Out On a Limb(64)

“What did it mean?” I ask, so quiet I’m not sure he can hear me.

His jaw works, his eyes flicking over to my face with a nervous smile that twitches away. “I mentioned that since my surgery, I hadn’t been with anyone. I think I had started to convince myself that maybe I wouldn’t again. That no one would want me like that anymore.”

“But you’re you,” I say, foolishly interrupting.

Bo’s chin tilts up with a cocky smile. “I’d love to hear you expand on that.”

“Shut up,” I say, my cheeks warming.

He loosens his hand around the top of the steering wheel and swipes it across the leather. “You made me feel really wanted,” he says so earnestly that it lands in my chest, reverberating like an echo in an abandoned tunnel. “You…” He laughs anxiously. “Fuck, why is it so hard to describe?”

I recognise it. What he’s trying to say but can’t find the words for. Because I felt it too. So why did he leave?

“Seen?” I ask, making two fists in my lap.

He nods. “Understood,” he adds. “Like… I don’t know.” He laughs softly, looking up to the left. “Like maybe I’m fine as I am. As is.”

“When you kissed my hand… that’s how it felt. No one had done that before,” I whisper.

Bo looks at me briefly, his face shrouded in disappointment. As if he’d wished he hadn’t been the first. Which strikes me as incredibly selfless. I, on the other hand, enjoyed hearing that I was the only one who’d given him that acceptance. Perhaps, if I give him the full truth of what that night meant to me, it’ll redeem me some. He deserves to hear it, regardless.

“It was the very first time anyone had paid attention to that part of me during sex. None of my hookups or my ex included all of me in their lust. I felt wholly desired with you, Bo. Not just the best bits.”

Silently, we pull into a parking lot behind the restaurant.

“You deserve to have that in every experience,” he says adamantly, parking the car and twisting his upper body to face me head-on. I feel my throat tighten at the intensity in his eye, and I grow lightheaded. “Thank you for giving that to me, when no one had given it to you.”

The strange thing is, I don’t think I did anything at all. Being with Bo was one of the easiest things I think I’ve ever done. Which, in a life filled with daily, mundane challenges, feels rather significant.

“I think we handled that question very maturely,” I say, lifting my chin and attempting to catch his eye.

Bo nods, his usual relaxed and happy demeanour returning slowly, starting in his eyes and then pulling up his lips. “Yeah, me too.”

“I’m starving,” I whisper, tilting my head toward the restaurant.

“Yeah, me too,” Bo says, his stoic eyes held on me.

There should be Olympic medals for this level of restraint, I think, opening my door.





CHAPTER 22





We’re seated at a back booth in a restaurant bustling with the local demographic. A.k.a. wealthy people who also appear to exist in classy athleisure. A lot of Lululemon and L.L. Bean. Basically, who I want to be when I grow up and have more expendable income.

It’s a red-brick interior, with art hanging from a wooden rail around the restaurant that seems to be done by local artists, all for sale. There are mismatched chandeliers throughout, repurposed from old baskets, it would seem. It’s very cute.

“No menu?” I ask, glancing around the table.

“You can order anything you want. Even ketchup in a cup if you’d like.”

“What? What sort of restaurant lets you have a free-for-all?” I ask, admiring the expensive-looking stroller at the table next to us. I always feel a little shame for longing after such nice things, but I still do. I think it’s a consequence of growing up with hand-me-downs and thrift store finds. Sometimes, I just want to blow money on things for me. Especially the magenta, teal blue, and green anorak that a woman at another table is zipping up as her family prepares to leave.

“Your eyes are everywhere right now,” Bo says, grinning. “What are you looking at?”

“Oh, just… coveting.”

Bo snorts. “How biblical.”

“Maybe this is why I’ve never had money. The powers that be know I’d blow it all. But it’s justified if I spend some of my new disposable income on stuff for the baby, right? Like that stroller? Because that’s truly beautiful.” I tilt my eyes to the left, signalling for where Bo should look.

“You know, we always say the baby, and I keep wondering if we should name them. Like a nickname, maybe, until we find out the sex and give them a permanent one.”

“I’d like to give them a fairly gender-neutral first name, I think. And I think I’d like to be surprised too?”

“Haven’t we had enough surprises?” Bo asks, his head tilting with a crooked smile.

My stomach rumbles, pulling my focus. “So how do we order if there’s no menu? Do we wait here or go up to the counter?” I ask.

“He’ll be out in a minute,” Bo says flippantly. “So we’re not finding out, then?”

“If that’s okay.”

“Of course. Whatever you want.”