Out On a Limb(99)

I managed to only blush half a dozen times while Bo and I opened gifts. And it was truly, genuinely lovely. To feel all the love for a baby they’ve yet to meet. Who, as Bo said during his speech, was such a welcome and needed surprise.

As the afternoon sun faded to a chilly spring evening, the few of us left standing took the party inside, not wanting the day to end. We called Bo’s dad to show him how much he was missed and introduce him to my mom. My mother hogged the phone for a while as she sat cosied up on the couch with Sarah. Naturally, she made one too many jokes about them both being hot, single grandparents. Or GILFs, as she called them, much to Sarah’s amusement.

Eventually, Bo and I said our goodbyes, packed up our car with an absolutely absurd number of presents, and drove home alone—my mother insisting she’d rather stay at Sarah’s. I, admittedly, was relieved. I’m so glad my mom is here, but I’m learning that she and I do best in little doses.

“Did you have a good time?” Bo asks, his hand on my thigh as we turn onto our street.

“I really, really did," I say, turning to smile at him. “Did you?”

“Yeah,” he says, pulling the car into the driveway. “I did.”

“I have a present for you,” I say proudly. “I thought it would blow my cover if I brought it with us, but I wanted you to have something too.”

“I actually have something for you too,” Bo says, turning off the car.

“I bet mine is better,” I tease, taking off my seatbelt.

Bo smirks, shaking his head as he gets out of the car and walks over to my door, helping me out. We walk hand in hand up the driveway and into the house.

Bo watches me, soft eyes but serious smile, as I take off my shoes and drop onto the couch.

“What?” I ask, my eyes narrowing on him.

“You,” he says, admiring me thoughtfully. “Will it ever stop?” he asks slowly.

“What?” I say, placing my hands on my belly. “Growing?” I laugh, falling backward. “I don’t see how I could get any bigger.”

“No,” he says, stopping next to the couch. He lifts my feet, sits down, then drops them onto his lap. “Not that.”

“Then what?” I ask.

“Wanting you this much.”

I raise a brow. “Do you want it to stop?”

He shakes his head before pressing his ear to my belly. I bring one hand up and brush over his hair lovingly. “Then I don’t think it will.”

“It’s tiring,” he says, lips squished against my bump.

“Ah, well, so sorry,” I laugh out.

“No, I don’t mean it like that. I mean that it feels like my heart is on the outside of my body,” he says, his voice low. “And I miss you so much, even when you’re just a few feet away. I think about you every second of the day and struggle to think of much else. I meant what I said that first night. You are maddening.”

I run my fingers through his hair, letting it fall against the back of my knuckles. “I know. I feel it too. But it’s also kind of wonderful, right?”

He sits up after pressing a kiss to my belly, then reaches under the coffee table for a box. It’s the size of a shoebox but wooden with a dark grain and golden clasp.

“What’s this?” I ask, sitting up eagerly, twisting to place my feet on the floor.

“It’s… well, I suppose, it’s us,” he says, handing it to me. “So far.”

I hold it in my lap, tracing the wood with my eyes and palm.

“When you first told me about the baby, I started thinking a lot more about my mom. Though I didn’t have much in terms of memories, my dad had all these… remnants of her. He kept everything. So every time I needed a piece of my mom, I knew I could go to him, and he’d show me something new.” Bo turns, placing his knee on the couch to face me. “He had this box under his bed filled with photos, jewellery. Things as insignificant as buttons that had fallen off her coat or pennies she’d picked up off the street. All of Mom’s notebooks filled with music she’d written…journals, notes, letters…” Bo says, looking toward the dining room over my shoulder.

I reach out my right hand, putting it on his knee and squeezing as best I can.

Bo smiles wistfully, taking a deep inhale, his eyes turning back toward me. “And through those things, through those little pieces of her, I learned that her story wasn’t just how it ended. I learned about her life. I saw all those scraps of her Dad kept and realised how deeply they had loved each other.” He swallows, licking his lips. “I wanted our baby to have that too. Even if we weren’t in love. Even if the baby was unexpected… I wanted them to have something they could hold on to. Tangible memories. Something that meant if one of us…” he says, his chin folding down and his voice wobbling. “If I got sick again and…”

I put my hand on his cheek, brushing gently along the line of his beard with my thumb. “You’re not going anywhere,” I say adamantly, nodding my head so he does the same.

He smiles, tilting his lips toward my hand. “I know. I’m not allowed.”

“Damn right,” I whisper, my voice wavering.

“Anyway, I wanted them to have this,” Bo says, pointing to the fastener of the box. “But now, I think I want you to see it too. Because… I always wondered if my mom knew Dad’d kept these things. That he’d been so madly in love with her, that she was memorialized before she was even gone.”