Page 149 of Westin

“Do you want any groomsmen?” I ask as I clear away the plates.

“Sovereign will be the best man and walk you up. Deacon will stand up with me.”

I frown. It’s a little strange he picked Deacon. It’s my understanding they’re on good terms when it comes to business but not close friends.

“Will Keira stand up with you?” he asks.

It’s a touchy subject. Other than Keira and Maddie, I don’t have any friends. I’ve started making casual conversation with some of the women who live in the employee housing, but they’re all too busy for more than that.

I nod. “She said she’d like to.”

“Good,” he says.

I start boiling water for coffee. It’s part of our ritual on Wednesdays. He sits at the table, and we talk about our week. At the end, he reviews where we are with each other, and we talk about what needs improvement. But first, I make coffee the way he likes it: fresh ground, patted into a pour over filter, set in the glass funnel.

Hot water swirls. Foam rises to the surface. I fill his thick, stoneware cup and place it on the table before him. For a second, I see his hands just as they were that first day: scarred from wire, big, capable.

“Good girl,” he says. “Go undress and come sit on my lap.”

He doesn’t have to give specific instructions anymore. I go upstairs, wash quickly, and put on his favorite slip. Then, I come back downstairs and balance on his knee, enjoying the feel on his hand on my waist.

“I want to talk about something first,” he said.

There’s a sober note to his voice. I nod.

“My mother is still alive; she lives in town,” he says. “I’d like her at the wedding.”

My brows rise. “I had no idea.”

“I saw her a while back, told her you exist,” he says. “But I’ve been putting off bringing you to meet her for a couple of reasons.”

I wonder if I did something wrong, but when I look into his eyes, I know it’s something else. He’s a million miles away.

“My father was a lot older than my mother,” he says, voice gruff. “He wasn’t a violent man. He loved her, but he got her pregnantwhen she was too young and…maybe her life could have been different. I worry sometimes that…I’m too much like him.”

My stomach sinks.

“How old was he?” I whisper.

“When they married? Early fifties.”

It’s obvious that Westin and I are not the same as his parents, but he won’t even look at me. I can tell it’s taking everything he has to be this vulnerable. I can’t dismiss his feelings. Gently, I take his hands in mine.

“We’re different. I chose you, Westin.”

“My father wasn’t abusive,” he says. “I idolized him. I thought he was everything a man should be. When I was old enough to know better, the damage was already done.”

I think his voice cracks, but maybe that’s just the sound of my heart breaking for him.

“I thought if I gave you a contract, it would make it better. That way, I can see your consent written out.” His voice is flat, like he’s had some time to think this through. “It felt more real. I can take it out, look at it.”

I turn on his knee and lift his head, his beard prickly beneath my fingers.

“I love you, Westin,” I whisper.

His grip intensifies. “I’ll give you everything, darling,” he says. “Anything you want.”

I believe him; I’m just wondering how scorched the earth will be in his wake. He doesn’t give me time to overthink. He turns me so I’m straddling him and brushes a flyaway curl back. His forehead presses to mine, his eyes close.

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