“It’s because I do as I’m told,” Bo whispers into my ear.
“Yeah, you’re a very good boy,” I whisper back, patting his cheek.
The afternoon passed in a sweet, bustling, tender blur.
The guests arrived slowly a little after twelve. My mother took charge of greeting them and guiding them toward the backyard, proudly introducing herself as Grandma June time and time again. All of Bo’s friends, who I hope have also become mine, mingled nicely with a few friends of mine from Westcliff and my ex-coworkers from the café that Sarah and Bo managed to track down. Henry and his parents, Tonya and James, came too—and Henry got a big kick out of being the only kid at the party. Sarah made beautiful cupcakes, each decorated to look like a different flower. And Caleb did what Caleb does best, helping wherever needed most. Which was conveniently near the food table, alongside Bo, most of the afternoon.
I managed to only blush half a dozen times while Bo and I opened gifts. And it was truly, genuinely lovely. To feel all the love for a baby they’ve yet to meet. Who, as Bo said during his speech, wassucha welcome and needed surprise.
As the afternoon sun faded to a chilly spring evening, the few of us left standing took the party inside, not wanting the day to end. We called Bo’s dad to show him how much he was missed and introduce him to my mom. My mother hogged the phone for a while as she sat cosied up on the couch with Sarah. Naturally, she made one too many jokes about them both being hot, single grandparents. Or GILFs,as she called them, much to Sarah’s amusement.
Eventually, Bo and I said our goodbyes, packed up our car with an absolutelyabsurdnumber of presents, and drove home alone—my mother insisting she’d rather stay at Sarah’s. I, admittedly, was relieved. I’m so glad my mom is here, but I’m learning that she and I do best in little doses.
“Did you have a good time?” Bo asks, his hand on my thigh as we turn onto our street.
“Ireally,reallydid," I say, turning to smile at him. “Did you?”
“Yeah,” he says, pulling the car into the driveway. “I did.”
“I have a present for you,” I say proudly. “I thought it would blow my cover if I brought it with us, but I wanted you to have something too.”
“I actually have something for you too,” Bo says, turning off the car.
“I bet mine is better,” I tease, taking off my seatbelt.
Bo smirks, shaking his head as he gets out of the car and walks over to my door, helping me out. We walk hand in hand up the driveway and into the house.
Bo watches me, soft eyes but serious smile, as I take off my shoes and drop onto the couch.
“What?” I ask, my eyes narrowing on him.
“You,” he says, admiring me thoughtfully. “Will iteverstop?” he asks slowly.
“What?” I say, placing my hands on my belly. “Growing?” I laugh, falling backward. “I don’t see how Icouldgetany bigger.”
“No,” he says, stopping next to the couch. He lifts my feet, sits down, then drops them onto his lap. “Not that.”
“Then what?” I ask.
“Wanting you this much.”
I raise a brow. “Do youwantit to stop?”
He shakes his head before pressing his ear to my belly. I bring one hand up and brush over his hair lovingly. “Then I don’t think it will.”
“It’s tiring,” he says, lips squished against my bump.
“Ah, well, so sorry,” I laugh out.
“No, I don’t mean it like that. I mean that it feels like my heart is on the outside of my body,” he says, his voice low. “And I miss you so much, even when you’re just a few feet away. I think about you every second of the day and struggle to think of much else. I meant what I said that first night. Youaremaddening.”
I run my fingers through his hair, letting it fall against the back of my knuckles. “I know. I feel it too. But it’s also kind of wonderful, right?”
He sits up after pressing a kiss to my belly, then reaches under the coffee table for a box. It’s the size of a shoebox but wooden with a dark grain and golden clasp.
“What’s this?” I ask, sitting up eagerly, twisting to place my feet on the floor.
“It’s… well, I suppose, it’s us,” he says, handing it to me. “So far.”
