Well, the nausea is back.
A powerful maternal possessiveness falls over me. I know that I’ll need help with the baby, but no part of me has considered Bo to be anythingbuthelp until now. This, what he’s asking for, is so much more than that. I breathe through the influx of emotions rising up, waiting to calm down before I formulate a response. Logically, I know that what he’s asking is fair. That this baby is as much his as it is mine. But, perhaps a touch selfishly, I haven’t imagined any scenario where I’m not themainparent and Bo is the additional. The second, supporting parent not all of us got to have.
“I don’t know when that would be possible,” I stutter. “I’m hoping to breastfeed. For the first few months, the baby couldn’t be away from me for more than a few hours.”
“Maybe, er, well, could we do both? Bottles and breastfeed?” he asks, shyly. “I suppose I can only dooneof those things.” He chuckles anxiously.
“I’ve heard that it can be confusing for babies to switch, and it can mess with the mom’s milk supply and…” I take a deep, sharp inhale. “Okay, let’s put a pause on this. We don’t have to figure it all out right now. I was just going to say that I’ll focus on getting a new place. Something accessible and nicer if I can cover the rent. This apartment was the only affordable one left in the city four years ago, so I doubt I’ll find somethingmuchbetter, but I’ll try. We’ll aim for accessible and see where we land.”
“How much do you make at the café? If—if you don’t mind me asking.”
“A little over twenty grand a year, after taxes. Then, usually, about six thousand in the summer from lifeguarding.”
Bo rests both of his elbows on his knees, then curls his arms to support either side of his neck, appearing deep in thought. His eyebrows are pressed together, creating a deep crease in the centre of his forehead, and his jaw is tight, his back teeth shifting against themselves.
“Wewilltalk about all of this, Bo. I promise. It’ll be fair. To both of us. I don’t want to exclude—”
“Move in with me,” he says, interrupting, his eyes holding on me with a hesitant yet somehow certain stare. “I have a spare room and an office that we could turn into a nursery. My house is small, but it’s nice. If you move in, you can save money for a new place while pregnant, and we can get through the newborn stage together. I’d hate for you to be on your own for every long, sleepless night. I don’t want to mess with your routine or the baby’s feeding schedule so… yeah. What do you think?”
“I think you’re a stranger,” I say, taken aback, the words falling out of me.
“Not for long, right? What better wayisthere to get to know someone?” He clears his throat. “And, I mean, strangers move in together all the time and call themselves roommates.”
“What if we hate it? What if I’m a nightmare to live with? Oryouare?”
“Then… you can move in with Sarah and Caleb, maybe. Or, hell, you can have my house and I’ll find a hotel or something.”
“I don’t know. It seems like we’re already way in over our heads, and then we’d be roommates too?”
“Think about it for as long as you need to, but Ithink it makes sense.” Bo swallows, his eyes darting down to my stomach and holding for a lingering, heavy pause. “I can’t do much else right now,” he says lowly. “I can’t help in any other way, but Icangive you a place to live that will work for all three of us. If you moved in next month, we could agree to a year. Six months of pregnancy, six months of baby. Then we can reassess. You could save a lot of money during that time. It might even be enough to put a down payment on something. Or maybe you’ll want to stay a bit longer, or leave earlier… I don’t know. What I do know is that I want to help however I can, andthisseems like a way for me to do that.”
I think about the last time I moved in with a guy. Jack said all the right things too. How we werestarting the rest of our lives together.That we would save so much money by splitting everything.What do we have to lose?he asked me, dark eyes wide with excitement he never normally showed, his black hair sticking up on all ends. Sometimes it was like Jack was so filled with life it was firing out of him like bolts of electricity. He could charge me up just as easily as he’d burn me out. It was up to him each day which option it was going to be.
We had only lived together for a few weeks when Jack shouted at me for the first time. We’d gotten into arguments before, but nothing like that. I burned our dinner, and three hours later, he was stillberating me for wastinghisfood and smoking uphishouse. It was like that from then on. Even though I was covering most of the bills, it washisplace, his food, furniture, routine. I was infringing. A trespasser in my own space.
“I’d want to pay rent. At least a little bit,” I say, my eyes shifting from side to side as I think. “And I’d also like to have something in writing. Something legally binding that says we are committing to at least a year, and that if something happens where one of us has to leave before then, we will help with that person’s costs of moving or finding something new.” I mean me. There’s no way this guy would move into a hotel before kicking me out of his home.
“Sure, whatever you’d be most comfortable with.”
“And I’d like to be able to have friends over. Sarah and Caleb. I’d want to feel like it was my space too.”
Bo’s eyebrows push together again, his head tilting. “Of course, Win.” He stares at me a little too long. “It would be just as much your home as mine. You could paint the entire thing neon green for all I care.” He laughs. “Okay, well, maybe run it past me first. But you could.”
“I’m going to sleep on it,” I say, moving to pick up my gift basket. I offer him a tight-lipped smile as I stand. “I appreciate the offer, though. Thank you.”
“We’re in this together, Win.”
“I know,” I agree reflexively. I don’t truly know whether I believe it. Right now nothing feels certain at all. Not a single thing.
“Let me know when you get in safe.” He points to the stairs.
“Between here and the sixth floor?” I ask dryly.
“Yes.” He leans back farther on the bench. “Because I’ll be sittingrighthere until you let me know,” he says stubbornly.
I roll my eyes, shuffling the basket against my hip. “Fine.” I make my way across the lobby and onto the bottom step before I turn to ask, “Do you have your own washer and dryer?”
His smile is slow forming but entirely optimistic. “I do.”
