“Oh, uh, yeah,” Bo says distractedly. “Thanks,” he adds, filling in the square.
When I move away, his eyes follow me, dropping down to admire the hollow space between my breasts. He bites his lip and shuffles up the mattress, sitting straighter against the headboard. “Will the light bother you?” he asks, his voice a little hoarse. “I can turn it off.”
“All good,” I say, pulling out my phone.
“I’m almost done.”
It’s not until I catch myself yawning for the third time that I decide to look up from my phone. Bo’s sudoku book is closed on his lap, and he’s wearing a quiet, lazy smile as he looks down at my phone.
I’ve been looking at baby items online, compiling a list that Sarah’s insisted I needed to make for some sort of gift registry. I was dreading it, honestly, but I sort of got sucked into it the moment I realised how real it made it all feel. Looking at all the things our baby could be clothed, held, or wrapped in. It became more about August and less about me.
“Sorry. I disappeared into my own world. Are you ready for bed?” I ask.
“Those are cute,” Bo says, pointing to the little pair of crocheted shoes. I was debating whether I could make them myself before remembering the blanket I have to keep up with.
“Olive green or sage? I can’t decide.”
“Olive, I think.”
I add them to the list. “I sent you a link so you can add stuff on here too. You don’t have to but—”
“How do we stop ourselves from just buying all of this?” Bo asks, plucking my phone out of my hand. “Look at this bear! Gus needs this bear.” He taps add to wish list.
“Oh, wait! I have to show you what I found…” I say, taking the phone back and scrolling up the list before turning it back toward him.
“The ABCs of D&D,” Bo reads, his smile growing. “Did you add this already?”
“Obviously.”
He looks at me, his eyes twinkling even in the dimly lit room. “Thank you.”
I lock my phone and hold it out to him. “Could you plug that in for me?”
“Sure,” he says, doing just that.
I sit up, fix my pillows, and turn away from him to face the wall, curling myself around the body pillow pressed against it.
Maybe Bo’s body will just instinctively find mine in the middle of the night. One body seeking out warmth in another. Or I’ll get the courage to push my ass against his lap and call it an accident. We’re good at those.
Bo switches off the lamp, then lowers himself down the mattress, tucking himself under the blanket he brought with him. The room falls to a hushed, dull quiet. No crickets outside or nearby traffic. Only the sound of heads falling against feather-filled pillows and shifting blankets as we both settle into bed.
“Hey…” Bo whispers into the pitch-black room. “We didn’t ask a question today.”
I roll over, tucking a hand under my cheek. My eyes adjust to the dark enough to see that our faces are lined up. Bo’s scruffy hair and softened, sleepy expression look back at me. “No, I guess not,” I whisper back. “Do you have one?”
“I’ll think of something.” He shuffles a hand under his pillow, propping himself up slightly as he yawns. “It’s funny that we haven’t done this, right? Slept next to each other? We’re having a baby, and we live together, but I don’t even know if you snore.”
“I do not snore.” And I wouldn’t describe this situation as funny either.
“Or maybe you talk in your sleep,” he says.
“Do you?” I ask, looking between our bodies, the thin amount of space and bedding separating us.
“Guess you’ll have to find out,” he taunts. “How are you feeling? About tomorrow?” he asks.
“The ultrasound?” I clarify. Bo nods. “Mostly excited but a little nervous that something could be wrong, as always. You?”
“Me too.” He lets out a deep, woeful breath. “I’m sure everything will be fine, though.”
Just then, a fluttering sensation happens in my abdomen. A bit like when my stomach signals that it’s hungry, but less of a rumbling and more like a weaker type of muscle spasm. It happens again when I place my hand down to feel. It’s not until the third time that I realise it’s not my body doing anything. “I think… I think maybe the baby kicked.”
“Wait, seriously?” Bo speaks as if he’s whispering but does so very loudly.
I bite down on an embarrassingly large grin. “Yeah, I think so. But I’m not sure.” I roll onto my back, placing both hands on either side of my belly.
Do it again, I call through that channel I can’t name inside me that feels connected to the baby, like two cans on either end of a string. When it happens again, I gasp. “Yeah, they’re definitely kicking.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No, not at all. It’s like… bubbles popping under my skin.” I press my hand to another spot, following the sensation as it moves. “Do you want to feel?” I ask.
“Can I?” He immediately sits up, his blankets thrown away. I pluck his hand out of the air and bring it down to feel. Bo’s hand is warm and heavy against me. And achingly nice. His face appears cautious, as if he’s trying not to startle the baby by moving or speaking. An anticipatory, wide-eyed excitement across his features that has my heart wishing for it to happen again.
After a minute of waiting silently, I remove my hand from his, but he doesn’t follow.
“I think maybe they’re done for now. I’m sorry.”
“One more minute?” he asks, his voice awfully small. “Just in case…”
And his desperation does something to my heart. A tiny twist, like wringing out a wet cloth. I love him so much it’s truly painful. As if every time I resist telling him how I feel when the truth boils up so close to the surface, a tiny piece of myself withers and dies.
“Of course,” I say softly.
A few moments later, August decides to give the performance of their life—kicking far harder than before, right under Bo’s palm.
And I decide to order the stuffed bear first thing tomorrow.
“Was—was that it?” he asks, looking between me and his hand.
“That was it,” I say brightly.
“Holy shit… Hi! Hey there!” he yells to my stomach. I shush him, giggling. “Sorry, sorry.” He falls back, laughing as he swipes both hands through his hair. “That was insane. I can’t believe that.”
“There’s a whole person in there,” I say.
“I kind of forget how wild this all is. What your body is doing. What you are doing. It’s amazing…”
“You know what I found out the other day?” I ask, turning back onto my side to face him as he does the same. “If the baby has ovaries, that means I’m carrying all of their future kids too. I’d be like a Russian nesting doll of people right now.”
“I never even thought of that,” Bo says, in awe. “We’ve created a whole new line of people, potentially. A family tree. We could have descendants.”
I laugh, tucking my hands between pillows. “See what you’d be missing if you were out there on the couch? Baby kicks, fun facts…”