But he’s a better person than I am.
I reach across and take Bo’s hand in mine, wrapping my palm around his fingers and squeezing. His smile is still hazy, but his eyes are clearer now. I wait for a small look of permission, a little softened corner of his eye that says go ahead…
“I love you,” I say, squeezing his fingers again. “I’m fully, madly, deeply, and unquestionably in love with you.”
Bo’s shoulders fall on a deep breath in, like he’s taking my words inward. His face contented and patient and so, so happy.
“I’ve been so scared of letting myself feel that way again. I have questioned my judgement, my intentions, and my reasoning since we met, but all along, you’ve been showing me that I can rely on you with little acts every day. And those small doses of kindness and generosity and support and gentleness have chipped away at the hard wall I built around my heart. You never asked for more. You never rushed me. You…”
I swallow, clearing my throat from the emotions clogging it as best I can. “You’ve seen me. Understood me like I’ve never been understood. And I see you now too. I see how truly lovely you are. More importantly, I believe it. With everything inside me, I believe you’re going to be gentle with my heart.”
Bo blinks rapidly, his eyes fluttering as he looks down between us and pulls my hand to his mouth before kissing each knuckle. He leans against my palm, so I cradle his face, and I feel his jaw trembling. “I love you, Win. I love you so much it makes me feel like I’ve hated everything else in my life up until now. Nothing compares to what I feel for you. Not even close.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to his.
“Thank you,” he replies.
I want to scream. I want to dance. I want to stay in his arms all day, all year. Mostly, I want to kiss every inch of his body and show him how much I love him over and over again.
“Kiss me,” I say.
His sweet, post-confessional kiss is met with my heated, voracious hunger. He laughs against my mouth, breathless, as I begin trailing kisses down the column of his throat.
“Already, honey?”
“Get used to it, honey.”
Bo pulls the blankets away from my chest and off his lap before tugging me toward him with such force I giggle on impact.
“All right,” he says, lifting me with two strong hands on my hips and dropping me onto his lap. “Let’s see how many times we can do this before breakfast.”
Bo slides his arms under my thighs, lifting me up as he links his hands behind my back, supporting my weight.
“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” I say teasingly as he lines himself up at my entrance, my head rolling back with anticipation.
“You’ll be chanting it soon if I do this right.”
I dart across the hall to the bathroom, covered in only a towel, while Bo goes to check if his father is awake yet. If he is, Bo will also have to do some explaining. And apologising, perhaps. Old house, thin walls, and whatever else.
Either way, not my conversation to have. But I do text Sarah an update about our night and morning together before getting into the steam-filled shower. I watch with glee as my phone buzzes and lights up so many times on the bathroom counter that it slips and falls into the empty sink.
Once finished, I dry my hair, rub lotion on my slowly growing belly, brush my teeth, and tiptoe back across the hall. Once there, I find a freshly brewed cup of coffee from Bo on my dresser. He even made the bed. I don’t think I’ve ever made my bed, but I appreciate the sentiment.
I dress in thick, black leggings, my favourite emerald green Westcliff sweatshirt, and a pair of woolly socks. I tie my hair up in a messy bun and make my way toward the scent of something delicious from down the hall, coffee in hand.
“Morning,” I say, slipping into the kitchen.
“Just me,” Bo says, flipping a pancake on the stove. “Dad really must have had too much to drink.”
“Should we wake him? When is his flight?”
“I’m dropping him off at nine. It’s an overnight. Let’s let him sleep.”
“Have you talked to him about coming to visit once the baby’s born?” I ask, filling a glass with ice from the fridge.
“No. Actually, I was thinking… Maybe we could go there. A little family vacation… you ever been to Paris?”
I beam, shaking my head. Family. That’s exactly what we are. “I’ve always wanted to, but no. Maybe we could do a little world tour? Stop by my mom’s too?”
“She’s still not sure about coming up in August?”
“No… something about having to pay an entrance fee to this new business she’s doing—she swears she’s going to earn it back soon but,” I say, shrugging, “who knows?”
“Does your mom know… about…” Bo gestures between the two of us with the spatula.
I smirk into my coffee, taking a long sip. “She knew before you did, actually. I sort of just lied from the start when I didn’t clarify in what nature we were living together. But now, I guess I can call it manifesting,” I say, going up onto the tips of my toes to kiss his cheek.
Bo flips a pancake, nodding to himself. “So, I’ve been thinking…”
Sarcastically, I look between the bathroom down the hall and him. “In the last ten minutes? Did I leave you alone for too long?”
“I’d like you to quit the café.”
“Bo.” I roll my eyes with affection. “I like being home too, but I still have to save money for the camp and pay my fair share around here.” I drape my hand around his neck, rubbing his shoulder. I love that I can just touch him now. I love that it feels like maybe I always could have. “And I’d get you fired…” I say in a low hum. “Those sweaters you wear for work and your glasses? They do it for me.”
Bo laughs, his throat working as he lifts a pancake from the pan to an already full plate, then turns off the burner. “You’d still be working. Just not at the café.”
“I also consider sex work to be an honest living, but gorgeous, that’s not happening.”
Bo leans on the counter, his hand flat on top of it. “I got an email from James Burrough—the investor—this morning. Well, last night. But I was busy then.” He winks. “I saw it this morning.”
I place my mug on the counter, nearly chipping the thing with the speed I do it. “And…” I wave him on with both hands.
“And he wants to invest. He’s offering 78 percent of what we need.”
I bring both hands to my face, covering my gasp. “That’s amazing!” I throw my arms around Bo’s shoulders and hug him. He stays unmoving, other than bending to tuck his chin into my neck. “But wait. That still means I—”
“I want to invest the rest, Win. But…” he says, tapping his fingers on the countertop. “I want to know my investment won’t be burning themselves out running between two jobs. You’ve got four more months before the baby shows up, and I think if you were able to focus on the camp, you could make some serious progress.”
“Bo, that’s…” I try to do the calculations in my head and come up empty. “That is…”