All Your Firsts Without Me, page 10
“Yeah, but it was supposed to be at the White Glass, six months from…” I don’t finish. She gets the gist.
“That explains the rest of the letters,” she whispers, sitting up, edging off the seat.
The oven dings, letting us know our lunch has finished cooking. She covers her mouth, bolting off the couch. “Did he tell you I liked pizza?” she asks, taking a step back.
“No.” I rise slowly from the couch holding my hands up, not wanting to spook her. “We rarely talked about you after that first day. I swear.”
“But yet…” she turns away from me. “I can’t do this, Westin.”
“You don’t have to do anything. We are just two friends having lunch. April, I don’t expect anything from you.”
“Please take me back to my car.” She walks briskly towards Lucky. “Come here, girl. It’s time to go.” The dog’s ears go back, unsure of April’s sudden change in mood.
I rush around her to pull the pizza out of the oven. “April, please, let’s eat and talk. Everything is okay. You don’t need to leave.”
“He set me up,” she screams, startling Lucky. The dog runs away from her, darting into my bedroom. She stares after her. She shakes her head back and forth. “You know what? Keep the dog. Keep your songs. Keep your pizza. I’m… I’m done.”
And she’s off, I follow as she runs down to the beach, but I can’t keep up with her. I watch helplessly as she runs towards the pier. Well, that went about as good as I thought it would. Dammit, David, now what do I do? Why didn’t you write me any letters?
I go back inside, calling for Lucky. She doesn’t come out. I find her shaking under my bed. I lie on the floor and pull my phone out of my pocket, calling Giles.
When he picks up, I tell him what happened.
“What?” he bellows. “You were supposed to wait. It’s too soon, Westin.”
“I know. I know. I didn’t force it, we just kept bumping into each other. It seemed so natural. So inevitable.”
He sighs loudly. “I’ll find her.”
“I’ll wait here.”
“Now you’ll wait?” he growls angrily.
Ouch. I hang up, knowing just how much I fucked up.
I should have waited. But… it was inevitable. Wasn’t it?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
April
My mind races as I run through the sand, my legs starting to feel like lead. I’m so angry at David. I told him there would be no one after him. I’m so enraged I even flip the pier off as I pass by. It was one of his favorite places.
I’m panting by the time I make it home. I rush inside, leaving the door wide open. My fingers riffle through the remaining letters.
The first time you’re angry at me.
Angry is an understatement.
I take the letter and head out to the beach, falling down in the sand. I tear open the letter, trying to steady my hands and my heart.
Dearest April,
If you’re reading this, I’m assuming you’ve met Westin.
I’m just about to rip the letter in half when I catch the next sentence.
Don’t rip this up. Hear me out. First of all, this was my idea, not his. He came to me only looking to meet his muse. He didn’t have any expectations other than meeting the woman who inspired his creativity and motivated his internal strength.
You. You saved this young man. And he, by writing that song, mended your heart.
I’ve thought long and hard about this, April. I believe you and I were always meant to be. I was meant to teach you about love, about relationships. You needed me. I needed you. Each for different reasons. I gave you things he never could. But it would be selfish of me to give you those things and then keep you all to myself.
I’ve shown you how you deserve to be loved. You’re worthy of love. I know I’ve made you say it a thousand times but say it again. Scream it to the heavens. Go on, I want to hear you. You. Are. Worthy.
I roll my eyes, refusing to give in to his demand.
Damn it, April. Do this for me.
“No,” I say aloud.
April, he’s a good man.
“No.”
You can deny it all you want. But it will happen, with or without a push from me. You’ll see. I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t want to. I’m just asking you to let your guard down, quit thinking about me and see what happens.
Someday you will understand why I did this.
It’s inevitable.
If I were there, now would be the moment you give in. You never could resist my puppy dog eyes.
Fuck!
Love forever and a day,
David
P.S. You’re sexy as hell when you’re mad.
I crumple up the letter in my fist, jumping to my feet and tossing it in the water.
How could he ask this of me? It’s impossible.
“April,” a voice calls from the house.
I stand on my tiptoes, catching a glimpse of Giles’s head. My eyes narrow as I storm up the path. If he’s in on this, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.
When he spots me, he rubs his chest, relieved.
“Did you know about this?” I accuse, not giving him a chance to respond. “Who does he think he is?”
