready—butwhenyousaidyousupportedthatassholethroughschooljusttogetnothinginreturn,itdestroyedme.Soyeah,it’syourturnnow,Win.Togetbackthattime.Togettowhereyouwanttobe.Whereyoudeservetobe.Andnotjustbecauseyoudeserveit.ButalsobecausekidslikeHenrydo.Kidslikeuswhoneedthiscamp.So,please,letmebeapartofit.”
“It’snotuptoyoutofixJack’smistakes…”
“No,”Bosays,leaningdowntokissmejustonce,brushinghisnoseagainstmine.“Butitismyjobtoloveyouthewayyoudeservetobelovedfromnowon.”Hepresseshisforeheadagainstmine,breathingoutslowly.“Letmedothat,honey.”
“Okay,”Iwhisper,breathinghimin.Bostraightens,hisfacestillpointedtowardme.“Youpromiseyou’renotjustdoingthisbecausewe’vefinallyhadsex?”Isay,wincing.
Bolaughs,playingwiththehairovermyshoulder,twiddlingitmindlessly.“Asgoodasthesexis,no.It’ssomuchmorethanthat.”
“So…justlikethat?Iquitmyjob?”Iask,wrappingmyarmsaroundhismiddleandplacingmychinonhischest,lookingupathimadoringly.“Youreallydidwantakeptwoman.Iwasright.”
“Thesooneryouquit,thesooneryoucanfocusyourattentiononthecamp,”Bosays.“Plus,we’renotgoingtobejustusformuchlonger.AsexcitedasIamtohaveAugust,I’dlikesomemoreone-on-onetimebeforethen.”
“Hmm.Andsleep,”Iagree.
“Thattoo.”
“So…doweemailJames?Tellhimtheplan?”
“Well,we’regoingtohavetodoalotmoremath,becausenoneofthoseplanswemadematteranymore.Butthen,yes.”
“Ilovewhenyoutalkdirtytome,”Isay,wigglingmyeyebrows.
“First,breakfast.”Botwistswithinmyholdandhandsmeaplatewithaslywink.“I’vegottakeepyoufed,”hesays,brushinghisnoseacrossmytemple.“Forlater.”
IhaveafeelingI’mgoingtoenjoylaterverymuch.“Yes,forallthatmath.”
“Exactly.”CHAPTER32
Twenty-SixWeeksPregnant.Babyisthesizeofaneggplant.
“You’rebeingridiculous!”Ishout,stormingdownthehallafterBo.“Aprilfool’sdaywastwoweeksago,soifthisissomesortofprank,itisnotfunnyorwell-timed!”
Boturnssharplyintohisroom.Sorry,ourroom.Ikeephavingtoremindmyselfofthat.
Ifollowinafterhim,watchingashebacksawayfromme.He’saudaciousenoughtobelaughing.
“Ifyouwanttofightwithme,that’sfine,butcanitwaituntilaftertheinstallationguysleave?Thatwaywecanatleasthavemake-upsexwhenyou’redonebeingangry.”Hestopswhenhehitsthewall.Icornerhim,myfingerproddinghischestonimpact.
“You.Said.No.More.Gifts,”Isay,announcingeverywordwithapokeofmyfingeragainsthismuscle.
Heswipesmyhandaway,keepingittightlyinhisgrasp,andkissesmypalm,smilingintoit.“Ineversaidthat.Yousaidthat.”
“Robert!”Isnapmyhandback,momentarilyfallingintohissoft,lullingtrapoftenderkisses.
“Winnifred!”helaughsout,hiseyescreasingoneitherside.
Thenerveofthisman.“Don’t,”Isay,crossingmyarmsovermychest.
Headmonishesmewithagentleexhale,hisfacefallingintosomethingatouchmoreserious,butstillnotassincereasI’dlikehimtobe.Herunsahandthroughhishair,lettingitflopbackontohisface.
Hehasn’tgottenitcutsinceI’veknownhim,andIhavetoadmitIreallyloveitlonger.Moretogripontoinbedorplaywithwhenheliesacrossmylaponthecouch,watchinganothermovieI’llinevitablyfallasleepduring.
“Honey,it’sabathtub.Weneedoneeventually.WereweseriouslygoingtobatheAugustinthesinkforthenextfouryears?Abucket?Youwantit,Iwantit.What’sthebigdeal?”
“Thebigdealisthatyoudidn’ttellmebeforehandsoIcouldhavehadtheoptiontosayno.Everytimeyoudosomethinglikethis,Ifeelonestepclosertobecomingsomespoiledprincesswithnojobwho—”
“Youhaveajob,”heinterjects,placingahandonmystomach.HeknowswhenIgetriledlikethis,Augustkicks,anddammit,it’ssomuchhardertocontinuebeingmadwhenhe’ssmilingatmybelly,listeningtomeabsentlyasheawaitsthebaby’smovement.
“Withnoincome,”Icorrectmyself,movinghishandlowertothespotwherethebabywasalreadykicking.“Whoiswaitedonhandandfootandcontributesnothing.Youkeepdoingalltheseextravagantthingsforme,andI’muncomfortablewithit.I’vetoldyouthat.First,itwasthecamploan—”
“Notaloan.Aninvestment,”Boargues,spreadinghisfingerswideronmybump.
“Thenitwastheshed.”Iuseair-quotesaggressivelyaroundthewordshed,comicallyattemptingtodothemwithmysmallfingersaswell.
WhenBoannouncedhewasgettingashedforthebackyardforgardeningandstorage,Ididn’tthinkmuchofit.ThoughIdidhaveasneakingsuspicionitwasrelatedtoallmyquestionsaboutwhatthegardenwouldbloomintoinspring.Imadeplanstostartasmallvegetablegarden,andsuddenly,Iwastheproudownerofagreenhouse.Notashed.Abeautifulglassgreenhousewithrunningwaterandelectricity.
Becausethismanisridiculous
“Inmydefence,thathadselfishmotivations.Someofthelivingroomplantsdidmoveoutside,which—”
“Nowafriggin’bathtub!”Ishriek,thentakeadeep,centringbreathasheannoyinglytriesnottolaughatmyoutburst.“Bo,youhadaniceshower.Awalk-inshower.Onethatwasdesignedtosuityourneeds.Thisisabsurd.It’sunsafe,”Isay,myeyesfallingtomybelly,whereBo’shandsrestcomfortably.
“Fred…”Bosays,bringingahandtocupmyjawandtiltingmyfaceuptowardhim.Himandhisstupidlycute,albeitcondescending,grin.“It’sawalk-intubwithadoor.Emphasisonthewalk-inpart.Bestofbothworlds.Youneedyourbaths,honey.SarahandI—”
“Andthat’sanotherfuckingthing!”Isay,pokinghischin.Helooksdownatmyfingerwithknottedbrowsandreleasesonesharp,shockedlaugh.“StoptalkingwithSarahaboutallthesethingsbeforeyoutalktome.Shelikesbeingspoiled.That’sherandCaleb’sdynamic—notours.”
“It.Is.Not.A.Gift,”Bosays,bendingtokissmyforeheadlikeawoodpeckerbetweeneachword.“Agiftwouldbesomethingyouwant,notsomethingyouneed,”hesays,movingtowardthecorneroftheroomwhereI’veputapalmplant.“Isthisnew?”
Igrowl,turningawayfromhimasIflopontoourbedlikeadramaticstarfish.
Bosilentlymovestoshutthedoor.Thenhewalksoverandsitsnexttomyhipontheedgeofthebed.Hesaysnothing,nodoubtwaitingformetolookathim.ButIrefuse.“Ifyoureallyneedmeto,I’llsendthemhome.Butthere’sachancebynowit’stoolate.I’mprettysureIsawouroldshowerdoorbeingcarriedoutside.”
Icovermyface,groaningintomypalms.
Ilovebaths.Imissbaths.Admittedly,Ican’twaittotakeabathhere,inmyhome.IwantBotositintherewithmeanddohissudokupuzzlewhileIsoakandprune,listeningtomusicandtellingeachotheraboutourdays.Iwanthimtolookoveratmeandpraythebubbleswillturntowhite,silkyfilmsohecanseemoreofmybodythroughthewater.Iwanthimtopullmeoutoftherejusttodrymeoffwithhistongue.IwanttosoakinwarmwaterwhenIgointolabour,waitingouttheearlycontractionsintheplacewhereIfeelthemostatpeace.
Ijustdon’twantthistiltedscale.
Thisunevenscore.ThistallyI’mstillunconvincedisn’tbeingcounted.Bo’sgifts,kindacts,andgenerosityweighedagainstmine.ThecompetitionitfeelslikeI’mlosing.
“Idon’twantyoutosendthemhome,”Isay,myvoicemuffledbythehandsacrossmyface.
“Sowhatdoyouwant?Asnack,maybe?”
“I’mnotbeingcrankybecauseI’mhungry,”Isay,removingmyhandstoglareathim.
Hepurseshislipsandnodssarcastically.“No,you?Never.”
“Tellmehowtospoilyouback,”Isay,pouting.“Anddonotsayblowjobs—”
Boshutshismouthasquicklyasheopenedit,smilingcoylyashescratchesabovehiseyebrow.
“Ijustwantthistofeelfair,Bo.That’sallI’veeverwanted.”
