Out On a Limb(63)

I hear a high pitch ringing in my ear. The sound of my libido screaming for mercy, if I’m not mistaken. “That’s probably for the best.” Bo changes gears between us, and the back of his knuckles brush the side of my thigh accidentally. Still, I can’t help but grind my teeth as I look out the window.

“Want to bust out a question before we get to the restaurant?” he asks, reaching into the inside lining of his jacket and pulling the deck of cards out of the inner pocket. He holds them out to me, his eyes flicking between the road ahead and my face.

“Sure,” I say, taking the cards.





CHAPTER 21





The universe is laughing at us.

“Hey, I saw that,” Bo says, his face twisting between me and the car in front of us. “No switching cards. What did it say?”

“Trust me,” I say, dropping the deck to my lap.

“We’re going to do them all eventually, right?”

“Yeah but—”

“No card-switching,” he says, signalling as he changes lanes. “New rule.”

“Fine.” I take the card back from the bottom of the deck and turn it over, holding it against my bouncing knee. “What has been your most significant sexual experience? What did it teach you?”

Bo doesn’t laugh, though I can tell he’d like to. “Good Q…” he says dryly.

“Solid. Not at all what we’re trying to avoid.”

“Perfect timing, really.”

“I can take this one,” I say, flicking the corner of the card against my knee repeatedly. The quicker we answer that, the quicker we can move past it. And hopefully get somewhere for food. “I mean… there’s nothing quite as significant as the time I got pregnant,” I joke weakly.

What I don’t say is that I’d also never experienced sex like that. The intimacy shared with someone I hardly knew. How much trust I had in him, despite that unfamiliarity. The moment he kissed my hand plays on my mind far more often than I’d care to admit. How desirable it made me feel. That he wanted me not despite my differences but, equally, for them. But I can’t say that; it’s far too intimate. Far too true.

“And I learned to take my birth control on time, that’s for sure,” I add.

“Would you?” Bo asks, his attention facing forward.

“Would I what?”

“If you could go back, would you have taken your birth control on time? Prevented this?” He asks it with zero judgement, his tone genuinely curious.

“Oh, I, um…” I bite my thumb nail as I consider my answer. As unexpected as this all was, as unrecognisable as my life is now, I doubt I would change a thing. I’d been directionless for so long. Keeping my head down, living the day to day with no real plans for the future. But now, I have my head up. Longing for what’s to come, as new and rewardingly terrifying as it may be. Planning for a life that isn’t entirely my own anymore woke me up.

“If that’s too intense of a question you don’t—”

“No,” I interrupt. “I wouldn’t have consciously decided to get pregnant. That wouldn’t be fair to you. But if I had the choice to go back, I wouldn’t. I needed this.” It’s a simple admission, but completely true. I needed this.

A deeper part of me realises, too, that I needed Bo. Someone who, from the moment I stuck out my hand, has understood me at a fundamental level that many people cannot. Someone kind, compassionate, hard-working who believes in me.

That’s enough, I think. To have a friend who believes in me. He doesn’t owe me any more than that.

“Me either,” Bo says decidedly, even though I didn’t ask. “I wouldn’t go back.”

His voice washes over me like warm, silky water passing down my spine. Relaxing every muscle. Dismissing a worry that I’d kept hidden, even from myself. “You’d choose this?” I ask, feeling the start of tears sting my nose. I want to say, me? You’d choose me?

“Yeah, I think I would. I know the timing isn’t exactly ideal, but if you lined up every other person in the world who I could’ve had a baby with, I’d choose you again. You’re going to be a fantastic mom, Win.”

I’d choose you again.

Every other person in the world.

I know he doesn’t mean for him, but for the kid. But the sentiment is still nice. That he thinks I’m going to be that good of a mother, when I so often doubt that I’ll be any sort of mom at all.

“Blegh!” I say, wiping a tear from my cheek that fell before Bo had even finished speaking. “Don’t be so nice to me. I’m starving, and this baby is obsessed with making me a sentimental, emotional mess. I’m weakened.”

“Want to ask another question?” he asks, smiling to himself as he exits the highway. “We’ve got about five more minutes.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say, sniffling. “I see you. You didn’t answer.”

He licks his lips, looking bashfully at the road ahead. “Same answer. Us.”

I had so many more words than him when I answered. But his answer carries more weight, somehow. I ignore the way my heart twists. I have to. “Same reason?” I ask. “The baby?”

“Kind of… The baby is a big factor, obviously. But, also, what it meant for me.” I watch his chest rise and fall on a heavy breath.