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 saysgo 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,sohappy.
“I’ve beensoscared 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.
“Thankyou,” 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 andoveragain.
“Kiss me,” I say.
His sweet, post-confessional kiss is met withmyheated, 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 dothisbefore 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 thisright.”
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.Andapologising, perhaps. Old house, thin walls, and whatever else.
Either way, not my conversation to have. But Idotext 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’veevermade 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?”
