Out On a Limb

Stunned, I look around Sarah’s backyard.

“Win!” Sarah says, bounding over in her bright pink dress. “Surprise!”

I don’t respond. Can’t respond just yet. Bo’s got his hand on the small of my back, but other than that, I feel completely untethered to the earth as I take in the view. It’s so beautiful.

There’s one long table for no more than twenty people that’s covered with wildflowers and light green tablecloths. There’s a clothing line of linen baby onesies and a pale green balloon arch over a table of food and drinks. A mostly empty table with one wrapped gift placed on top.

“Sarah, I—”

“Before you say anything, you should know I wanted to go way bigger than this and dialled it back. So if you say it’s too much, I will pounce on you.”

“I love it,” I say, admiring my best friend with tear-filled eyes. “I was going to say that I love it. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

“Really?” Her smile is proud, if a little uncertain. “That easy?”

I nod, smiling wide. “It’s beautiful, Sar,” I say, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you,” I whisper over her shoulder.

“It wasn’t just me, you know,” Sarah says before we step away. She looks at Bo with one raised brow, then back to me.

I play along, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. “Did you know about this?” I ask, trying not to break a smile.

“Guilty,” Bo says, raising his hands up in the air, looking sheepishly at Sarah.

“He did the party favours,” Sarah says, picking one up and handing it to me.

Fred’s Flowers, Bo’s handwriting reads on a small white box. I turn it over in my hand. “You made these?” I ask him, actually surprised.

He shrugs, smiling coyly. “I wanted a pirate theme, but Sarah said no.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to explain that particular inside joke over and over,” she says, smirking. “Plus, I gave him one pirate thing,” Sarah says, pointing toward the gift table with letter blocks that spell out “ahoy there, baby.”

“It’s amazing.” I say, smiling between them. “Seriously, it is exactly what I would have chosen. Thank you.”

“We make a good team,” Sarah says, pushing Bo’s shoulder.

“It’s because I do as I’m told,” Bo whispers into my ear.

“Yeah, you’re a very good boy,” I whisper back, patting his cheek.

The afternoon passed in a sweet, bustling, tender blur.

The guests arrived slowly a little after twelve. My mother took charge of greeting them and guiding them toward the backyard, proudly introducing herself as Grandma June time and time again. All of Bo’s friends, who I hope have also become mine, mingled nicely with a few friends of mine from Westcliff and my ex-coworkers from the café that Sarah and Bo managed to track down. Henry and his parents, Tonya and James, came too—and Henry got a big kick out of being the only kid at the party. Sarah made beautiful cupcakes, each decorated to look like a different flower. And Caleb did what Caleb does best, helping wherever needed most. Which was conveniently near the food table, alongside Bo, most of the afternoon.

I managed to only blush half a dozen times while Bo and I opened gifts. And it was truly, genuinely lovely. To feel all the love for a baby they’ve yet to meet. Who, as Bo said during his speech, was such a welcome and needed surprise.

As the afternoon sun faded to a chilly spring evening, the few of us left standing took the party inside, not wanting the day to end. We called Bo’s dad to show him how much he was missed and introduce him to my mom. My mother hogged the phone for a while as she sat cosied up on the couch with Sarah. Naturally, she made one too many jokes about them both being hot, single grandparents. Or GILFs, as she called them, much to Sarah’s amusement.

Eventually, Bo and I said our goodbyes, packed up our car with an absolutely absurd number of presents, and drove home alone—my mother insisting she’d rather stay at Sarah’s. I, admittedly, was relieved. I’m so glad my mom is here, but I’m learning that she and I do best in little doses.

“Did you have a good time?” Bo asks, his hand on my thigh as we turn onto our street.

“I really, really did,’ I say, turning to smile at him. “Did you?”

“Yeah,” he says, pulling the car into the driveway. “I did.”

“I have a present for you,” I say proudly. “I thought it would blow my cover if I brought it with us, but I wanted you to have something too.”

“I actually have something for you too,” Bo says, turning off the car.

“I bet mine is better,” I tease, taking off my seatbelt.

Bo smirks, shaking his head as he gets out of the car and walks over to my door, helping me out. We walk hand in hand up the driveway and into the house.

Bo watches me, soft eyes but serious smile, as I take off my shoes and drop onto the couch.

“What?” I ask, my eyes narrowing on him.

“You,” he says, admiring me thoughtfully. “Will it ever stop?” he asks slowly.

“What?” I say, placing my hands on my belly. “Growing?” I laugh, falling backward. “I don’t see how I could get any bigger.”

“No,” he says, stopping next to the couch. He lifts my feet, sits down, then drops them onto his lap. “Not that.”

“Then what?” I ask.