Heplaceshispalmbackonmybellyandsighsoutalong,heavybreath.Heswipeshisthumbbackandforth,bunchingandstretchingmyT-shirtinitspath.Well,actually,hisT-shirt.Mostofmyclothesdon’tfitcomfortablyeversincemybumppopped.Irefusetobuyanythingnew.IlikewearingBo’sclothesbecausehegetsallworkedupoverit.Ithinkit’sbecauseit’salmostlikeannouncingtotheworldthatI’mhisHiswomancarryinghisbabyinhisclothing.
AndIlikethattheysmelllikehim.
“Iknow,Win.But,tome,itwillneverbefair.NomatterhowmuchIdo,you’retheonecarrying—”
“Thecampisgoingtotakeyears,BoYears.Ifitevendoeshappen—becausewhoknows?Thingscouldgowrong.Maybewecan’tfindaproperty.Maybeweopenit,andnoonecomes.Maybeitwillfail.Thenwhat?”
“Ibelieveinyouandthisidea,”Bosays,shiftingclosertome.“Butifitdidn’thappen,Iwouldneverholdthatagainstyou.Iwantthisforus.AndIbet,somedaysoon,you’llbeearningmorethanmedoingwhatyou’vealwayswantedtodo.”
“Butthatdoesn’tmeanyouneedtospoilme.”
“IwantyoutoloveitherejustasmuchasIlovehavingyouhere.”
“AndIappreciatethat,butthesethingsallfeellikenot-so-subtleremindersofhowlittleIhavetogive.”
“Honey.”Bolaughswithouthumour,hiseyespleading.“You’regivingmeeverything.”
“Just…talktomefirstbeforeyoudecidetodoanythingelsethisgrand,okay?NotSarah,notyourdad,notCalebortheotherguys,butme.Idon’tfindsurprisesfun.”
“Thisonewas”—Bosays,droppinghischinontomybellyandlookingupatmewithsoft,puppydogeyesashetiltshischeekagainstme—“wasn’tit?”
Irollmyeyes,fightingasmile.“Yes,”Iagreestubbornly.
“And…theothernight…thatwasasurprise,”Bosays,wettinghislipsasheliftshimselfovertopofme,kissinghiswayupmybodythroughmyclothes.
He’stalking,ofcourse,aboutthenewtoyhegotme.Well,us.AfterBotoldmeheheardmefromdownthehall,Iwasneverabletolookatmyvibratorthesame.Eventually,Ijusttossedit.But,asitturnsout,Bowantedtoplayoutthatfantasyandgotmeabrand-newonehecouldwatchmeuse.Hewantedtoseeifhisimaginationliveduptotherealthing.
Basedonthecrazedwayinwhichhebehavedafterward,Ithinkitdid.
ThenitwasmyturntoliveoutthefantasyI’dbeendenyingmyself,usingthesilkyblackropeBohadstoredawayinhiscloset.Turnsout,he’dboughtitforacosplayofsomekind,butthat’sbesidethepoint.Itdidthejobwell.
“Acompromise,”Isay,playingwithhishairashekissesacrossmybelly.“Surprisesunderfiftydollarsareallowed.”
“Howaboutfivehundred?”
“Whatdidyoudo?”Isitup,forcinghimsofarbackhenearlyfallsoffthebed.
“Nothing!”hesaysdefensively.Iraiseabrow.“NothingthatIcanreturn…”
“Newrule.Startingtoday,”Isay,floppingbackdowntothemattress.“Fifty.”
Hesmilesmischievouslyashecrawlshiswayupmybody,thenhelowershismouthontomine.“Agreed,”hewhispersagainstmylips.“Idoloveseeinghowlongittakesyoutobreakyourownrules,”hesays,droppinghissweetkissesdownmyneckandontomychest.
Immediately,mynippleshardenandbegforhisattentionthroughthethinlayersofmycottonbraandT-shirt.Damnthesehormones.I’mconstantlyfluctuatingbetweenagitatedandhornythesedays,withnotmuchelseinbetween.
Meanwhile,mybodyfeelsachyandswollenallover.Still,Bomakesitobvioushecouldn’tbemoreattractedtome.Ithinktheguymightactuallyprefermeknockedup.
“They’llhearus…”Isay,pantingasBobringsonehanduptopalmmybreastandlickshiswayaroundmynippleontheother,wettingthematerialwithhistongue.Isqueezemythighstogether,tryingtosubduetheoverwhelmingurgetohavehimrightnow.
“Well,then,makesureyousaymynameclearly,honey.Iwantthemtoknowwhomakesallthoseprettynoisescomeoutofyourmouth.”Hestandsup,pullingmyleggingsoffinoneswoop.Hethenthrowsmylegsoverhisshouldersashedropstohiskneesattheendofthebed.
“No,getuphere,”Ibeg.“Ineedyou.Hardandfast.”
“Gotsomewheretobe?”Bosays,hismouthhoveringabovemyclit,hisproximityteasingme.Hiseyesflickuptome,darkenedandfulloflust.Isubconsciouslytwistmyhips,risingtomeethim.ButthenIrememberIactuallydohavesomewheretobe.
“Yeah,”Ireplybreathlessly.“Theappointmentyoumade…”
“Oh,thestrollertesting?”heasks,kissingtheinsideofmythigh.
“Yeah,”Isay,gigglingasheticklesmylegwithhisbeard.“Stop,”Iwhine.
“Youcouldbealittlelate,”hearguesbeforeswipinghistongueupmyslit.Hehumsashepresseshismouthagainstme,sendingashudderupmyspine.
Isitupandwatchashiseyesrollbackintohisskullbeforetheyclosetight.
“Andyou’resupposedtobeworkingrightnow,”Isay,runningmyhandthroughhishair.
Heflicksmewithhistongue,flashinghisteethashesmilesupatme.“Iamtryingtodosomeofmybestwork.”
Imovemyselffartherupthebed,awayfromhim.“Please,”Iasknicely.“Iwantyouinsideme.Iwanttofeelyou.Iwant…Iwantitrough.”Imoveontomykneesinthecentreofthebed,removingmyT-shirt.
Bostands,unfasteningthebuttonsofhisjeansbeforepullingthemoffandtossingthemaside.“Fine,haveityourway.”Hetakesasteptowardme,hissmirkcrookedandhiseyesdeadlyasheholdsouthisarms.“C’mere,honey,”hesays,hisvoicearrogantashecrookshisfingersformetofollow.
“Can—Canwe?”Iask,bitingmybottomlip.IknowthatBo’salotmorecomfortableonhisfeetsincehegothisnewprosthesis,butwehaven’ttriedtohavesexstandingupyet.Plus,I’mnotexactlyaslightasIoncewasnowthatI’minmythirdtrimester.
“Let’sfindout,”hesays,shruggingashoulderasheleansoverthebed,attemptingtopullmetohim.
“Don’tdropme,”Isay,crawlingtowardhimenthusiastically.Bopicksmeupeffortlessly,andIcurlmyselfaroundhim,mylegshookedoverhishipsandmyarmsaroundhisneck.Hethentakesafewstepsbackwardaswekiss,turningusaswegosomybackhitsthewallwithaperfectamountofforce.
Oncebalanced,hegrindsintome,andIgasp,overcomewithaheadyneedforhim.Ireachbetweenus,tuggingmypantiesaside,thencuphimthroughhisboxers.Iworkhimoverwithmyhand,feelinghimhardenandtwitchunderneathme.Allthewhile,hiskissesareonmyface,neck,andshoulder.I’mgrowingimpatientanddamnnearfuriousatthethinlayerofcottonseparatingmefromwhatIwant.
IthrowmyarmbackaroundBo’sshoulderandtightenmygriptoholdmyselfup.“Takeitoffnow.”
Bonods,removinghisfacefrommyneckforhalfasecondbeforehisboxershitthefloorandhishandsarebackonmythighs,liftingmebackuphisbodyandintoposition.
“Areyoureadyforme,honey?”heasks,holdingmypussysocloseabovehimthatIliterallybeginshudderingwithanticipation.
Hetiltshiships,notchinghimselfagainstmyentrance.Iwhimperpathetically,beggingforhim.
“Isaid,areyoureadyforme?BecauseIdon’tplanonbeinggentlewithyou.”
“Yes,yes,I’mready.Please,”Ireply,myeyesscrewedtight,waitingforhim.
“Lookatme,”hecommands.“Eyesopen.”
Iopenmyeyes,butthey’reheavy,justlikemybreathing.“Please,”Iwhisper,lickingmylips.“Stopit,”Iwhinewhenheteasesmeagain.
“Tellmeyouwantthebathtub,”hesays,hisfacehardened.“Tellmeyouloveit.”
Iopenmymouthtospeak,butonlyagaspescapesashelowersme,angledsoIpressupagainsthishardness.Blissfulinandofitself,butnotwhatIwant.Nothiminsideme.
“Bo…”Iwhisper,rubbingmyselfagainsthim.
“Iknowyou’renotusedtoit,butsolongasI’maround,I’llbelookingafteryou,”hesays,voicelowandgruff.“Iconsideritmyjobandmyprivilegefromnowon.Youwantthingstobefair?SodoI.TrustmethatIknowwhat’sfair.Trustmetolookafteryou,Win.TrustmetotakecareofyouthewayIneedto.”
