I roll my eyes, smiling at his reflection as he moves to stand behind me. He’s wearing a long-sleeve grey waffle-knit shirt over black jeans, looking as gorgeous as ever.
“Classic.” I shake my head.
“Never gets old,” he says, kissing my cheek.
“I was trying to braid my hair, and now I look like this,” I say, gesturing to the mess I’ve made. “I’ve never been able to braid. I’m not sure why I thought today would be any different.”
Bo rests his chin on the top of my head, curling both arms across my chest as he holds me to him. “You look beautiful,Fred.”
“You had to ruin that compliment, huh?” I say, letting my hands roam over his forearms. “Iwillstart calling you Bob.”
“You look beautiful, stunning, and downright ethereal… Fred.”
“I might shave my head,” I whine, pouting. “Would you still love me if I shaved my head?”
“Is this like that worm question you asked me last week? Is there also a correct answer I should know about? Yes, I’d still love you if you were a worm, or bald, or—”
“When do we have to leave?” I ask, interrupting.
“About now.”
“About?”
“Ten minutes ago, probably. But you’re allowed to be late.” He presses his lips to the top of my head, then releases both arms from around me, bringing his hands up to my hair and pulling it all back over my shoulders. “Mind if I give it a go?”
I nod shyly.
Bo separates my hair into three pieces, combing through them with his long fingers, untangling. Then heactuallybegins to braid it. I open my mouth to ask how, but he intercepts. “In middle school, I learned how to make friendship bracelets because there was a cute girl in my class who was really good at them. I guess I never forgot.”
“The things we do for love…” I sigh out, admiring myself in the mirror as Bo reaches over my shoulder for the hair-tie on the counter.
“There,” Bo says, letting the braid fall down my back. “I think that’s good?”
He did a perfect job. He’s even left all the loose, wispy parts in all the right places. I could cry.
Actually, I’mverypregnant andveryin love with the guy, so Idocry.
“One more thing,” he says, leaving me in the bathroom all alone with my watery eyes. I gather myself, fluffing my bangs in the mirror before turning to the side to get a full view of my bump. I place two hands on it and rub back and forth, soothing for both me, and I hope, August. Every day, I feel bigger than the last, and more and more ready to meet them. And with every little addition, Bo and I become more prepared.
After I moved some of my things into the master bedroom—and some of Bo’s items elsewhere to make room—we found a happy medium with the rest of the house. Decorating to suit both of us and merging our styles into one. Afterward, we started on the nursery.
Bo built a crib we’d ordered offline that is made from sustainable bamboo, and I painted the walls a soft green. We put my trusted old lavender dresser in there and bought the comfiest grey rocking chair that we both now like to nap in. Plus, of course, some of my plants got moved in there too. Bo hung up shelves for books, and I’ve been thrifting little decor art pieces slowly over time. It’s really coming together.
Bo calls it a little Hobbit’s den, whereas I think of it as more of a nature-inspired cottage. Either way, we both win.
And I suppose, after today, we’ll have a lot more things to fill it with.
I trace one finger from the largest point of my belly to my chest, smiling to myself as I go. When I look up, I find Bo leaned against the doorway, holding a massive bouquet of wildflowers.
“I was supposed to give these to you later, but”—he plucks out a stem of baby’s breath, breaks off four small branches and then moves to stand behind me—“I think these would suit your hair.” One by one, he slots tiny bunches of white flowers between the strands of my braid, his eyes concentrated as he fixes them to be precisely right.
“Perfect,” he says, straightening and shoving his hands into his pockets.
“I love it,” I say, twisting to admire it as best I can in the mirror, seeing Bo doing the same. “But you need something too.” I pick up a purple ranunculus flower from the bunch, break its stem shorter, and reach up to tuck it over Bo’s ear. “There.” I kiss him, just once. “Now we match.”
He smiles, his eyes sparkling down at me. “Ready to go?”
“Ready.”