“Wanting you this much.”

I raise a brow. “Do you want it to stop?”

He shakes his head before pressing his ear to my belly. I bring one hand up and brush over his hair lovingly. “Then I don’t think it will.”

“It’s tiring,” he says, lips squished against my bump.

“Ah, well, so sorry,” I laugh out.

“No, I don’t mean it like that. I mean that it feels like my heart is on the outside of my body,” he says, his voice low. “And I miss you so much, even when you’re just a few feet away. I think about you every second of the day and struggle to think of much else. I meant what I said that first night. You are maddening.”

I run my fingers through his hair, letting it fall against the back of my knuckles. “I know. I feel it too. But it’s also kind of wonderful, right?”

He sits up after pressing a kiss to my belly, then reaches under the coffee table for a box. It’s the size of a shoebox but wooden with a dark grain and golden clasp.

“What’s this?” I ask, sitting up eagerly, twisting to place my feet on the floor.

“It’s… well, I suppose, it’s us,” he says, handing it to me. “So far.”

I hold it in my lap, tracing the wood with my eyes and palm.

“When you first told me about the baby, I started thinking a lot more about my mom. Though I didn’t have much in terms of memories, my dad had all these… remnants of her. He kept everything. So every time I needed a piece of my mom, I knew I could go to him, and he’d show me something new.” Bo turns, placing his knee on the couch to face me. “He had this box under his bed filled with photos, jewellery. Things as insignificant as buttons that had fallen off her coat or pennies she’d picked up off the street. All of Mom’s notebooks filled with music she’d written…journals, notes, letters…” Bo says, looking toward the dining room over my shoulder.

I reach out my right hand, putting it on his knee and squeezing as best I can.

Bo smiles wistfully, taking a deep inhale, his eyes turning back toward me. “And through those things, through those little pieces of her, I learned that her story wasn’t just how it ended. I learned about her life. I saw all those scraps of her Dad kept and realised how deeply they had loved each other.” He swallows, licking his lips. “I wanted our baby to have that too. Even if we weren’t in love. Even if the baby was unexpected… I wanted them to have something they could hold on to. Tangible memories. Something that meant if one of us…” he says, his chin folding down and his voice wobbling. “If I got sick again and…”

I put my hand on his cheek, brushing gently along the line of his beard with my thumb. “You’re not going anywhere,” I say adamantly, nodding my head so he does the same.

He smiles, tilting his lips toward my hand. “I know. I’m not allowed.”

“Damn right,” I whisper, my voice wavering.

“Anyway, I wanted them to have this,” Bo says, pointing to the fastener of the box. “But now, I think I want you to see it too. Because… I always wondered if my mom knew Dad’d kept these things. That he’d been so madly in love with her, that she was memorialized before she was even gone.”

I unhook the latch and open the box, revealing the treasure trove of items inside.

“It’s mostly just junk…” Bo says, rubbing the back of his neck as I pull out a receipt and read it over.

“From… from the café on Cosgrove?” I ask.

“The day you told me about them.”

I reach in, pulling out a mason jar of stones and turquoise sea glass.

“From our walks to the beach,” Bo says.

I laugh, tears springing free as I pull out the photo of us from that first ultrasound—my dazed, confused smile in hilarious contrast next to Bo’s bright enthusiasm in the lobby of the medical building. Underneath it is a photo of me, one that I didn’t know he’d taken. I’m gardening in the backyard, dirt across my face and tummy sticking out from under my T-shirt. It had to have been less than a week ago.

“And this?” I say, laughing as I hold up a small, rectangular piece of plastic.

“I may have taken some Catan pieces… from that first game night,” Bo says, shrugging one shoulder. “Don’t tell Sarah.”

I pull out the father-to-be book Sarah gave him, now annotated with notes in the margins and flagged pages with bright pink tabs. I flick through it, realising that he’s left notes to the baby amongst the pages. Telling them how excited he is for every stage. How much he can’t wait to meet them. Your mom is doing such a good job at growing you, I read. She’s going to be an incredible mom.

Every little item I pull out next fills my heart more and more. The pack of twenty questions, with short forms of our answers written on the back of each card. His copies of the ultrasound photos, scrap pieces of paper, more candid photos of me—my bump going from unnoticeable to overflowing.

“This is a beautiful gift, Bo,” I say, wiping my tears. I move the box to the couch beside me and wrap my arms around him. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, crying. “I only made you socks.”

“I love socks.”

“I love you,” I say.

“There’s one more thing that I took out.”

“Hmm?” I ask, leaning back as I wipe my tears away.

“Remember on the first day, I told you I hid something so that you wouldn’t find it while snooping?” He reaches into the side of the couch. “I stashed it here earlier, for the record. This isn’t where I hid it.”