Heliftsmeup,thentiltsintome,fillingmesocompletelyittakesmybreathaway.
“Tellme.”Hegroansintomyneckasmyheadfallsbackagainstthewall.“Tellmewho’sgoingtotakecareofyou,”hesays,hismouthpressedtothesideofmycheek.
“You,”Isaythroughheavybreaths.“Youare.”Imovemyhandtohisface,turninghischeektokissme.Bopullsoutofme,hoistsmeup,thenhookshisarmsunderthebacksofmyknees,spreadingmythighswiderforhishipstoslotbetween.
“Holdontome,honey,”hesays,pushinghimselfintomeslowly.
“Fuck…”Igroan,myteethfindingmybottomlip.“Yes,”Iwhimperwitheverydeliciousinchofhimslidingin.
“Remember,”Bosaysbetweengruntsofeffort,ormayberestraint,“ifthey’regoingtohearus,letthemhearmyname.Tellthem”—hegroans,histeethatmyjaw—“who’stakingcareofyou.”
IbitemyliptothepointwhereI’msureIcoulddrawbloodasBobeginsrelentlesslypoundingintome,hittingthespotdeepinsidethatfeelsalmosttoogood.
“Fuck,”Icryout,thesoundmuffledbyhisneck.Myskinisheatingandblushingallover.I’membarrassedbutequallyexhilaratedtoknowwemightjustbeheard.Ibiteintohisshoulder,usinghimtomutethesoundsofpleasurethreateningtopourout.
Bogrunts,holdingmetohimandsteppingtotheright.Withonehandwrappedaroundmythigh,heusestheotherarmtoswipeoffthedresser.Adozenitemsclattertothefloor,butneitherofuscares.
Bodropsmeontothehardsurface,mybackfallingagainstthewallonimpact.Hetiltshishipsupandaway,agonisinglyslow,hiseyesdarkenedandheldonwherewe’rejoined,withonehandundermyknee,holdingmeopenforhim.
Thenhesurprisesme.
Bocoversmymouthwithhisfreehandforcefully,pushingthebackofmyheadintothewall.Hishoodedeyesfindmyshockedones,andhewaitsformysignal.
Inod.Saying,silently:yes,sir.
“Youdon’twantthemtohear?”heasks,leaninginsoclosemyeyeshavetowidentoseehim.Ishakemyheadno.“Okay,”hesays,hishandflexingovermyface.“I’vegotyou,”hesays,removinghimselffully.“Holdon,princess.”
Bostartsfuckingmesohardthatevenmoreitemsclattertothefloor,thedresserhittingthewallintimewitheachthrust.Hisvoiceisstrainednexttomyearashepraisesme.Asoliloquyfilledwiththefilthiestphrases.Goodgirl.Youtakemesowell.Yourpussyisperfect.You’resofuckingperfect.Iloveyou.
FromBo’slips,Iconsideritalltobepoetry.PraisessobeautifulandgenuineandearnestthatIcollecteachofthemandlockthemawayinsidemychest.
Mytoescurlasmypleasurebuildslikeawindstorminsidemybelly.ThelookofintensityonBo’sfaceasheusesmybodyfillsmewithdeep,achinglust.Withoutwarning,heremoveshishandfrommymouthandmovesittomyhip,grippingmyfleshashepistonsintome
“Please,”hebegs.Iknowwhathewants.Perhapshe’sfuckedalltheshameoutofme,butIdon’tcareanymore.Inodforhim,andhesmilesashetugsmetotheedgeofthedresser,anglingmejustright.
Iwhimper,throwingmyheadbackasIfeelanorgasmwashovermelikeawarmbreeze—subtlebutsodamnperfect.Thekindofreleaseyoufeelinyourbonesallthewaytotheendsofyourhair,possessingyourbodyandmind.
“Bo,”Icryout,gaspingattheimmediatefeelofhisreleaseashetremblesandstillsbetweenmylegsbeforeremovinghimself.
Iwatch,myheadhangingbetweenus,asBopusheshiscumbackinwithtwofingers.
I’mnotsurewhyIfinditsohot,butIdo.There’ssomethingsoprimalaboutit.Himwantingtofillme,eventhoughI’malreadypregnant.Likehe’ssaying,not-so-subtly,he’ddoitagainifhecould.Thathe’sgladforitall.
Heremoveshisfingers,andIopenmymouth,smilingwickedlyashepushesthembetweenmylips,andIsuckthemclean.
Helaughsinabittersweetway.InanIcannotbelievemylifekindofwaythathasmyshouldersliftingwithpride.
“So…”Isaythroughpantedbreaths,smilingattheceilingasmychestheaves.“Wecandoitstanding,then.”
Bo’sownchestisworkingovertimewitheachquickenedbreath,buthestillbreaksintoabeamingsmile,hisfacepointeduptotheceiling.“Seemslikeit…”hewhispers,morefromexhaustionthananeedtobequiet.Thatislonggone.
Whenhetiltshisfacedowntowardmine,lookingalltoopleasedwithaboyishgrinandanarrogantsatisfactionbehindhiseyes,Ikisshim.
IkisshimbecauseI’mgrateful,eventhoughI’moftenterribleatshowingit.
Ikisshimbecausehetrulydoeswanttotakecareofme.
IkisshimbecauseIthinkI’mgoingtolethim.
IkisshimbecauseIlovehim.
Moreandmoreeachday.CHAPTER33
Thirty-ThreeWeeksPregnant.Babyisthesizeofapineapple.
Itakeadeepbreath,coolingmyfrustrations,asIstaredeepintothemirroratmyownreflection.
I’vegotthecutedresson,theoneSarahinsistedIbuyfromthematernitysectionthatactuallyfitsmygrowingframe.It’sasagegreenfloor-lengthwrapdresswithwhitehand-sewnflowersalloverit.Ittiesintheback,creatingtheillusionofasmallwaistabovemynowprominentbump.Anditshowcasesmynewboobs—twosizeslargerthantheyusedtobe.
BothBoandIarebigfans.
I’vealsogotthemakeupon.Though,pathetically,bendingoverthesinktoapplymascarawascausingmetogetwinded.
What’smakingmefrustratedismyhair.
IhadthiswholevisionthatI’dbraidit,keepingitoffmyfaceinthiswispysortofwaythatmatchesthebohemianvibeofthedress,butit’sjustnothappening.
I’vetwistedandcontortedmyselfineverywhichway,tryingtoseeitinthemirrorasIreachovermyshoulder.ButnomatterwhatIdo,myrighthandwillnotcooperate,andIdropthethirdstrandeverytime.
OnceItoldBoIdidn’twantanymoresurprises,heconfessedaboutonethatheandSarahhadbeencookingupeversincehisbirthday.Abirthdaypartyforme.Except,knowingmethewaytheydo,theydecidedI’dratherkilltwobirdswithonestoneandhaveacombinedbabyshowerandbirthdayparty.
BoinsistedthiswayIcouldtellmyselfthepartywasforAugust,andsortofhimtoo—soIcaved.
ButnowI’mprobablyalreadylate,andIlooklikeI’veneverheldahairbrushinmytwenty-nineyearsoflife.I’mabouttothrowitintoalowponytail,cursemyrectangular-shapedforehead,andcallitadaywhenBoknockssoftlyonthehalf-openbathroomdoor.
“Needahand?”heteases,leaningonthedoorframe.
Irollmyeyes,smilingathisreflectionashemovestostandbehindme.He’swearingalong-sleevegreywaffle-knitshirtoverblackjeans,lookingasgorgeousasever.
“Classic.”Ishakemyhead.
“Nevergetsold,”hesays,kissingmycheek.
“Iwastryingtobraidmyhair,andnowIlooklikethis,”Isay,gesturingtothemessI’vemade.“I’veneverbeenabletobraid.I’mnotsurewhyIthoughttodaywouldbeanydifferent.”
Borestshischinonthetopofmyhead,curlingbotharmsacrossmychestasheholdsmetohim.“Youlookbeautiful,Fred.”
“Youhadtoruinthatcompliment,huh?”Isay,lettingmyhandsroamoverhisforearms.“IwillstartcallingyouBob.”
“Youlookbeautiful,stunning,anddownrightethereal…Fred.”
“Imightshavemyhead,”Iwhine,pouting.“WouldyoustilllovemeifIshavedmyhead?”
“Isthislikethatwormquestionyouaskedmelastweek?IstherealsoacorrectanswerIshouldknowabout?Yes,I’dstillloveyouifyouwereaworm,orbald,or—”
“Whendowehavetoleave?”Iask,interrupting.
“Aboutnow.”
“About?”
“Tenminutesago,probably.Butyou’reallowedtobelate.”Hepresseshislipstothetopofmyhead,thenreleasesbotharmsfromaroundme,bringinghishandsuptomyhairandpullingitallbackovermyshoulders.“MindifIgiveitago?”
Inodshyly.
Boseparatesmyhairintothreepieces,combingthroughthemwithhislongfingers,untangling.Thenheactuallybeginstobraidit.Iopenmymouthtoaskhow,butheintercepts.“Inmiddleschool,Ilearnedhowtomakefriendshipbraceletsbecausetherewasacutegirlinmyclasswhowasreallygoodatthem.IguessIneverforgot.”
