more rounds before I demanded a shower and some rest. Bo gave in, under the condition that I’d sleep naked and on top of him. It was without a doubt the best sleep of my life. When we woke up this morning, the room was still dark as rain poured outside.
But I’ve never felt brighter.
Bo stirs next to me, his nose tucked against his pillow as he blinks awake, then lets his eyes flutter closed again. I watch him sleep shamelessly, noticing the delicate twitch of his eyebrows, the startled and settled breaths in between, the rising and falling of his chest. I memorise every detail of his face. His cupid’s bow tucked under a soft spray of golden facial hair, the twenty-one freckles across his forehead, cheeks, and nose. The small few on his eyelids that are my favourites.
Then, once I’ve had my fill, I sit up next to him, my back against the headboard and my blanket wrapped around my torso. I wake him with a gentle brush of my hand across his beard. He cracks one eye open, his smile sleepily searching as he looks up to find me.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” he whispers, his voice rough. He wraps one arm around my lap, holding my hip, then pulls himself over me, his head landing across my thighs. “Five more minutes,” he yawns, curling into my legs.
I’m not sure if it’s the proximity of his voice to my belly or the way my heart started beating that got the baby’s attention, but they’re awake now too. Greeting me with fluttering little kicks on my left side. I place one hand where the baby seems to be and one hand on the side of Bo’s head, using my little fingers to stroke his hair.
And I think to myself: life has never been so good as it is at this exact moment. The only thing left to do is tell him how much I love him… and I’m unprepared to wait five more minutes.
“Bo?” I say his name like I haven’t ever said it before. Like it’s foreign on my tongue with all of these new feelings and depth that it holds. “Bo… I need to tell you something.”
“You have to wait,” he says, grumbling, talking out the side of his mouth squished against my lap. “I want to say it first, but I’m too tired to do it properly right now. Later.”
I smile so wide that it tilts my head back, pointing my face up to the ceiling. “Say what first?” I ask, brushing his hair back and trailing my thumb from the top of his ear down his neck.
“Three big, important words. You know them, yes?”
“No, sorry, I’m unfamiliar. You better wake up and tell me.”
“You deserve better than a bedroom confession. There should be spectacle,” he says, smiling to himself, his eyes still shut tight. “Pizzaz,” he adds, sighing.
“I don’t need spectacle.” I just need you.
Bo groans as he sits up, his head hanging between us until he rolls his neck and gives me that classic mischievous schoolboy grin that kills me every time.
“Morning,” he says, pulling his blanket farther up his lap to cover his bottom half.
“Oh, good morning,” I whisper, leaning forward to capture his lips in a single lazy kiss. “Something wake you?”
“Hmm,” he moans, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm. “I didn’t think I’d feel hungover. I felt sober when I got to bed.”
“Ah, but love, you’re thirty now.”
He tilts his head slowly, his hair flopping to one side. “I like that,” he says, smiling.
“What?”
“My dream girl is in bed with me, calling me love.”
“Dream girl, huh?” I say, pulling the blanket farther up my chest when I notice his eyes dip lower. I need him to focus.
“How are you so awake?” he asks, widening his eyes and blinking slowly. “I feel like I swallowed rocks.”
“I’m actually sober, remember? The whole baby thing?” I tease, rubbing my hand from his shoulder to his neck, tilting his drooping head back up to look at me. “Wake up.” I need him to tell me how he feels. Because I truly feel like I’m about to burst. “If you’re not going to say it first, I will.”
He chuckles, letting his head fall between us again. “You know, you’ve got a really interesting way of keeping me on my toes. I’ve been fighting every impulse around you because you said we had to be nothing more than friends. Then, after one night together, you want all the cards on the table. Do you know how hard it’s been to not tell you every day? Maybe I should make you wait,” he says, narrowing his eyes at me playfully.
He’s got a point. I’ve led the way this entire time. My boundaries and my rules. He’s kindly and respectfully followed me every step of the way. That’s probably one of the many reasons I’m so in love with him. And I could let him torture me a little—since I’ve been unknowingly keeping him on ice all this time.
But he’s a better person than I am.
I reach across and take Bo’s hand in mine, wrapping my palm around his fingers and squeezing. His smile is still hazy, but his eyes are clearer now. I wait for a small look of permission, a little softened corner of his eye that says go ahead…
“I love you,” I say, squeezing his fingers again. “I’m fully, madly, deeply, and unquestionably in love with you.”
