We make our way outside, hand in hand, out into a beautiful May day. The birds are singing, the sky is blue with the perfect splattering of clouds and the breeze smells fresh. Like newly cut grass and sunshine filtered through blossoming trees. After what has felt like a long winter, I’m so grateful to see spring every time we step outside.
Still, I’m so grateful for whatthiswinter brought me.
Bo drives with the radio on, but we talk above it like always. Everyday we seem to talk about nothing and everything all at once. Every thought, every feeling, every memory recounted until we run dry. We continue to pour all of ourselves out to each other. Until our histories and stories started becoming more of a woven tapestry than a blank slate. And thenothingtoo. The insignificant observations and the silly anecdotes that no one else would care to hear. Those are just as important.
When we pull up into the driveway of Sarah and Caleb’s home, I brush my hand over Bo’s hair and onto his cheek. Revelling in the simple notion that heisreal. That someone could love methismuch. Choose to fill me up instead of pour me out. Build a fire to keep me warm instead of burn me out.
Sometimes, it feels like saying I love you isn’t enough. Not when my whole life has changed because of this man.
Bo loves me for free.
No expectations. No demands. Not a single ounce of selfishness.
I love you, I think, rubbing my thumb across his cheek as he smiles shyly at me.
I love you too,he says, silently, when he winks back at me before pushing open his door and rushing to open mine before I get the chance.
“Sarah doesn’t know that I know, right?” I whisper as we walk up their driveway.
“No, she really did want it to be a surprise.”
“Okay,” I say, stopping just short of their porch steps. “How’s this then?” I ask before putting on my best shocked face, a hand gently in front of my parted lips.
Bo laughs, his throat bobbing as he takes the front steps two at a time. “Great. Very convincing.” He presses the doorbell, and we wait for what feels like alongwhile before it eventually opens.
But it’s not Sarah on the other side.
“Mom?” I choke out, covering my parted lips with a shaky hand.
“Yep, looked just like that,” Bo whispers to himself.
My mother, who recently told me she couldn’t come down until Christmas, stands in front of me. With her bleached-blond hair in long barrel curls, orange tan, and lacey, tight off-white dress. With the same familiar warmth in her smile that I wonder if I’ll ever not miss.
“Hi, baby,” she says, opening her arms as I rush into them.
“What—how—when?”
“Ask your man!” she laughs out, tightening her hold around me and swaying us from side to side. I look over her shoulder to see a very smug, proud Bo taking our photo before placing his phone back into his pocket.
“When?” I ask him.
“Remember that purchase I told you about the day we had the new bathtub put in? The one that I said I couldn’t returnpriorto our agreement about surprises?”
I step back, my hands stuck on my mother’s shoulders. She’s a little shorter than me, but her heels make it so we’re almost the same height. I find myself glancing over her from head to toe. “You look beautiful, Mom,” I say, admiring her.
“Ah, well, I had to make a good first impression.” She tilts her head towards Bo.
“Oh, right, I’m so sorry! Bo, this is my mother, June. Mom…” I say, sidestepping to wrap my arm around Bo’s back. This is…myBo.”
“Very good to meet you, Ms. McNulty,” Bo says, extending his hand.
“Anyone ever told you that you’restupidlytall?” my mother asks, laughing as she shakes his hand with both of hers.
“Your daughter, a few times a day.”
“And, please, you can call me June. We’re family now.” My mother curls her lips in, smiling as she admires Bo a littletoointently. I notice she’s yet to let go of his hand and smirk at my feet. “You know, Win didn’t mention how gorgeous—”
“It’s really good to see you, Mom.” I say, pulling her arm away and wrapping it around mine. “I’ve missed you,” I sigh out, meaning every word more than I thought I would.
