Page 56 of All Your Firsts Without Me

His house smells good. I don’t know what he has in the oven, but it smells divine. He takes me by the hand and leads me into his bedroom. “I thought we could, um, sleep together, but if this doesn’t work for you, I do have a guest room.”

My eyes slide over the room. It’s done in dark blues and warm browns. It’s cozy. I like it. “This is fine.” I walk over and sit on the bed. It’s soft. So soft.

He sets my bag on a chair. “There is an attached bathroom.” He points to a closed door on the other side of the room.

I lie down, gazing over my head. There are French doors running along the wall. I sit up and turn to look out. “What a beautiful view,” I tell him, standing and going over to get a better look.

Pushing the curtains back a little, I get a glimpse at what he wakes up to each morning.

“Are you feeling better about this?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe. He’s giving me space to explore his room without hovering over me.

“Yeah, I am.” My eyes follow a seagull hopping around the beach. “Did he leave letters for you?”

“No,” he says simply.

“But you knew about the ones he wrote to me?”

He sighs. “I did. He wrote them while we sat at the bar together, but he never shared them with me,” he adds quickly.

I walk over to my bag, unzipping it. “His messages are… well, they’re priceless. They’ve helped me so much. But today when I went to read the one for this moment,” I point to the bed, unable to say the words, “well, I found it wasn’t for me. It’s addressed to you.”

He takes it from me, his brows pulled together in confusion. “There was a letter for this?” he asks.

Laughing, I go back to the bed and sit down. “Yep.”

He sits down next to me, reading the envelope.Your first time with someone else.Westin opens it and pulls out the second envelope, the one with his name on it.

“He was pretty sure about us, wasn’t he?” Westin says, laughing.

“Yeah, he always thought he was right. He usually was,” I add with a smirk.

“We could read it together,” he suggests.

“No. It’s for you. I’ll go set the table while you read.”

He leans over and kisses my forehead.

I leave him with my husband’s words. If I said I wasn’t curious about what was written, I would be lying. But I trust David. And now that I think about it, I trust Westin too.

I take a peek at the casserole cooking in the oven, it looks amazing.

Lucky dances around my feet. I give her one of the treats Westin bought for her. She takes it and goes right back to her spot by the windows, content.

The table is set, food ready, candles lit, and still no sign of Westin. I glance down the hall, wondering if I should go find him? I’m starting to get nervous about what that letter said.

I walk over to the mantel and run my fingers over his awards. Pride blooms in my chest. My man is so talented.

My man.

My boyfriend.

My soon to be lover.

Westin clears his throat behind me. “The table looks great,” he says not meeting my eyes.

“I put the casserole on warm. I wasn’t sure when you would be out.”

He heads to the kitchen, grabbing the potholders off the counter. He busies himself taking it out.

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