Giles, snorts. “You got me, girl. I told him this was a bad idea.”
I plop down in one of the patio chairs, pulling my legs up and hugging them.
“Are you okay?” he asks, joining me.
“No. Like, just, no. Whose husband does this? Setting me up with someone from beyond the grave. Who?” I rest my chin on my knees.
“The most selfless man who ever lived.”
“He was,” I whisper, my anger instantly deflated by his words.
“I’m not here to tell you to give Westin a chance. I’m here for you. What do you need?”
“My husband.”
He shakes his head sadly. “If I could give you that, I would.”
“I know.” I let my head fall back, watching the clouds float by. “I like Westin. I do. I just… I don’t know about opening myself up to something more. I was just having fun making a new friend. That is something I’ve never done, you know?”
Giles rubs his hand across his jaw. “So, you guys really did meet accidently?”
“Yeah, the first time was at the humane society. The two of us saw the same segment on the news about a little dog with only three legs. We both wanted her.” I chuckle lightly. “And then we met again today at a nursing home I’d decided to volunteer at. He was there volunteering too. He wasn’t being creepy or forward or anything like that. It was accidental.”
Or was it inevitable?
“Seems you have a lot in common.”
“I’m still angry.”
“And that’s okay. You want to go hit some balls around at the course?”
I laugh. He and David were golfing buddies. Not something I ever wanted to try. Until today.
“Will I be a bad wife if I pretend they are his nuts?”
Giles throws his head back, laughing. Smiling. Because of me. I see why David liked making people laugh. It’s fun.
“Let’s go,” he stands, nodding towards his car.
“Yeah. Let’s do this.”
After several hours of hitting balls as hard as I could, I finally started to feel better. Maybe it was the sun, or Giles, or the beers that he insisted were a mandatory part of the game. Whatever it was, I feel better. My head is clearer.
He drops me off at my car, still parked outside the nursing home. We make a date for my next golf lesson before he pulls away. When I get home, I find Westin and Lucky sitting down by the water. Both watching the waves roll in.
I head inside, leaving the door open. The smell of pizza wafting towards the beach brings the two of them up to the house. Lucky runs in, wagging her tail. I reach down and scratch behind her ears. “Hey, girl, sorry I scared you.” She accepts my apology with a lick across the cheek.
Westin hovers outside the door. I straighten, letting Lucky go to her food bowl. “I made a pizza,” I tell him, while staring at his feet. He takes a step inside making me suck in a quick breath. Slowly, I let me gaze travel up his body. He’s so tall. His hair is messed up and his eyes are red rimmed.
“I’m so sorry, April,” he says, stepping further into the living room.
I quickly walk around him to close the door. “It’s fine,” I say, pressing my hand over the cool wood, catching the first bit of the sun dipping into the ocean from the window.
“It’s not. None of this is fine,” he says quietly, leaning towards me, his hand landing at the small of my back.
Neither of us move. His hand is so warm. I close my eyes to avoid seeing the sun make its final goodbye for the day. After a few minutes, he removes his touch, and I notice the loss immediately. I’ve missed being touched. I went most of my life without it. In fact, I was afraid of any sort of affection until David. He helped me get past the fear and now I feel like an addict needing a fix.
“It’s not fine. I hurt you and that’s definitely not fine.”
“Don’t.” I push off of the door, turning to face him. “It really is fine. David is… was,” I take a deep breath before continuing, “He was my protector. He always did what he thought was best for me. Even if I don’t understand this right now, I’m sure he had his reasons. You are not to blame. I should have expected it.”
Westin shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He scratches his head. “He hadn’t planned this until he met me, so I’m partly to blame. I wanted to meet you so bad I was willing to do anything.” He shakes his head, falling heavily onto the couch. “I sound like a complete fucking stalker. Jesus, what must you think of me?” He runs his hand over his eyes.
“I think you look like a man who’s been struggling to keep a secret from a new friend.” I lean my back against the door. “Secrets out, so…”
His eyes dart up, finding mine, he sits up taller on the couch. “You… you still want to be friends?”
I bite my bottom lip, thinking about it. “I can’t offer you more than a shared pizza for now,” I answer honestly. “I’m going to need some time to think about this.”
He runs his fingers through his hair, pulling himself together. “I am pretty hungry.” His grin rights the world a tiny little bit.
