“You deserve to have that ineveryexperience,” he says adamantly, parking the car and twisting his upper body to face me head-on. I feel my throat tighten at the intensity in his eye, and I grow lightheaded. “Thank you for giving that to me, when no one had given it to you.”
The strange thing is, I don’t think I did anything at all. Being with Bo was one of the easiest things I think I’veeverdone. Which, in a life filled with daily, mundane challenges, feels rather significant.
“I think we handled that questionverymaturely,” I say, lifting my chin and attempting to catch his eye.
Bo nods, his usual relaxed and happy demeanour returning slowly, starting in his eyes and then pulling up his lips. “Yeah, me too.”
“I’mstarving,” I whisper, tilting my head toward the restaurant.
“Yeah, me too,” Bo says, his stoic eyes held onme.
There should be Olympic medals for this level of restraint, I think, opening my door.
CHAPTER 22
We’reseatedataback booth in a restaurant bustling with the local demographic. A.k.a. wealthy people who also appear to exist in classy athleisure. A lot of Lululemon and L.L. Bean. Basically, who I want to be when I grow up and have more expendable income.
It’s a red-brick interior, with art hanging from a wooden rail around the restaurant that seems to be done by local artists, all for sale. There are mismatched chandeliers throughout, repurposed from old baskets, it would seem. It’s very cute.
“No menu?” I ask, glancing around the table.
“You can order anything you want. Even ketchup in a cup if you’d like.”
“What? What sort of restaurant lets you have a free-for-all?” I ask, admiring the expensive-looking stroller at the table next to us. I always feel a little shame for longing after such nice things, but I still do. I think it’s a consequence of growing up with hand-me-downs and thrift store finds. Sometimes, I just want to blow money on things for me. Especially the magenta, teal blue, and green anorak thata woman at another table is zipping up as her family prepares to leave.
“Your eyes are everywhere right now,” Bo says, grinning. “What are you looking at?”
“Oh, just… coveting.”
Bo snorts. “How biblical.”
“Maybe this is why I’ve never had money. The powers that be know I’d blow it all. But it’s justified if I spendsomeof my new disposable income on stuff for the baby, right? Like that stroller? Because that’s truly beautiful.” I tilt my eyes to the left, signalling for where Bo should look.
“You know, we always saythe baby,and I keep wondering if we should name them. Like a nickname, maybe, until we find out the sex and give them a permanent one.”
“I’d like to give them a fairly gender-neutral first name, I think. And I think I’d like to be surprised too?”
“Haven’t we had enough surprises?” Bo asks, his head tilting with a crooked smile.
My stomach rumbles, pulling my focus. “So how do we order if there’s no menu? Do we wait here or go up to the counter?” I ask.
“He’ll be out in a minute,” Bo says flippantly. “So we’re not finding out, then?”
“If that’s okay.”
“Of course. Whatever you want.”
“Are there any names you’ve always liked?” I ask.
Bo tilts his head, appearing deep in thought with his bottom lip pouted. “No, but there are definitely names Idon’tlike.”
“Oh, same. No exes or school bullies. No cringey television show characters. No shitty coworkers or mean customer service reps.”
“That last one was very specific,” Bo says, pouring two cups of water from the bottle left on the table.
“Brittany from Staples knows what she did.”
“Family names?” he asks. “What was Sarah’s mom’s name? She was special to you, right?”
