Page 33 of All Your Firsts Without Me

“It looks like you and Lucky have gotten used to each other.” I nod towards them.

She sighs, laying her head back against the seat. “She never leaves my side.” April runs her hand lovingly over the dog. “I talk to her like she knows what I’m saying. If anyone heard me, they would think I was crazy. Did you go back and adopt another dog?”

“No. I will, but I guess I’m waiting for the right time.”

“So, Westin, what do you do for a living?”

I take a deep breath. Okay, here it goes. A little early but maybe this is better. More natural. Nothing forced. “I’m a songwriter.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “A songwriter? How wonderful.” She sits up in the seat, her interest piqued.

I pull into my driveway. “I’ll tell you all about it over lunch.”

She claps, excited to hear more about me. And just like that, I feel like the luckiest man in the world.

“Wow, your house is gorgeous.”

She stands on the path to the front door, her gaze roaming across the ocean. She places a hand over her eyes, shielding them from the sun. “We’re kind of neighbors,” she realizes.

“Close, yeah, you’re just on the other side of the pier.”

I open the door and wave my hand for her to enter before me. She bites her lip, looking back at the pier once more before stepping inside. “Oh, my gosh, Westin.” She spins in a circle, her arms wide. “This is amazing. You must be a heck of a songwriter.”

Shoving my hands deep in my pockets, my gaze drinks her in. Having her in my space is exciting. She walks to the mantel above the fireplace, running her fingers along the awards I’ve won. She pauses and glances over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes. “You are kind of a big deal, aren’t you?”

I shrug, shyly. “Not that big of deal.”

Waving her towards the kitchen, I point to a chair. “Let’s see. What do I have that you might like?” I tap my finger over my mouth as she takes a seat. Lucky wiggles under the stool, closing her eyes to take a snooze.

“I like anything.”

“Anything?”

“Well, okay, maybe that’s not true but I’m not picky.”

“Pizza?”

She places her hand over her heart. “Awe, you know the way to a girl’s heart.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Wow, that was easy.”

Giggling, she pulls her feet under her so she can lean in close to me.

After I get everything laid out that we will need, we set to work. She seems to have a system as to how pepperonis should be placed. “You didn’t tell me you were a pizza connoisseur.”

“Yep. You can pretty much put anything on a pizza. And…” she holds up a finger, pausing to pop a pepperoni in her mouth. Once she swallows, she finishes, “It covers all the food groups.”

I laugh, stealing one of her carefully placed olives, popping it my own mouth. She shakes a finger at me as she replaces it.

“There, perfect,” she says, brushing her hands together.

After we put it in the oven, we make our way out to the couch. I have large floor to ceiling windows so I can see the view from anywhere in the room. She sits down, her eyes going back to the awards on my mantel. “So, Mr. Songwriter, what songs have you written?”

Here goes nothing. I answer her question. Hoping I don’t scare her off.

“You wrote,Alone in the Dark?” she asks, her eyes wide in disbelief.

I nod.

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