“Thethingswedoforlove…”Isighout,admiringmyselfinthemirrorasBoreachesovermyshoulderforthehair-tieonthecounter.
“There,”Bosays,lettingthebraidfalldownmyback.“Ithinkthat’sgood?”
Hedidaperfectjob.He’sevenleftalltheloose,wispypartsinalltherightplaces.Icouldcry.
Actually,I’mverypregnantandveryinlovewiththeguy,soIdocry.
“Onemorething,”hesays,leavingmeinthebathroomallalonewithmywateryeyes.Igathermyself,fluffingmybangsinthemirrorbeforeturningtothesidetogetafullviewofmybump.Iplacetwohandsonitandrubbackandforth,soothingforbothme,andIhope,August.Everyday,Ifeelbiggerthanthelast,andmoreandmorereadytomeetthem.Andwitheverylittleaddition,BoandIbecomemoreprepared.
AfterImovedsomeofmythingsintothemasterbedroom—andsomeofBo’sitemselsewheretomakeroom—wefoundahappymediumwiththerestofthehouse.Decoratingtosuitbothofusandmergingourstylesintoone.Afterward,westartedonthenursery.
Bobuiltacribwe’dorderedofflinethatismadefromsustainablebamboo,andIpaintedthewallsasoftgreen.Weputmytrustedoldlavenderdresserinthereandboughtthecomfiestgreyrockingchairthatwebothnowliketonapin.Plus,ofcourse,someofmyplantsgotmovedintheretoo.Bohungupshelvesforbooks,andI’vebeenthriftinglittledecorartpiecesslowlyovertime.It’sreallycomingtogether.
BocallsitalittleHobbit’sden,whereasIthinkofitasmoreofanature-inspiredcottage.Eitherway,webothwin.
AndIsuppose,aftertoday,we’llhavealotmorethingstofillitwith.
Itraceonefingerfromthelargestpointofmybellytomychest,smilingtomyselfasIgo.WhenIlookup,IfindBoleanedagainstthedoorway,holdingamassivebouquetofwildflowers.
“Iwassupposedtogivethesetoyoulater,but”—heplucksoutastemofbaby’sbreath,breaksofffoursmallbranchesandthenmovestostandbehindme—“Ithinkthesewouldsuityourhair.”Onebyone,heslotstinybunchesofwhiteflowersbetweenthestrandsofmybraid,hiseyesconcentratedashefixesthemtobepreciselyright.
“Perfect,”hesays,straighteningandshovinghishandsintohispockets.
“Iloveit,”Isay,twistingtoadmireitasbestIcaninthemirror,seeingBodoingthesame.“Butyouneedsomethingtoo.”Ipickupapurpleranunculusflowerfromthebunch,breakitsstemshorter,andreachuptotuckitoverBo’sear.“There.”Ikisshim,justonce.“Nowwematch.”
Hesmiles,hiseyessparklingdownatme.“Readytogo?”
“Ready.”
Wemakeourwayoutside,handinhand,outintoabeautifulMayday.Thebirdsaresinging,theskyisbluewiththeperfectsplatteringofcloudsandthebreezesmellsfresh.Likenewlycutgrassandsunshinefilteredthroughblossomingtrees.Afterwhathasfeltlikealongwinter,I’msogratefultoseespringeverytimewestepoutside.
Still,I’msogratefulforwhatthiswinterbroughtme.
Bodriveswiththeradioon,butwetalkaboveitlikealways.Everydayweseemtotalkaboutnothingandeverythingallatonce.Everythought,everyfeeling,everymemoryrecounteduntilwerundry.Wecontinuetopourallofourselvesouttoeachother.Untilourhistoriesandstoriesstartedbecomingmoreofawoventapestrythanablankslatenothingtoo.Theinsignificantobservationsandthesillyanecdotesthatnooneelsewouldcaretohear.Thosearejustasimportant.
WhenwepullupintothedrivewayofSarahandCaleb’shome,IbrushmyhandoverBo’shairandontohischeek.Revellinginthesimplenotionthatheisreal.Thatsomeonecouldlovemethismuch.Choosetofillmeupinsteadofpourmeout.Buildafiretokeepmewarminsteadofburnmeout.
Sometimes,itfeelslikesayingIloveyouisn’tenough.Notwhenmywholelifehaschangedbecauseofthisman.
Bolovesmeforfree.
Noexpectations.Nodemands.Notasingleounceofselfishness.
Iloveyou,Ithink,rubbingmythumbacrosshischeekashesmilesshylyatme.
Iloveyoutoo,hesays,silently,whenhewinksbackatmebeforepushingopenhisdoorandrushingtoopenminebeforeIgetthechance.
“Sarahdoesn’tknowthatIknow,right?”Iwhisperaswewalkuptheirdriveway.
“No,shereallydidwantittobeasurprise.”
“Okay,”Isay,stoppingjustshortoftheirporchsteps.“How’sthisthen?”Iaskbeforeputtingonmybestshockedface,ahandgentlyinfrontofmypartedlips.
Bolaughs,histhroatbobbingashetakesthefrontstepstwoatatime.“Great.Veryconvincing.”Hepressesthedoorbell,andwewaitforwhatfeelslikealongwhilebeforeiteventuallyopens.
Butit’snotSarahontheotherside
“Mom?”Ichokeout,coveringmypartedlipswithashakyhand.
“Yep,lookedjustlikethat,”Bowhisperstohimself.
Mymother,whorecentlytoldmeshecouldn’tcomedownuntilChristmas,standsinfrontofme.Withherbleached-blondhairinlongbarrelcurls,orangetan,andlacey,tightoff-whitedress.WiththesamefamiliarwarmthinhersmilethatIwonderifI’llevernotmiss.
“Hi,baby,”shesays,openingherarmsasIrushintothem.
“What—how—when?”
“Askyourman!”shelaughsout,tighteningherholdaroundmeandswayingusfromsidetoside.Ilookoverhershouldertoseeaverysmug,proudBotakingourphotobeforeplacinghisphonebackintohispocket.
“When?”Iaskhim.
“RememberthatpurchaseItoldyouaboutthedaywehadthenewbathtubputin?TheonethatIsaidIcouldn’treturnpriortoouragreementaboutsurprises?”
Istepback,myhandsstuckonmymother’sshoulders.She’salittleshorterthanme,butherheelsmakeitsowe’realmostthesameheight.Ifindmyselfglancingoverherfromheadtotoe.“Youlookbeautiful,Mom,”Isay,admiringher.
“Ah,well,Ihadtomakeagoodfirstimpression.”ShetiltsherheadtowardsBo.
“Oh,right,I’msosorry!Bo,thisismymother,June.Mom…”Isay,sidesteppingtowrapmyarmaroundBo’sback.Thisis…myBo.”
“Verygoodtomeetyou,Ms.McNulty,”Bosays,extendinghishand.
“Anyoneevertoldyouthatyou’restupidlytall?”mymotherasks,laughingassheshakeshishandwithbothofhers.
“Yourdaughter,afewtimesaday.”
“And,please,youcancallmeJune.We’refamilynow.”Mymothercurlsherlipsin,smilingassheadmiresBoalittletoointently.Inoticeshe’syettoletgoofhishandandsmirkatmyfeet.“Youknow,Windidn’tmentionhowgorgeous—”
“It’sreallygoodtoseeyou,Mom.”Isay,pullingherarmawayandwrappingitaroundmine.“I’vemissedyou,”Isighout,meaningeverywordmorethanIthoughtIwould.
Mymomstops,hereyestracingmyfacewithasoftsmileIhaven’tseenmuchofbefore.Pride,Ithink.“Youlooksowell,sweetgirl.So…glowy.”Sheboopsmynosewithherfinger.
“Thankyouforcoming,”Isay,twitchingmynoseasIfightbacktears.“Sorry,thishappensnow,”Isay,fanningmyfaceandblowingoutalongbreath.“I’vebeencryingalotmorethesedays.”
“Don’tcry,baby.You’llruinyourmakeup.”
Ilaugh,atouchsadbutmostlyamused.SameoldMom.
“Howareyoufeeling?”sheasks,hereyesheldonmybelly.
“Very,verypregnant,”Ianswertruthfully,gettingachucklefromBo.He’sbeenamazing,butthethirdtrimesterhasbeennojoke.I’mtenderandsoreallover.Crankyandswollenandconstantlyhungryandirritable.Still,hetakesitallinstride.Everymoodchangeandcraving.
Shenodsknowingly.“Let’sgetyouinachair.”
“Wait,”Isayabruptly,makingmymomandBofreezeonthespot.“Howintenseisitinthere?”
Mymom’ssmiletwitches.“SarahdidwhatSarahdoes,butyou’restillearly.Ithinkshewantedyouherebeforeeveryoneelsesoyoucouldsettleinbeforetheyarrive.Andwe’resetupinthebackyard.Shethoughtyou’dlikethat.”
Ichokebacktearsagain.BecauseSarah’sawhoreforspectacle.Thesurprisemomentofasurpriseparty.Yetsheletmehaveasubtleentrancewithmymomatthedoorandtimetosettlein.
Inod,standingstraighter.“I’mready.”CHAPTER34
Stunned,IlookaroundSarah’sbackyard.
