Page 83 of All Your Firsts Without Me

We sit quietly, allowing the words to settle on the breeze.

“And we’re getting married. I’m really fucking happy, man,” he covers his mouth, his eyes darting around.

I swat him in the arm, scolding him, but then I quickly add, “I’m really fucking happy too.”

Our laughter echoes across the cemetery.

When we quiet down, I pick up where Westin left off. “The baby is a girl,” I tell him quietly.

Westin wraps his arm around me, pulling me close.

“April and I created an album together. All the proceeds are going to go to a foundation we’re starting in your memory. I don’t know how else to repay you, David,” Westin says, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He struggles a few seconds before continuing.

“You should see the cover. The chick on the front is hot.” Something between a sob and a laugh punctuates his sentence.

When he doesn’t say anything after that, I take my turn. “We’re naming her Kathryn. Your letters said she was the first person you were going looking for up there. I hope you found her.”

Westin makes a pained sound, so I wrap my arm around his stomach and snuggle into him more. He’s been alone for so long. He has friends but no family to speak of. I don’t know if he’s ever really allowed himself time to grieve for his parents.

We sit quietly for a long time. Both of us lost in our thoughts.

I allow my worries, my hopes, my dreams to float freely. I know a lot of people are going to judge us… me in particular, when they find out I’m pregnant. But there is no judgment here amongst the dead.

My eyes catch Westin’s watch, and I realize we should probably get going.

“There’s a newbie up there,” I break the silence, sitting up. “His name is Fred Fredricks. Can you check on him for me?”

Westin laughs, “He’s an ornery one. Keep an eye on him.”

I slap my hands down on my knees. “Well, we have to get going. Kaden is on his way home, so we need to go stock up on groceries.” I lean forward, pressing a kiss to my fingers before placing them against his name. “I miss you.”

“We both miss you,” Westin says, helping me to my feet.

I glance over my shoulder as we walk away. I’d like to tell you it gets easier, but I don’t know that it does. What I do know is that having something to walk towards does help. I have a beautiful life… it’s always been there for the taking, David’s letters helped me see it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

April ~ six months later

There is nothing cuter than watching your husband play the guitar and sing to your newborn daughter. She blinks at him slowly as she chews on her tiny fist. I’m not even going to tell you how many songs he’s written for her.

Yes, we got married a few weeks before Kathryn was due. It was a small ceremony on the beach. It was important to us that we be one hundred percent committed to each other before she was born.

Our family was here all day visiting, and I’m not going to lie, I’m pooped out. I wave to him and point to the bedroom, letting him know I’m going to lie down for a bit. He gives me a big grin, nodding.

When I step into our bedroom, I find two letters lying on each of our pillows. I run, and I do mean run to the one with my name on it. I hold it to my chest, I thought there wouldn’t be any more letters but here they are, in David’s handwriting.

I pick up Westin’s and walk back out into the living room. He is setting his guitar against the fireplace. He glances up at me with a look of concern. I wave the lettersin the air. “Looks like David’s little helpers were at it again.”

After handing him the letter with his name on it, we stare at each other for a moment. “How about we read them to ourselves and then we can decide if we want to swap,” I suggest.

He makes a hmm sound, his finger over his mouth. “I’m… I’m going to take mine outside.” He pinches his nose, making a beeline for the door. Lucky hops up to join him.

Westin misses David about as much as I do. I guess he’s not as used to getting these letters as I am. Although, I haven’t had a new one in a long time.

I sit down by Kathryn, rocking her cradle softly. “This is a letter from my first husband,” I say quietly. Someday, I will tell you all about him. He was one of the good ones, just like your dad.”

Dear April,

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