Bo’s shoulders fall on a deep breath in, like he’s taking my words inward. His face contented and patient and so, so happy.
“I’ve been so scared of letting myself feel that way again. I have questioned my judgement, my intentions, and my reasoning since we met, but all along, you’ve been showing me that I can rely on you with little acts every day. And those small doses of kindness and generosity and support and gentleness have chipped away at the hard wall I built around my heart. You never asked for more. You never rushed me. You…”
I swallow, clearing my throat from the emotions clogging it as best I can. “You’ve seen me. Understood me like I’ve never been understood. And I see you now too. I see how truly lovely you are. More importantly, I believe it. With everything inside me, I believe you’re going to be gentle with my heart.”
Bo blinks rapidly, his eyes fluttering as he looks down between us and pulls my hand to his mouth before kissing each knuckle. He leans against my palm, so I cradle his face, and I feel his jaw trembling. “I love you, Win. I love you so much it makes me feel like I’ve hated everything else in my life up until now. Nothing compares to what I feel for you. Not even close.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to his.
“Thank you,” he replies.
I want to scream. I want to dance. I want to stay in his arms all day, all year. Mostly, I want to kiss every inch of his body and show him how much I love him over and over again.
“Kiss me,” I say.
His sweet, post-confessional kiss is met with my heated, voracious hunger. He laughs against my mouth, breathless, as I begin trailing kisses down the column of his throat.
“Already, honey?”
“Get used to it, honey.”
Bo pulls the blankets away from my chest and off his lap before tugging me toward him with such force I giggle on impact.
“All right,” he says, lifting me with two strong hands on my hips and dropping me onto his lap. “Let’s see how many times we can do this before breakfast.”
Bo slides his arms under my thighs, lifting me up as he links his hands behind my back, supporting my weight.
“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” I say teasingly as he lines himself up at my entrance, my head rolling back with anticipation.
“You’ll be chanting it soon if I do this right.”
I dart across the hall to the bathroom, covered in only a towel, while Bo goes to check if his father is awake yet. If he is, Bo will also have to do some explaining. And apologising, perhaps. Old house, thin walls, and whatever else.
Either way, not my conversation to have. But I do text Sarah an update about our night and morning together before getting into the steam-filled shower. I watch with glee as my phone buzzes and lights up so many times on the bathroom counter that it slips and falls into the empty sink.
Once finished, I dry my hair, rub lotion on my slowly growing belly, brush my teeth, and tiptoe back across the hall. Once there, I find a freshly brewed cup of coffee from Bo on my dresser. He even made the bed. I don’t think I’ve ever made my bed, but I appreciate the sentiment.
I dress in thick, black leggings, my favourite emerald green Westcliff sweatshirt, and a pair of woolly socks. I tie my hair up in a messy bun and make my way toward the scent of something delicious from down the hall, coffee in hand.
“Morning,” I say, slipping into the kitchen.
“Just me,” Bo says, flipping a pancake on the stove. “Dad really must have had too much to drink.”
“Should we wake him? When is his flight?”
“I’m dropping him off at nine. It’s an overnight. Let’s let him sleep.”
“Have you talked to him about coming to visit once the baby’s born?” I ask, filling a glass with ice from the fridge.
“No. Actually, I was thinking… Maybe we could go there. A little family vacation… you ever been to Paris?”
I beam, shaking my head. Family. That’s exactly what we are. “I’ve always wanted to, but no. Maybe we could do a little world tour? Stop by my mom’s too?”
“She’s still not sure about coming up in August?”
“No… something about having to pay an entrance fee to this new business she’s doing—she swears she’s going to earn it back soon but,” I say, shrugging, “who knows?”
“Does your mom know… about…” Bo gestures between the two of us with the spatula.
I smirk into my coffee, taking a long sip. “She knew before you did, actually. I sort of just lied from the start when I didn’t clarify in what nature we were living together. But now, I guess I can call it manifesting,” I say, going up onto the tips of my toes to kiss his cheek.
Bo flips a pancake, nodding to himself. “So, I’ve been thinking…”
Sarcastically, I look between the bathroom down the hall and him. “In the last ten minutes? Did I leave you alone for too long?”
“I’d like you to quit the café.”