“Win!”Sarahsays,boundingoverinherbrightpinkdress.“Surprise!”
Idon’trespond.Can’trespondjustyet.Bo’sgothishandonthesmallofmyback,butotherthanthat,IfeelcompletelyuntetheredtotheearthasItakeintheview.It’ssobeautiful.
There’sonelongtablefornomorethantwentypeoplethat’scoveredwithwildflowersandlightgreentablecloths.There’saclothinglineoflinenbabyonesiesandapalegreenballoonarchoveratableoffoodanddrinks.Amostlyemptytablewithonewrappedgiftplacedontop.
“Sarah,I—”
“Beforeyousayanything,youshouldknowIwantedtogowaybiggerthanthisanddialleditback.Soifyousayit’stoomuch,Iwillpounceonyou.”
“Iloveit,”Isay,admiringmybestfriendwithtear-filledeyes.“IwasgoingtosaythatIloveit.Thankyou.It’sperfect.”
“Really?”Hersmileisproud,ifalittleuncertain.“Thateasy?”
Inod,smilingwide.“It’sbeautiful,Sar,”Isay,pullingherintoahug.“Thankyou,”Iwhisperoverhershoulder.
“Itwasn’tjustme,youknow,”Sarahsaysbeforewestepaway.ShelooksatBowithoneraisedbrow,thenbacktome.
Iplayalong,lookingupathimwithnarrowedeyes.“Didyouknowaboutthis?”Iask,tryingnottobreakasmile
“Guilty,”Bosays,raisinghishandsupintheair,lookingsheepishlyatSarah.
“Hedidthepartyfavours,”Sarahsays,pickingoneupandhandingittome.
Fred’sFlowers,Bo’shandwritingreadsonasmallwhitebox.Iturnitoverinmyhand.“Youmadethese?”Iaskhim,actuallysurprised.
Heshrugs,smilingcoyly.“Iwantedapiratetheme,butSarahsaidno.”
“Ididn’tthinkyou’dwanttoexplainthatparticularinsidejokeoverandover,”shesays,smirking.“Plus,Igavehimonepiratething,”Sarahsays,pointingtowardthegifttablewithletterblocksthatspellout“ahoythere,baby.”
“It’samazing.”Isay,smilingbetweenthem.“Seriously,itisexactlywhatIwouldhavechosen.Thankyou.”
“Wemakeagoodteam,”Sarahsays,pushingBo’sshoulder.
“It’sbecauseIdoasI’mtold,”Bowhispersintomyear.
“Yeah,you’reaverygoodboy,”Iwhisperback,pattinghischeek.
Theafternoonpassedinasweet,bustling,tenderblur.
Theguestsarrivedslowlyalittleaftertwelve.Mymothertookchargeofgreetingthemandguidingthemtowardthebackyard,proudlyintroducingherselfasGrandmaJunetimeandtimeagain.AllofBo’sfriends,whoIhopehavealsobecomemine,minglednicelywithafewfriendsofminefromWestcliffandmyex-coworkersfromthecaféthatSarahandBomanagedtotrackdown.Henryandhisparents,TonyaandJames,cametoo—andHenrygotabigkickoutofbeingtheonlykidattheparty.Sarahmadebeautifulcupcakes,eachdecoratedtolooklikeadifferentflower.AndCalebdidwhatCalebdoesbest,helpingwhereverneededmost.Whichwasconvenientlynearthefoodtable,alongsideBo,mostoftheafternoon.
ImanagedtoonlyblushhalfadozentimeswhileBoandIopenedgifts.Anditwastruly,genuinelylovely.Tofeelalltheloveforababythey’veyettomeet.Who,asBosaidduringhisspeech,wassuchawelcomeandneededsurprise.
Astheafternoonsunfadedtoachillyspringevening,thefewofusleftstandingtookthepartyinside,notwantingthedaytoend.WecalledBo’sdadtoshowhimhowmuchhewasmissedandintroducehimtomymom.MymotherhoggedthephoneforawhileasshesatcosieduponthecouchwithSarah.Naturally,shemadeonetoomanyjokesaboutthembothbeinghot,singlegrandparents.OrGILFs,asshecalledthem,muchtoSarah’samusement.
Eventually,BoandIsaidourgoodbyes,packedupourcarwithanabsolutelyabsurdnumberofpresents,anddrovehomealone—mymotherinsistingshe’dratherstayatSarah’s.I,admittedly,wasrelieved.I’msogladmymomishere,butI’mlearningthatsheandIdobestinlittledoses.
“Didyouhaveagoodtime?”Boasks,hishandonmythighasweturnontoourstreet.
“Ireally,reallydid,”Isay,turningtosmileathim.“Didyou?”
“Yeah,”hesays,pullingthecarintothedriveway.“Idid.”
“Ihaveapresentforyou,”Isayproudly.“IthoughtitwouldblowmycoverifIbroughtitwithus,butIwantedyoutohavesomethingtoo.”
“Iactuallyhavesomethingforyoutoo,”Bosays,turningoffthecar.
“Ibetmineisbetter,”Itease,takingoffmyseatbelt.
Bosmirks,shakinghisheadashegetsoutofthecarandwalksovertomydoor,helpingmeout.Wewalkhandinhandupthedrivewayandintothehouse.
Bowatchesme,softeyesbutserioussmile,asItakeoffmyshoesanddropontothecouch.
“What?”Iask,myeyesnarrowingonhim.
“You,”hesays,admiringmethoughtfully.“Williteverstop?”heasksslowly.
“What?”Isay,placingmyhandsonmybelly.“Growing?”Ilaugh,fallingbackward.“Idon’tseehowIcouldgetanybigger.”
“No,”hesays,stoppingnexttothecouch.Heliftsmyfeet,sitsdown,thendropsthemontohislap.“Notthat.”
“Thenwhat?”Iask.
“Wantingyouthismuch.”
Iraiseabrow.“Doyouwantittostop?”
Heshakeshisheadbeforepressinghiseartomybelly.Ibringonehandupandbrushoverhishairlovingly.“ThenIdon’tthinkitwill.”
“It’stiring,”hesays,lipssquishedagainstmybump.
“Ah,well,sosorry,”Ilaughout.
“No,Idon’tmeanitlikethat.Imeanthatitfeelslikemyheartisontheoutsideofmybody,”hesays,hisvoicelow.“AndImissyousomuch,evenwhenyou’rejustafewfeetaway.Ithinkaboutyoueverysecondofthedayandstruggletothinkofmuchelse.ImeantwhatIsaidthatfirstnight.Youaremaddening.”
Irunmyfingersthroughhishair,lettingitfallagainstthebackofmyknuckles.“Iknow.Ifeelittoo.Butit’salsokindofwonderful,right?”
Hesitsupafterpressingakisstomybelly,thenreachesunderthecoffeetableforabox.It’sthesizeofashoeboxbutwoodenwithadarkgrainandgoldenclasp.
“What’sthis?”Iask,sittingupeagerly,twistingtoplacemyfeetonthefloor.
“It’s…well,Isuppose,it’sus,”hesays,handingittome.“Sofar.”
Iholditinmylap,tracingthewoodwithmyeyesandpalm.
“Whenyoufirsttoldmeaboutthebaby,Istartedthinkingalotmoreaboutmymom.ThoughIdidn’thavemuchintermsofmemories,mydadhadallthese…remnantsofher.Hekepteverything.SoeverytimeIneededapieceofmymom,IknewIcouldgotohim,andhe’dshowmesomethingnew.”Boturns,placinghiskneeonthecouchtofaceme.“Hehadthisboxunderhisbedfilledwithphotos,jewellery.Thingsasinsignificantasbuttonsthathadfallenoffhercoatorpenniesshe’dpickedupoffthestreet.AllofMom’snotebooksfilledwithmusicshe’dwritten…journals,notes,letters…”Bosays,lookingtowardthediningroomovermyshoulder.
Ireachoutmyrighthand,puttingitonhiskneeandsqueezingasbestIcan.
Bosmileswistfully,takingadeepinhale,hiseyesturningbacktowardme.“Andthroughthosethings,throughthoselittlepiecesofher,Ilearnedthatherstorywasn’tjusthowitended.Ilearnedaboutherlife.IsawallthosescrapsofherDadkeptandrealisedhowdeeplytheyhadlovedeachother.”Heswallows,lickinghislips.“Iwantedourbabytohavethattoo.Evenifweweren’tinlove.Evenifthebabywasunexpected…Iwantedthemtohavesomethingtheycouldholdonto.Tangiblememories.Somethingthatmeantifoneofus…”hesays,hischinfoldingdownandhisvoicewobbling.“IfIgotsickagainand…”
Iputmyhandonhischeek,brushinggentlyalongthelineofhisbeardwithmythumb.“You’renotgoinganywhere,”Isayadamantly,noddingmyheadsohedoesthesame.
Hesmiles,tiltinghislipstowardmyhand.“Iknow.I’mnotallowed.”
“Damnright,”Iwhisper,myvoicewavering.
“Anyway,Iwantedthemtohavethis,”Bosays,pointingtothefastenerofthebox.“Butnow,IthinkIwantyoutoseeittoo.Because…IalwayswonderedifmymomknewDad’dkeptthesethings.Thathe’dbeensomadlyinlovewithher,thatshewasmemorializedbeforeshewasevengone.”