“So mysterious…” I say, my smile faltering into confusion as he pulls out… oh.

“This I can’t explain,” he says, holding out the red bandanna I lost on Halloween. “This I kept before I knew anything about the baby. Before I knew how much I was going to love you. Because, clearly, some part of me already did.”

I cover my mouth, looking down at his hand, clasped tightly around the bandanna as my brain catches up with my soaring heart.

“I think I knew that I needed a piece of you to hold on to. I was walking out of that room and I saw this on the chair next to the door and… I don’t know. I just needed to take a part of that night with me.”

“But… but you left.”

“You said you wanted casual, Win.”

“You really need to stop listening to me,” I say, tears springing free again.

“Noted,” Bo says, smirking. He takes a long breath, steadier this time, as he searches my eyes. “Every day for weeks afterward, I thought about you. I thought about your smile. Your laugh. Your eyes… your mouth. I came close to asking Caleb for your number, but I was scared. I was scared after everything with Cora, with my cancer… with all of it, that I wasn’t enough. That I wouldn’t be enough to get you from casual to more.”

I shake my head, refusing to accept that he ever felt that way, wishing I’d known, and place my hand in his, squeezing tightly.

“Then, on one random day in December, you texted me. I felt like I’d won the lottery.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes, as Bo brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my wrist.

“Ever since then, I’ve fallen deeper and deeper in love with you. Your heart, your kindness, your strength, your joy, your selflessness.” He reaches around me, dropping the bandanna back into the box along with the rest of our beautiful, if unconventional story.

“Bo, I…”

He turns, reaching into the couch again, smiling mischievously. “One more thing…”

“I’m searching the couch from now on,” I say, wiping a tear off my cheek. “You’ll have to find a new hiding spot.”

He turns back around, his palm covering something he’s placed in his lap. Something, I suspect, that’s shiny and in a smaller box than the one sitting next to me. I put a hand on my stomach involuntarily, feeling the baby kick with the quickened rhythm of my heart.

“Bo,” I choke out.

“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 out of this life.” Bo ducks his head and reveals the small leather box in his hands, opening it to show me the most stunning, simple gold band.

“Yes,” I say involuntarily, looking up to him. “Yes,” I repeat.

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “Can I ask first?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry.” I wave him on, smiling as tears roll over the corners of my upturned lips.

“Winnifred June McNulty, love of my life and mother of my child, will you please marry me?”

“I will,” I say, throwing myself at him. “I will, and I will be proposing back to you.”

“It’s only fair,” Bo says, his lips trembling against my own.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, kissing him sloppily as he attempts to slip the ring on my finger. “But it’s far too small, honey. I’m very pregnant.”

“We’ll get it resized when we put a stone on it,” he says, holding it out to me.

I slide the ring onto the ring finger on my right hand, which it’s far too big for.

“It was my mom’s,” Bo says, bringing my right hand between us, twiddling it with his thumb. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Absolutely,” I say, punctuated by a kiss. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

For the rest of the night, I wear the ring on my smaller thumb, refusing to take it off. We eat leftover food from the baby shower in our pyjamas and dance to Frank Sinatra in the dining room afterward, my belly poking out between us.

All evening I look around the house, look at my fiancé, look at my belly, smiling with so much gratitude it’s quite nearly painful. Thinking that I cannot wait for whatever comes next. How capable I feel to face it all with Bo at my side.

August Durand was born at 11:56pm on July thirty-first, only four minutes shy of her namesake. Her mother decided on the middle name Sarah, and her father decided that he’d never witnessed anything as formidable as his wife-to-be during labour. It was a short but intense delivery—having barely made it to the hospital in time—but they held hands through it all and welcomed their daughter with tears streaking down their smile-risen cheeks. As a matter of fact, the new parents cried far more than little August as the nurses placed her across her mother’s chest for the very first time. They lay side by side, curled around one another inside the narrow hospital bed, and looked down at their daughter with awe—completely enraptured by every perfect piece of her. Her cute, if a little purple, feet. Her tiny, adorable hands that they couldn’t stop reaching for. Her bald head and dark eyes, leaving them guessing at who she’ll most resemble. They speculated aloud to one another in those first few moments that no baby had been or will ever be as wise as August. They watched her as she seemingly took in her surroundings, her eyes opened wide and surprisingly aware as she lifted her head with muscles that shocked even the nurses. She’s smart like her father, her mother said quietly. She’s strong like her mother, her father said loudly to anyone who would listen. We love you, they whispered to her over and over and over again. Thank you, her father added, kissing her mother. I did it, her mother whispered, kissing him back.