Out on a Limb

by Hannah Bonam-Young

Perhaps it’s the way his eyes search my face like he’s trying to place me. Like we’ve met before. Or maybe as if he can’t believe we haven’t.

Hesitantly, even inside the privacy of my own thoughts, I allow myself to say it. I want to have this baby. Deep down, in an I-know-it-in-my-bones type of way, it feels right. So I think it again. And again. Testing my reaction to it each time. Waiting for a hint of panic or a rush of fear. But nothing comes. Just…resolve. A tiny kindling of excitement, actually.

“Move in with me,” he says, interrupting, his eyes holding on me with a hesitant yet somehow certain stare.

“He wasn’t nice to you.” He states it like fact. Simple. Sad. True. I shake my head no. Just subtle enough that a part of me can pretend I didn’t answer him at all. Bo’s jaw works, his eyes falling briefly before he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“My dad says the moment he saw my mom, he just knew. He took one look at her and watched the rest of his life play out.”

equality. Trust me. If it was solely up to me, your number would be a lot lower. Zero. Your income is about 15 percent of the household’s total, right? The expenses of having you live here only rose by an additional six hundred and thirty dollars, which your portion is covering. Now that doesn’t seem fair, considering you’re also growing our kid. This is me compromising.”

Bo is clearly the type of guy who takes people under his wing. A natural caretaker type.

It’s so much easier to communicate insecurities when you don’t need to communicate them at all. Isn’t that all we ever want? To be seen and heard? Validated, even when we’re not able to ask for it.

“Then I’ll lead,” he says, taking my smaller hand in his and pulling me closer.

“To thank you for everything.” The way he says everything is like he really means every single thing. Tears sting my eyes instantly. “I should be thanking you,” I say. “For letting me crash here, for being so kind to me, for—” I almost say loving me before I catch myself. “For being such a good friend.” “Win, I don’t think you understand. I spent my birthday last year alone on my couch, drinking and miserable. I was so lonely. I felt like half a person. I—” He chokes up and clears his throat. “I felt hopeless.” He sniffles, and I fight the urge to pull away to look at his face. To wipe his tears, if there are any. “But then you came along.” “If things were so bad, why go to some silly Halloween party?” How did I get so lucky?

I wish I knew you then, I think to myself. I’d have found him there, in that dark period.

certain. “I’d do it all over again to be at that party,” he says. “To meet you. To get Gus.”

I damn near disintegrate, my face crumpling as I shake my head. Because how can I hear him say that and not fall in love with him at this exact moment? How can I tell myself he’s not purely good when he says things like that? “Bo…” I say, looking at our feet. “I would,” he says adamantly, nodding as if he wants me to do the same. “Wouldn’t you?”

And his desperation does something to my heart. A tiny twist, like wringing out a wet cloth. I love him so much it’s truly painful. As if every time I resist telling him how I feel when the truth boils up so close to the surface, a tiny piece of myself withers and dies.

squeeze my eyes shut. Now. Be brave. Tell him how you feel. “I—” “That’s the question I was going to ask tonight,” Bo interrupts. “Who in this world matters the most to you?” “You,” I answer simply, pleading with him to hear me. What I said and all that it means. “You,” he repeats. “It’s you for me too. With a very close second,” he says, his eyes on my belly.

I want him, his life, his lessons, his soul and its impressions to be branded under my skin.

No matter how many times I replayed the memory of our night together, I knew, deep down, it was never close to the real thing. Nothing could have prepared me for how incredible it would feel again.

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.

like wearing Bo’s clothes because he gets all worked up over it. I think it’s because it’s almost like announcing to the world that I’m his. His woman carrying his baby in his clothing.

“I know you’re not used to it, but so long as I’m around, I’ll be looking after you,” he says, voice low and gruff. “I consider it my job and my privilege from now on.

“You are my soul’s purpose, Win. To know you, to love you, to build a family with you, to spend every day taking care of you, to watch you shine and get all the good things you deserve