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.”
I unhook the latch and open the box, revealing the treasure trove of items inside.
“It’s mostly just junk…” Bo says, rubbing the back of his neck as I pull out a receipt and read it over.
“From… from the café on Cosgrove?” I ask.
“The day you told me about them.”
I reach in, pulling out a mason jar of stones and turquoise sea glass.
“From our walks to the beach,” Bo says.
I laugh, tears springing free as I pull out the photo of us from that first ultrasound—my dazed, confused smile in hilarious contrast next to Bo’s bright enthusiasm in the lobby of the medical building. Underneath it is a photo of me, one that I didn’t know he’d taken. I’m gardening in the backyard, dirt across my face and tummy sticking out from under my T-shirt. It had to have been less than a week ago.
“And this?” I say, laughing as I hold up a small, rectangular piece of plastic.
“I may have taken some Catan pieces… from that first game night,” Bo says, shrugging one shoulder. “Don’t tell Sarah.”
I pull out the father-to-be book Sarah gave him, now annotated with notes in the margins and flagged pages with bright pink tabs. I flick through it, realising that he’s left notes to the baby amongst the pages. Telling them how excited he is for every stage. How much he can’t wait to meet them. Your mom is doing such a good job at growing you, I read. She’s going to be an incredible mom.
Every little item I pull out next fills my heart more and more. The pack of twenty questions, with short forms of our answers written on the back of each card. His copies of the ultrasound photos, scrap pieces of paper, more candid photos of me—my bump going from unnoticeable to overflowing.
“This is a beautiful gift, Bo,” I say, wiping my tears. I move the box to the couch beside me and wrap my arms around him. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, crying. “I only made you socks.”
“I love socks.”
“I love you,” I say.
“There’s one more thing that I took out.”
“Hmm?” I ask, leaning back as I wipe my tears away.
“Remember on the first day, I told you I hid something so that you wouldn’t find it while snooping?” He reaches into the side of the couch. “I stashed it here earlier, for the record. This isn’t where I hid it.”
“So mysterious…” I say, my smile faltering into confusion as he pulls out… oh.
“This I can’t explain,” he says, holding out the red bandanna I lost on Halloween. “This I kept before I knew anything about the baby. Before I knew how much I was going to love you. Because, clearly, some part of me already did.”
I cover my mouth, looking down at his hand, clasped tightly around the bandanna as my brain catches up with my soaring heart.
“I think I knew that I needed a piece of you to hold on to. I was walking out of that room and I saw this on the chair next to the door and… I don’t know. I just needed to take a part of that night with me.”
“But… but you left.”
“You said you wanted casual, Win.”
“You really need to stop listening to me,” I say, tears springing free again.
“Noted,” Bo says, smirking. He takes a long breath, steadier this time, as he searches my eyes. “Every day for weeks afterward, I thought about you. I thought about your smile. Your laugh. Your eyes… your mouth. I came close to asking Caleb for your number, but I was scared. I was scared after everything with Cora, with my cancer… with all of it, that I wasn’t enough. That I wouldn’t be enough to get you from casual to more.”
I shake my head, refusing to accept that he ever felt that way, wishing I’d known, and place my hand in his, squeezing tightly.
“Then, on one random day in December, you texted me. I felt like I’d won the lottery.”
I laugh, rolling my eyes, as Bo brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my wrist.
“Ever since then, I’ve fallen deeper and deeper in love with you. Your heart, your kindness, your strength, your joy, your selflessness.” He reaches around me, dropping the bandanna back into the box along with the rest of our beautiful, if unconventional story.
“Bo, I…”
He turns, reaching into the couch again, smiling mischievously. “One more thing…”
“I’m searching the couch from now on,” I say, wiping a tear off my cheek. “You’ll have to find a new hiding spot.”
He turns back around, his palm covering something he’s placed in his lap. Something, I suspect, that’s shiny and in a smaller box than the one sitting next to me. I put a hand on my stomach involuntarily, feeling the baby kick with the quickened rhythm of my heart.
“Bo,” I choke out.
“You are my soul’s purpose, Win. To know you, to love you, to build a family with you, to spend every day taking care of you, to watch you shine and get all the good things you deserve out of this life.” Bo ducks his head and reveals the small leather box in his hands, opening it to show me the most stunning, simple gold band.
“Yes,” I say involuntarily, looking up to him. “Yes,” I repeat.
He chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “Can I ask first?”
“Oh, yes. Sorry.” I wave him on, smiling as tears roll over the corners of my upturned lips.
“Winnifred June McNulty, love of my life and mother of my child, will you please marry me?”
“I will,” I say, throwing myself at him. “I will, and I will be proposing back to you.”
“It’s only fair,” Bo says, his lips trembling against my own.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, kissing him sloppily as he attempts to slip the ring on my finger. “But it’s far too small, honey. I’m very pregnant.”
“We’ll get it resized when we put a stone on it,” he says, holding it out to me.
I slide the ring onto the ring finger on my right hand, which it’s far too big for.
“It was my mom’s,” Bo says, bringing my right hand between us, twiddling it with his thumb. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Absolutely,” I say, punctuated by a kiss. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
For the rest of the night, I wear the ring on my smaller thumb, refusing to take it off. We eat leftover food from the baby shower in our pyjamas and dance to Frank Sinatra in the dining room afterward, my belly poking out between us.
All evening I look around the house, look at my fiancé, look at my belly, smiling with so much gratitude it’s quite nearly painful. Thinking that I cannot wait for whatever comes next. How capable I feel to face it all with Bo at my side.