Iunhookthelatchandopenthebox,revealingthetreasuretroveofitemsinside.
“It’smostlyjustjunk…”Bosays,rubbingthebackofhisneckasIpulloutareceiptandreaditover.
“From…fromthecaféonCosgrove?”Iask.
“Thedayyoutoldmeaboutthem.”
Ireachin,pullingoutamasonjarofstonesandturquoiseseaglass.
“Fromourwalkstothebeach,”Bosays.
Ilaugh,tearsspringingfreeasIpulloutthephotoofusfromthatfirstultrasound—mydazed,confusedsmileinhilariouscontrastnexttoBo’sbrightenthusiasminthelobbyofthemedicalbuilding.Underneathitisaphotoofme,onethatIdidn’tknowhe’dtaken.I’mgardeninginthebackyard,dirtacrossmyfaceandtummystickingoutfromundermyT-shirt.Ithadtohavebeenlessthanaweekago.
“Andthis?”Isay,laughingasIholdupasmall,rectangularpieceofplastic.
“ImayhavetakensomeCatanpieces…fromthatfirstgamenight,”Bosays,shruggingoneshoulder.“Don’ttellSarah.”
Ipulloutthefather-to-bebookSarahgavehim,nowannotatedwithnotesinthemarginsandflaggedpageswithbrightpinktabs.Iflickthroughit,realisingthathe’sleftnotestothebabyamongstthepages.Tellingthemhowexcitedheisforeverystage.Howmuchhecan’twaittomeetthem.Yourmomisdoingsuchagoodjobatgrowingyou,Iread.She’sgoingtobeanincrediblemom.
EverylittleitemIpulloutnextfillsmyheartmoreandmore.Thepackoftwentyquestions,withshortformsofouranswerswrittenonthebackofeachcard.Hiscopiesoftheultrasoundphotos,scrappiecesofpaper,morecandidphotosofme—mybumpgoingfromunnoticeabletooverflowing.
“Thisisabeautifulgift,Bo,”Isay,wipingmytears.Imovetheboxtothecouchbesidemeandwrapmyarmsaroundhim.“I’msorry,”Iwhisper,crying.“Ionlymadeyousocks.”
“Ilovesocks.”
“Iloveyou,”Isay.
“There’sonemorethingthatItookout.”
“Hmm?”Iask,leaningbackasIwipemytearsaway.
“Rememberonthefirstday,ItoldyouIhidsomethingsothatyouwouldn’tfinditwhilesnooping?”Hereachesintothesideofthecouch.“Istashedithereearlier,fortherecord.Thisisn’twhereIhidit.”
“Somysterious…”Isay,mysmilefalteringintoconfusionashepullsout…oh.
“ThisIcan’texplain,”hesays,holdingouttheredbandannaIlostonHalloween.“ThisIkeptbeforeIknewanythingaboutthebaby.BeforeIknewhowmuchIwasgoingtoloveyou.Because,clearly,somepartofmealreadydid.”
Icovermymouth,lookingdownathishand,claspedtightlyaroundthebandannaasmybraincatchesupwithmysoaringheart.
“IthinkIknewthatIneededapieceofyoutoholdonto.IwaswalkingoutofthatroomandIsawthisonthechairnexttothedoorand…Idon’tknow.Ijustneededtotakeapartofthatnightwithme.”
“But…butyouleft.”
“Yousaidyouwantedcasual,Win.”
“Youreallyneedtostoplisteningtome,”Isay,tearsspringingfreeagain
“Noted,”Bosays,smirking.Hetakesalongbreath,steadierthistime,ashesearchesmyeyes.“Everydayforweeksafterward,Ithoughtaboutyou.Ithoughtaboutyoursmile.Yourlaugh.Youreyes…yourmouth.IcameclosetoaskingCalebforyournumber,butIwasscared.IwasscaredaftereverythingwithCora,withmycancer…withallofit,thatIwasn’tenough.ThatIwouldn’tbeenoughtogetyoufromcasualtomore.”
Ishakemyhead,refusingtoacceptthatheeverfeltthatway,wishingI’dknown,andplacemyhandinhis,squeezingtightly.
“Then,ononerandomdayinDecember,youtextedme.IfeltlikeI’dwonthelottery.”
Ilaugh,rollingmyeyes,asBobringsmyhandtohismouthandkissesmywrist.
“Eversincethen,I’vefallendeeperanddeeperinlovewithyou.Yourheart,yourkindness,yourstrength,yourjoy,yourselflessness.”Hereachesaroundme,droppingthebandannabackintotheboxalongwiththerestofourbeautiful,ifunconventionalstory.
“Bo,I…”
Heturns,reachingintothecouchagain,smilingmischievously.“Onemorething…”
“I’msearchingthecouchfromnowon,”Isay,wipingatearoffmycheek.“You’llhavetofindanewhidingspot.”
Heturnsbackaround,hispalmcoveringsomethinghe’splacedinhislap.Something,Isuspect,that’sshinyandinasmallerboxthantheonesittingnexttome.Iputahandonmystomachinvoluntarily,feelingthebabykickwiththequickenedrhythmofmyheart.
“Bo,”Ichokeout.
“Youaremysoul’spurpose,Win.Toknowyou,toloveyou,tobuildafamilywithyou,tospendeverydaytakingcareofyou,towatchyoushineandgetallthegoodthingsyoudeserveoutofthislife.”Boduckshisheadandrevealsthesmallleatherboxinhishands,openingittoshowmethemoststunning,simplegoldband.
“Yes,”Isayinvoluntarily,lookinguptohim.“Yes,”Irepeat.
Hechuckleslightly,shakinghishead.“CanIaskfirst?”
“Oh,yes.Sorry.”Iwavehimon,smilingastearsrolloverthecornersofmyupturnedlips.
“WinnifredJuneMcNulty,loveofmylifeandmotherofmychild,willyoupleasemarryme?”
“Iwill,”Isay,throwingmyselfathim.“Iwill,andIwillbeproposingbacktoyou.”
“It’sonlyfair,”Bosays,hislipstremblingagainstmyown.
“It’sbeautiful,”Isay,kissinghimsloppilyasheattemptstosliptheringonmyfinger.“Butit’sfartoosmall,honey.I’mverypregnant.”
“We’llgetitresizedwhenweputastoneonit,”hesays,holdingitouttome.
Islidetheringontotheringfingeronmyrighthand,whichit’sfartoobigfor.
“Itwasmymom’s,”Bosays,bringingmyrighthandbetweenus,twiddlingitwithhisthumb.“Ihopethat’sokay.”
“Absolutely,”Isay,punctuatedbyakiss.“Iwouldn’twantitanyotherway.”
Fortherestofthenight,Iweartheringonmysmallerthumb,refusingtotakeitoff.WeeatleftoverfoodfromthebabyshowerinourpyjamasanddancetoFrankSinatrainthediningroomafterward,mybellypokingoutbetweenus.
AlleveningIlookaroundthehouse,lookatmyfiancé,lookatmybelly,smilingwithsomuchgratitudeit’squitenearlypainful.ThinkingthatIcannotwaitforwhatevercomesnext.HowcapableIfeeltofaceitallwithBoatmyside.
AugustDurandwasbornat11:56pmonJulythirty-first,onlyfourminutesshyofhernamesake.HermotherdecidedonthemiddlenameSarah,andherfatherdecidedthathe’dneverwitnessedanythingasformidableashiswife-to-beduringlabour.Itwasashortbutintensedelivery—havingbarelymadeittothehospitalintime—buttheyheldhandsthroughitallandwelcomedtheirdaughterwithtearsstreakingdowntheirsmile-risencheeks.Asamatteroffact,thenewparentscriedfarmorethanlittleAugustasthenursesplacedheracrosshermother’schestfortheveryfirsttime.Theylaysidebyside,curledaroundoneanotherinsidethenarrowhospitalbed,andlookeddownattheirdaughterwithawe—completelyenrapturedbyeveryperfectpieceofher.Hercute,ifalittlepurple,feet.Hertiny,adorablehandsthattheycouldn’tstopreachingfor.Herbaldheadanddarkeyes,leavingthemguessingatwhoshe’llmostresemble.TheyspeculatedaloudtooneanotherinthosefirstfewmomentsthatnobabyhadbeenorwilleverbeaswiseasAugust.Theywatchedherassheseeminglytookinhersurroundings,hereyesopenedwideandsurprisinglyawareassheliftedherheadwithmusclesthatshockedeventhenurses.She’ssmartlikeherfather,hermothersaidquietly.She’sstronglikehermother,herfathersaidloudlytoanyonewhowouldlisten.Weloveyou,theywhisperedtoheroverandoverandoveragain.Thankyou,herfatheradded,kissinghermother.Ididit,hermotherwhispered,kissinghimback.
EPILOGUE
TenYearsLater
“Gus!”Ishout,trippingoverherpurpleConverseonmywaythroughthedoor.“Yourshoes…again!”
Charlie,ourfive-year-old,comesboundingoverassoonasIstepinside.Ikicktheshoesoutofthewaytoshutthedoorwithmyhipanddropmysuitcase.
