Out On a Limb(93)

When Bo announced he was getting a shed for the backyard for gardening and storage, I didn’t think much of it. Though I did have a sneaking suspicion it was related to all my questions about what the garden would bloom into in spring. I made plans to start a small vegetable garden, and suddenly, I was the proud owner of a greenhouse. Not a shed. A beautiful glass greenhouse with running water and electricity.

Because this man is ridiculous.

“In my defence, that had selfish motivations. Some of the living room plants did move outside, which—”

“Now a friggin’ bathtub!” I shriek, then take a deep, centring breath as he annoyingly tries not to laugh at my outburst. “Bo, you had a nice shower. A walk-in shower. One that was designed to suit your needs. This is absurd. It’s unsafe,” I say, my eyes falling to my belly, where Bo’s hands rest comfortably.

“Fred…” Bo says, bringing a hand to cup my jaw and tilting my face up toward him. Him and his stupidly cute, albeit condescending, grin. “It’s a walk-in tub with a door. Emphasis on the walk-in part. Best of both worlds. You need your baths, honey. Sarah and I—”

“And that’s another fucking thing!” I say, poking his chin. He looks down at my finger with knotted brows and releases one sharp, shocked laugh. “Stop talking with Sarah about all these things before you talk to me. She likes being spoiled. That’s her and Caleb’s dynamic—not ours.”

“It. Is. Not. A. Gift,” Bo says, bending to kiss my forehead like a woodpecker between each word. “A gift would be something you want, not something you need,” he says, moving toward the corner of the room where I’ve put a palm plant. “Is this new?”

I growl, turning away from him as I flop onto our bed like a dramatic starfish.

Bo silently moves to shut the door. Then he walks over and sits next to my hip on the edge of the bed. He says nothing, no doubt waiting for me to look at him. But I refuse. “If you really need me to, I’ll send them home. But there’s a chance by now it’s too late. I’m pretty sure I saw our old shower door being carried outside.”

I cover my face, groaning into my palms.

I love baths. I miss baths. Admittedly, I can’t wait to take a bath here, in my home. I want Bo to sit in there with me and do his sudoku puzzle while I soak and prune, listening to music and telling each other about our days. I want him to look over at me and pray the bubbles will turn to white, silky film so he can see more of my body through the water. I want him to pull me out of there just to dry me off with his tongue. I want to soak in warm water when I go into labour, waiting out the early contractions in the place where I feel the most at peace.

I just don’t want this tilted scale.

This uneven score. This tally I’m still unconvinced isn’t being counted. Bo’s gifts, kind acts, and generosity weighed against mine. The competition it feels like I’m losing.

“I don’t want you to send them home,” I say, my voice muffled by the hands across my face.

“So what do you want? A snack, maybe?”

“I’m not being cranky because I’m hungry,” I say, removing my hands to glare at him.

He purses his lips and nods sarcastically. “No, you? Never.”

“Tell me how to spoil you back,” I say, pouting. “And do not say blowjobs—”

Bo shuts his mouth as quickly as he opened it, smiling coyly as he scratches above his eyebrow.

“I just want this to feel fair, Bo. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He places his palm back on my belly and sighs out a long, heavy breath. He swipes his thumb back and forth, bunching and stretching my T-shirt in its path. Well, actually, his T-shirt. Most of my clothes don’t fit comfortably ever since my bump popped. I refuse to buy anything new. I like wearing Bo’s clothes because he gets all worked up over it. I think it’s because it’s almost like announcing to the world that I’m his. His woman carrying his baby in his clothing.

And I like that they smell like him.

“I know, Win. But, to me, it will never be fair. No matter how much I do, you’re the one carrying—”

“The camp is going to take years, Bo. Years. If it even does happen—because who knows? Things could go wrong. Maybe we can’t find a property. Maybe we open it, and no one comes. Maybe it will fail. Then what?”

“I believe in you and this idea,” Bo says, shifting closer to me. “But if it didn’t happen, I would never hold that against you. I want this for us. And I bet, someday soon, you’ll be earning more than me doing what you’ve always wanted to do.”

“But that doesn’t mean you need to spoil me.”

“I want you to love it here just as much as I love having you here.”

“And I appreciate that, but these things all feel like not-so-subtle reminders of how little I have to give.”

“Honey.” Bo laughs without humour, his eyes pleading. “You’re giving me everything.”

“Just… talk to me first before you decide to do anything else this grand, okay? Not Sarah, not your dad, not Caleb or the other guys, but me. I don’t find surprises fun.”

“This one was”—Bo says, dropping his chin onto my belly and looking up at me with soft, puppy dog eyes as he tilts his cheek against me—“wasn’t it?”