“Bo.” I roll my eyes with affection. “I like being home too, but I still have to save money for the camp and pay my fair share around here.” I drape my hand around his neck, rubbing his shoulder. I love that I can just touch him now. I love that it feels like maybe I always could have. “And I’d get you fired…” I say in a low hum. “Those sweaters you wear for work and your glasses? They do it for me.”
Bo laughs, his throat working as he lifts a pancake from the pan to an already full plate, then turns off the burner. “You’d still be working. Just not at the café.”
“I also consider sex work to be an honest living, but gorgeous, that’s not happening.”
Bo leans on the counter, his hand flat on top of it. “I got an email from James Burrough—the investor—this morning. Well, last night. But I was busy then.” He winks. “I saw it this morning.”
I place my mug on the counter, nearly chipping the thing with the speed I do it. “And…” I wave him on with both hands.
“And he wants to invest. He’s offering 78 percent of what we need.”
I bring both hands to my face, covering my gasp. “That’s amazing!” I throw my arms around Bo’s shoulders and hug him. He stays unmoving, other than bending to tuck his chin into my neck. “But wait. That still means I—”
“I want to invest the rest, Win. But…” he says, tapping his fingers on the countertop. “I want to know my investment won’t be burning themselves out running between two jobs. You’ve got four more months before the baby shows up, and I think if you were able to focus on the camp, you could make some serious progress.”
“Bo, that’s…” I try to do the calculations in my head and come up empty. “That is…”
“One hundred, thirty-eight thousand and six hundred dollars.”
“You don’t have that!” I exclaim, my mouth open.
“No?” He pouts his lips. “Huh… could have sworn I did.”
“Bo…” I whisper, side-eyeing him. “Are you rich?”
“I do well.”
“I do well sounds like something a rich person would say. I know you have a really great job, but that is some serious money.”
“I’ve been lucky with some investments. Adamir approached me for some advice when he finished school, and I ended up partnering with him on an app he built. It sold over a year ago for just under three million.”
“And when you say partnered, you mean…?”
“I got about 30 percent of that.”
I grip my forehead, laughing without sound. “There is so much math going on this morning.”
Bo drops his hand from the counter and wraps it around my back, tugging me to him. “There have been a lot of things I wanted to do and say these last few months, and I’ve been waiting not so patiently. This is one of those things. Now that you trust me,” he tilts my chin up toward him when I look down between us, “I want you to let me help, okay?” He nods, his eyes locked on mine, as if he’s trying to get me to do the same. “It’s your turn now, Win.”
“My turn?” I ask, my voice distant.
“Everything you poured into your relationship with that…” Bo’s eyes flare, and he takes a breath, steadying himself. “I don’t know everything yet—and I’d really like to talk about it more when you’re ready—but when you said you supported that asshole through school just to get nothing in return, it destroyed me. So yeah, it’s your turn now, Win. To get back that time. To get to where you want to be. Where you deserve to be. And not just because you deserve it. But also because kids like Henry do. Kids like us who need this camp. So, please, let me be a part of it.”
“It’s not up to you to fix Jack’s mistakes…”
“No,” Bo says, leaning down to kiss me just once, brushing his nose against mine. “But it is my job to love you the way you deserve to be loved from now on.” He presses his forehead against mine, breathing out slowly. “Let me do that, honey.”
“Okay,” I whisper, breathing him in. Bo straightens, his face still pointed toward me. “You promise you’re not just doing this because we’ve finally had sex?” I say, wincing.
Bo laughs, playing with the hair over my shoulder, twiddling it mindlessly. “As good as the sex is, no. It’s so much more than that.”
“So… just like that? I quit my job?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his middle and placing my chin on his chest, looking up at him adoringly. “You really did want a kept woman. I was right.”
“The sooner you quit, the sooner you can focus your attention on the camp,” Bo says. “Plus, we’re not going to be just us for much longer. As excited as I am to have August, I’d like some more one-on-one time before then.”
“Hmm. And sleep,” I agree.
“That too.”
“So… do we email James? Tell him the plan?”
“Well, we’re going to have to do a lot more math, because none of those plans we made matter anymore. But then, yes.”
“I love when you talk dirty to me,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows.
“First, breakfast.” Bo twists within my hold and hands me a plate with a sly wink. “I’ve gotta keep you fed,” he says, brushing his nose across my temple. “For later.”
I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy later very much. “Yes, for all that math.”
“Exactly.”