“Wantsomehelp?”sheasks,holdingouttwohands.Ismileather,scrunchingmynoseasshedoesthesame.She’sgotfrecklesjustlikeherfatherandoldersisterdo.SometimesIwanttopaintthemonmyselfbeforeIleavethehousejustsoIcanmatchthemall.Joey,ourtwo-year-old,looksmorelikemewithherblackhairandblueeyesandnofrecklesyet.Andherdroolingandaffinityforpoopjokes,asBolikestopointout.
“Hi,baby.Thankyou.”IdropthebrownpaperbagfilledwithgroceriesintoCharlie’sarms,andshenearlycollapsesundertheweightofit.“Yousureyougotthat?IsDad—”
“Here!”Bosays,appearinginthelivingroomwithJoeygluedtohishipasalways.She’sgotawide-spreadsmileslatheredwithchocolateicing,andBo’sgotflouralloverhisnavysweaterandtrousers.“Wegotabitdelayed.Thegirlswantedtohelpmemakeyouawelcomehomecake,butthenJoeywastheonlyonewhostuckitout.Noneofthemareintheircostumesyet,andAugust,apparently,doesn’twanttobeapiratethisyear.Sonowthecakeisstillbaking,andnooneisdressedontimetoleave,andI’mnotevensurewhere—”
Igoonmytoestokisshim,cuppinghisfacewithmyhandtopullhimtherestofthewaydowntowardme.“Happyanniversary,darling.”Ipathischeek,searchinghiseyesuntilhetakesamuch-neededbreath.“Imissedyou.”
Bosettles,hischestfalling.“Hi,honey.Sorry.”Hebendsdown,kissingmeagain.“Howwasyourtrip?Wemissedyoutoo.Imissedyou.”
“Mamahome!”Joeysays,hermessyhandsreachingforme.Itakeher,kissingalloverherfaceasshesqueals.Bocomesbehindmeandtucksmyhairoutofthewaysosheatleastdoesn’tgetthatpartofmecoveredinchocolateicing.Wedon’thavetimeforshowersbeforeSarah’sHalloweenparty.
“Igrabbedextracandytoleaveoutontheporch.”IpointtothebagthatCharlieisstrugglingtodragacrossthefloortowardthekitchen.“Someoneshouldprobablyhelpher…”Imumble,followingafterBotothekitchen.HeswoopsdownandpicksupbothCharlieandthebagofgroceriesonhisway.Shegiggles,floppinglikeafishinhisarms.
“So,yourtrip?”heasksoverhisshoulder,droppingthebagontothecounterbutsnugglingCharliecloser.Wedon’thavefavourites,ofcourse.ButCharlieisBo’stwinineveryway.Whiletheysharethesamegoldenhair,hazeleyes,andfrecklesasAugust—Charlie’stemperamentisallBo.Augusthasstrongfirstbornenergy.Sincebirth,thatgirlhasbeenrulingourhouse.Hell,shewasrulingourlivesbeforebirth.
ButCharlieisourpeaceful,helpful,curiousgirl.Sheasksamillionquestionseverysingleday,especiallybeforebed.It’satactictodelaybedtime,ofcourse,butthey’reallsuchinterestingquestions,sowecan’thelpbutgivein.Boespecially.Heliesnexttoher,hislongbodycrammedintohersmalltwinbed,andtheyponderexistencetogether.
WhydoestheEarthhavesomanypeople?Willthereeverbetoomanypeople?Aretherepeopleonotherplanets?Galaxies?Dotheyhavechocolatetoo?
Shealsohashissweettooth.
Buttheyallhavethat.
“Honey?”Boasks,smilingsoftly.“Yourtrip?”
Ishakemyselffrommywanderingthoughts.“Sorry,yes.Itwasgreat.CampPiyettewasstunning.ItookpicturesofafewthingsIthinkweshouldtrytofitintothebudgetnextsummer.Also,they’vejustupgradedtobeall-season,andIdothinkweshouldseriouslyconsider—”
“Mom?”Augustsays,pullingherheadphonesoff,halfwayfromthebathroombacktoherbedroom.“Whendidyougethome?”Shetakesoffrunningtowardme.
“Hi!”Isayasshecrashesintomyside,theoppositehipfromherbabysister.Augustcirclesherarmsaroundmywaistandsqueezes.Because,suddenly,she’sbigenoughtoreachallthewayaroundhermamaanddosuchathing.
Iblinked,maybethreetimestoomany,andnowshe’sthisbig,stronggirlwithsomanycleverthoughtsandstrongopinions.
“Imissedyoutoo,kid,”Isay,mychinrestingonthetopofherhead.“Itwasfourdaystoomany.”
“Wait!Metoo!”Charliesays,tuggingBobythecollar.Hewalksovertous,laughingashedropsCharlieontomyshoulders.
“HappyHalloween,mylittlegremlins!”Isay,gigglingasIjuggleallthreeofthem.“WereyougoodforDad?DowestillgettogotoAuntieSarah’spartytonight?”IlooktoBoforananswer.
Hesmilesproudly,atiltofhischinasheadmiresallofhisgirls.“Itwastouchandgoforaminutethere.Therewasabitingincident,”hepointstoJoey,wearinganinsincerescowl,“andsomeoneelsefailedtotellmeabouthermathhomeworkuntilthenightbeforeitwasdue.”
“AugustSarahDurand,youknowithurtsyourfatherwhenwekeepmathfromhim.”
Augustrollshereyes.“Ijustforgot.IgotanAonit,though.”
“Courseyoudid,smartiepants.AndwhataboutMissCharlie?”Isay,shruggingmyshoulderssoshebounces.“Whatdidshegetupto?”
“CharliewasCharlie,”Bosays,grinningfromeartoear.“Shekepteveryoneinline.”
“Ialsofoundabird’snestinthebackyard.It’sempty…fornow,”Charlietellsmeovertopofmyhead.
“Abird’snest?That’samazing!”
“CanIgetdownnow?”sheasksBo,whonodsandwalksover,liftingheroffandplacingherontothefloor.Shetakesoffskippingtowardherbedroom.IshuffleJoeyupmyhip,butshereachesforBo,who’sgotawashclothreadyandwaitingtocleanherup.
“So…”Isay,turningmyfullattentiontoAugust.“What’sthisIhearaboutyounotwantingtobeapiratethisyear?”Iask,brushingherhairawayfromherface.Itracethelineoftheteeny,fadedscaronherforeheadwithmythumb.Sheranhead-firstintoourcoffeetablealittleafterherfirstbirthday.Bobrokeitdownintofirewoodtheverynextday.Weweresonewtoparenting,then.Sosensitivetoeverycut,bump,andbruise.Thatone,though,wasawful.“Havewefinallyoutgrownourlittletradition?”
“Willyoubeupset?”Augustasks,lookingcautiouslybetweenBoandme.
“No,ofcoursenot,sweetie.Just,whatwillyoudressas?It’sabitlatetogoshopping.”
“Iwasthinkingaghost.Ifyou’recoolwithmecuttingupasheet…”
Iimmediatelysenseherhesitancy.Thedoitfirst,thenaskforforgivenessafterwardattitudeIswearshesomehowinheritedfromherAuntSarah.BoandImakeeyecontactfromhiscrouchedpositiononthefloorashewipesJoeyclean.Hegrimaces,andIimmediatelyspotthemissingscissorsfromtheknifeblockonthecounter.
“Well,thatdepends,sweetie.Didyoualreadycutthesheet?”
“Maybe.”Shesmilesmischievously,twistingfromsidetoside.It’ssosimilartoherdad’sguiltyfacethatit’sveryhardtobeasannoyedasIprobablyshouldbe.ButIjustgothome.Ican’tbethebadcoprightaway.AndIwouldhavesaidyesifshe’daskedfirst.
Iclosemyeyes,noddingasItakeadeepinhale.
“Sorry,”shesayssoftly.“Itwasanoldone,fromthecloset.”
“Askfirstnexttime,kid.Gogetready.We’resupposedtobeoutofhereintenminutes.”Ikissherforehead,thenbenddowntopickupanownakedandcleanJoeyoffthefloor.“Andlet’sgetyouready,parsnip.”
BopullsthedelicioussmellingcakeoutoftheovenasIcarryJoeydownthehalltowardthebedroomthatsheandCharlieshare.Insidetheirorangeandfloralexplosionofaroom,IfindCharliealreadyhalf-changedintoherblackandwhitestripedleggingsandpullingherpiratedressoverherhead.
“Aye,aye,CaptainCharlie!”
“Aye,aye,Mommy!”shesays,gigglingassheunsheathesanimaginaryswordfromherbeltloop.
“Yourswordisinthecloset,”Itellher.
“Win?”Bocallsout,shoutingfromthekitchen.“Yourmomiscalling.Shewantstoseethegirls’costumes.”
“I’mdressingJoey!”Isay,forcingJoannatoremainstillbypinningherbetweenmyknees.She’ssomuchmoreactivethantheothergirlswereatherage—Iswearshe’dscaleawallifgiventhechance.“Tellherwe’llcallwhenthey’realldressed!”
Boappearsatthedoor,holdingaphoneinhishand,pointedoutwardtowardus,apologisingsilentlywithatiltedgrin.
