I mumble a sleepy, quiet agreement in place of the wordperfect.
And so he holds me.
His thumb moves in slow circles, as if he’s in no hurry. As if he has zero expectations for more.
With no words needing to be said. With no promises yet to be made.
And I let it be.
I let myself feel content. I let myself feel less lonely. I let myself feel safe. Because Iam.
“I love you,” I whisper once I’m absolutely sure he’s asleep—his steady breathing loud and throaty.
And I feel lighter for it as I drift off to sleep.
CHAPTER 28
Iwokeupalone,with no proof of last night other than Bo’s glasses on the nightstand and his prosthesis still laid up against the wall.
He’ll be coming back for those, I think to myself. So I stretch with a yawn and let my eyes drift shut once again.
But they don’t stay closed for long. I wake to pots and pans clattering from down the hall, alerting the rest of my senses to the light coming in through the window and the smell of vanilla wafting through the house.
The faint sound of water running also tells me that someone is in the shower. I contemplate which of the Durand men might be showering and which one could be cooking and decide it’s most likely Bo in the shower, with all he’s left behind.
I curl myself back against my pillow, wrapped in my warm cocoon, deciding to wait for Bo to return before going to greet his dad. But once a few minutes pass, my stomach and curiosity overrule my comfort.
I throw on some sweats and a hoodie before making my way toward the kitchen, where I find Bo pouring batter into the waffle maker.
“Morning,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “I thought you were in the shower.”
Bo holds on to the counter, steadying himself. “Morning,” he says, closing the waffle maker with his tongue poking out in concentration. “I wanted to get up before Dad to avoid any sort of… questions.” He gestures to my bedroom with his tilted chin, wearing a bashful smile. “He’s not subtle, as you may have noticed.”
“Got it.”
“Bonjour!” Robert says, walking through the kitchen in an all-black ensemble, running a towel through his hair as he heads toward the living room.
“Bonjour,” I say, smiling at Bo shyly, as if we have a much more interesting secret than having spent the night cuddling.
I cut up some fruit as Bo finishes the waffles and brews a pot of coffee. We all eat breakfast together on the couch as Robert continues to berate Bo over his lack of dining table. Bo insists there’s not enough room in there between his record player and desk.
They bicker back and forth as I swallow bite after bite of delicious breakfast, only jumping in occasionally to agree with Robert, hoping to earn his favour.
Afterward, we all get ready to leave the house. Then, per his request, we drop Robert off at the local farmers’ market before Bo and I drive to the hospital for our ultrasound.
Bo holds every door open between the parking garage and the clinic. I wonder, if I pretended to be nervous, would he hold my hand too?
Not that I’dreallyhave to pretend.
“You okay?” he asks, opening the clinic’s door.
“Yeah,” I answer reflexively, blowing my chance.We walk inside and walk up to the receptionist behind a glass partition.
“Ultrasound for two please,” I say to her, sliding my paperwork through the narrow slot. She blinks at me, her blank expression saying a whole lot as she sighs through her nose. “Fair,” I mumble, pulling out my ID. “I’m here for my twenty-week scan,” I say, placing my card down.
She takes it and begins typing silently.
“Tough crowd,” Bo whispers next to my ear. “You’ll get ’em next time.” He nods sarcastically, giving me a thumbs-up.