“Oh,hey,Mom!Sorry,it’salittlebusyatthemoment,”Isay,lookingatBowithadeadlysmile.
“CharlieJune,areyougoingasapirateagain?”Momasks.ShealwayscallsherCharlieJune.ThemomentwetoldherJunewashermiddlename,GrandmaJunedecidedCharliehadtwofirstnames.
“Yes,Grandma,”Charliesays,runningovertothephone.“ButnotAugust.She’saghostthistime.”
“AndJoey?”
“Aparrot,”Isay,holdingheruptothescreen.ThebelovedcostumethateachofourgirlshasworntheirfirstfewHalloweens.“It’sdefinitelythelastyearit’sgoingtofitanyofthem.”IpouttowardBo,offscreen.“Icouldbarelydoupthezipper.”
“Iguesswe’lljusthavetohaveanother,”Bosays,givingthephonetoAugustasshepassesbehindhiminthehallway.Withtwoeyeholescutinnotexactlytherightplace,Gustakesthephoneandwalksaway,chattingbusilytohergrandmother.
“Andputthemwhere,exactly?”Iask,loopingmyarmsaroundBo’sneck.We’vealreadyfilledthislittlehousewithasmuchfurniture,children,andloveasitcanprobablyhold.Butwe’resentimentalpeople.Neitherofuswantstoleavethehomewherewefellinloveorbroughtourgirlshometo.We’vemarkedthegirls’heightsagainstthebedroomdoorsincetheycouldstand.We’veplantedanappletreeinthebackyard,abovetheirmakeshifttreehouse,thatisjuststartingtoharvestfruit.Thegreenhousehasgrownoverwithivy,theearthclaimingitback.AndIfeelthesame—claimedbythishouse.
Hehums,tuckinghisfaceagainstmyneckandbreathingmein.“Imissedyou.”
“Don’tdodgethequestion,”Isayashetrailskissesalongmyjaw.“Anddon’tdistractmeeither.”Igiggle.
“Haven’tyouheard?Ihaveahotshotwife.Shecouldbuyusafancynewhouse,”hesays,hishandsdriftinglowonmyback.
“Oh,couldshe,now?”Iask,tiltinguptokisshim.
“MaybeifIasknicely…”hesays,tuggingmylipbetweenhisteeth.“Ornotsonicely?”
“Imissedyoutoo,”Isay,brushinghishairoutofhisface.He’scontinuedtogrowhishairandbeardovertheyears,andIreallylikeitthislong.Itsuitshim.Healsoditchedthecontactlensesforglassespermanently—afterIbeggedforafewyears.
“Butnonewhouse.I’mstayingputhere.Thisisourhome.Howcouldwepossiblyleave?It’sbadenoughwhenwe’reupatthecampallsummer.”
“Fine,we’lldigoutthebasement.”
“Yes.Andhavecellarchildren.”
“They’llagelikefinewine,”hesays,smiling.“Don’tyouwantanother?”heasks,hishandsgrippingthefullnessofmyhipsasifhe’sreadytogetstarted.
“Doyoureallythinkwecouldhandleanother?Youjustspentfourdaysalonewiththem—youseriouslywantmore?”
“YouknowIdo,honey.”Hebrusheshisnoseagainstmine,thenhislips.“Wanttoplayworst-casescenario?”heasks,hismouthgentlybrushingacrossmine.“Or…bestcase?”
Afterthecampwasaroaringsuccessforthefifthyearinarow—andBocouldn’tresistknockingmeupforathirdtime—hedecidedtoquitcorporatelifeandbecomeafull-timedad.He’sneverbeenhappier.Still,threechildrenisalreadyalotofchildren.
Icheckmywatchandgroan,kissinghimonelasttime.Buthedoesn’tgetthememo.“Bo,hey,”Isaybetweenkisses,smilingagainsthismouth.“Quitit.We’regonnabelate.”
“Letmehelpyougetdressed,then,”hesays,scoopingmeupandhaulingmeoverhisshoulderasIlaughferociously.“Iseemtorecalltherebeingfishnetsoneyear.Canwebringthoseback?”heasks,turningthecornerintothehallway.
“Dada!”Joeysays,standingnexttoCharlie,whonarrowshereyesatme.“No!”
“We’vebeenspotted,”Iwhisper,holdingontoBofordearlifeashetakesoffjogging.
“PutMommydown!”Charliesays,gigglingassheswipesatBo’scalveswithherfoamsword.
“Never!”heshouts.
Yes,it’schaos.Andyes,wehaveourhandsfull.Butit’saperfectlittlelife.Abeautiful,contentedlife.Hoursspentbythewaterwhenwecan.Cosydaysonthecouchwhenweneedthem.Dancinginthediningroomwheneverwewant.
AndasAugustturnsthecorner,leaningagainstthewallassheshakesherheadatjusthowridiculousherparentsandsiblingsarebehaving.Ithankher,silently,forallshe’sgivenme.
Forallshe’staughtme.Forbringingherdadandmetogether.FormakingmerealisejusthowcapableIam.Foreverysinglewonderfulthingthat’shappenedsincesheenteredourlivesandflippedthemupsidedown.
AndIknowforcertainthatI’ddoitallagain.Acknowledgements
ThankyousomuchforreadingOutOnaLimb!Ipouredsomuchofmyselfintowritingthisone,andI’msogratefulyougaveityourtime.Ifyouskippedovertheauthor’snoteatthebeginning,I’dencourageyoutoreadit,asthatexplainsjusthowimportantthisstorywasformetowrite.
I’veneverreliedonmyfriends,family,andonlinecommunitymorethanwhileIwaswritingthisbook.Ithinkit’spartiallybecauseofthebusyseasonoflifemyhusband,kids,andIwerein,butalsobecauseofhowdeeplypersonalthisbookis.Often,IfeltasifIwasleavingtoomuchofmyselfonthepage—unsureifitwasatallentertainingorworthwhileforthereader.Sothistimearound,myprocessincludedalotoffriendsandmembersoftheromancecommunitywhowerewillingtolendmetheireyes,ears,andopinions.
A.k.a.Imadethisbookeveryone’sproblem.
Sothankyoutomyincrediblesupportsystem,family,friends,alphaandbetareaders,andeveryonewholetmevoice-noteincessantlyaboutthesecharacters.Specifically,Sophie,whospenthoursonthephonewithmeplanning,plotting,andde-escalatingmyanxiety—thisbookwouldn’texistwithoutyou.TabithaandTarah,fortheirfriendship,support,andguidance—Iadoreyoubothendlessly.Millie,forherkindness,enthusiasm,andfriendshipthroughoutthisprocess(andforinvitingmetoseeTaylorSwiftwithyou,becausethatwasthebestnightofmylife).EstherandLauraforbeingwillingtoputupwithmynonsenseandlovemedespiteitall.Natasha,Meg,Marianne,TaylorSmith,Kelsey,Janni,Gracie,andZarin(a.k.a.DoctorSalim),forbeingsuchincrediblechampionsofmeandmyworkandreadingeachandeverystageofthisbook.Christina,forbeingmyfirstwriter-friendandoneofthekindestpeopleIknow.TaylorTorres,JulieOlivia,R.M.Derrick,andLindseyLanza,formakingtheindieauthorcommunityamorebeautifulplaceandsupportingmethroughthisproject!AndAbi,whoistheSarahtomyWin(thoughwe’renotallthatsimilartotheminreallife).
Thankyoutomyeditor(saviour)Beth,mycoverdesignerMaryScarlett,andtheincredibleKelsey,whodesignedtheartworkforthetitlepage.I’mvery,veryluckytobeabletoworkwithyouall.
TotheBookstagramandBooktokcommunities,whoembracedtheNextseriesandallowedmetopursuethisauthoringthingfulltime—Ihaveendlessgratitudeforyouall.You’vechangedmylife,andmoreimportantly,mykids’livestoo.Theinternetcanbeanincredible,safe,welcoming,andencouragingplacewhengoodpeoplemakeitso—andthebookishcorneroftheinternetisthebestofthebest.
Then,themanofthehour,Ben.Idedicatedthisbook(myfavouriteyet)toyouforareason.Iloveyousomuchit’shonestlyabitgross.Ithinkyou’rethefunniest,kindest,hottest,mostdedicatedpersontoeverexist.Whenmybrainwasbeingmeantomeduringthisprocess,youtookitallinstrideandcontinuedtolovemethewayIneeded—asyouhavefortwelveyearsnow.Thankyoufornevermakingmefeelanythingbutcapable,strong,andbeautiful.I’msorryIborrowedsome(all)ofyournerdinessforBo.Imeantitwithonlythehighestpraise.Thankyoufortyingmyshoelaces,braidingmyhair,helpingwithbuttons,andallthethingsyoudotohelpmefeellessfrustrated.
Ifyoumadeitthisfar,thankyou,dearreader.Whetheryou’renewtomybooksorwhetheryou’vebeenheresincemydebut,thankyouforspendingyourtimewithmycharacters.It’satruejoytowritethemforyou.
Lastly,tomyfellowdisabledfolksofallshapes,sizes,abilities,andunderstandings—wedeservelovetoo.Mostofall,weareworthyofit.Butbesuretogiveittoyourselffirst.HAVEYOUREADHANNAH’SOTHERBOOKS?
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