I wave him out to the kitchen, letting him sit in Kaden’s spot while I take the spot beside him, what used to be our spot. Sadness settles deep in bones as I realize that everything is now a “used to be” between David and me.
“He really didn’t tell me about the pizza.” He puts a piece on my plate before helping himself to a slice. “He didn’t tell me anything. I don’t have an advantage if that’s what you think.”
No, I suppose he definitely doesn’t have an advantage. In fact, he’s at a disadvantage because I have one thing holding me up. A husband that I loved more than life itself.
“The only thing he told me was that I needed to be patient with you.”
I chuckle sadly. He’s going to need a lot more than patience, but I don’t tell him that. David and his damn stubbornness.
We finish the rest of our meal in silence before saying a quick goodbye. We don’t talk about when we will see each other again. He doesn’t ask for my number and I don’t offer it. He says goodbye with a heavy sigh, wondering if it’s the last time.
Lucky and I spend the rest of the evening listening to my favorite song while shoveling an entire tub of ice cream down my throat. She didn’t even judge me for it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Westin
Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb. I should have kept my mouth shut. But I couldn’t lie. It’s not in me. I had to tell her she was the reason I wrote Alone in the Dark. I couldn’t admit to writing the song and then a year from now tell her it was because of her… for her.
I meant it when I told her none of this was fine. It’s not. She shouldn’t be worried about me when she just lost him.
“Want another one?” the bartender asks.
“No thanks, I’m good.” I toss a twenty on the bar and head over to the wall of photos.
My eyes scour the wall looking for our photo. It’s gone. I know it was right here.
When my mind realizes whose photo has replaced ours, I snatch it, hastily shoving it in my pocket like a common thief.
Did she do the same with mine? I mean ours.
I’m sure she took it for David.
It’s been almost a week since I saw her. I’m nervous she isn’t going to show up at the nursing home tomorrow. I want to see her. I’ve promised myself that I’m not going to push her. She has to be the one to lead the way, at least for a little while.
I head to the library with my head hanging low. Jesus, I need an escape. Maybe a good thriller will take me away. I wave to the librarian. “Hi Sandy,” I say as I pass her desk.
“Hi Westin,” she replies back, giving me a flirty smile.
Women notice me. I mean, I’m not hideous. At least not with my clothes on. I haven’t let anyone see me without clothes since the accident. I went from an all-star athlete to this in the blink of an eye. I tried, once, the woman I was with was polite, but I could tell my deformity bothered her. So, I’d cut our evening short, she ghosted me not long after.
Feeling sorry for myself doesn’t do any good, so I shove those feelings aside. My finger runs along the spines of the books in the thriller section. In my peripheral, I notice someone pass the row I’m standing in but then they back up, pausing at the end of the isle. I step closer to the books, so they can pass me if they are wanting to peruse the same section.
“Westin?” the sweetest voice calls.
As I turn to face her, I put my hands up in front of me like I just got busted doing something illegal.
She dips her head, shaking it. “Wow,” she says under her breath.
“I promise, I didn’t know you were here,” I tell her, feeling guilty even though I have no reason to.
“I believe you.” She holds up a book. “I was on my way to the grocery store and realized I needed a book for tomorrow. Um, I saw your Jeep parked outside so I knew you were here.”
“And you came in anyway.”
She nods, her mouth turning down. “I came in anyway,” she repeats.
“Why?”
“I’ve been playing your songs over and over again. I even found myself googling you. And, against my better judgement, I created a Facebook account just to see if you were there.”
“I’m not there. Social media makes me break out in hives.”
She laughs, covering her mouth. She scoots farther down the aisle, hiding from the librarian. “Maybe that’s why I’ve been itching so much.” She pretends to scratch her arms.
“So, did you find what you were looking for?” I pull a book off the shelf, scanning the back as if I’m really reading it. I’m not. My focus is on every little movement she makes.
“No.”
When she doesn’t elaborate, I glance up at her. She is looking at me. Really looking. Like maybe she’s finally seeing me. “Well, what do you want to know? Maybe I can help.”
She slides closer to me, pretending to read the titles. “Well, I guess I was wondering how you wrote Alone in the Dark, it’s as if you were living inside my head.”
“Can I show you? Tomorrow after we do our thing at the nursing home?” My heart is beating a million miles an hour.
“Do you like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?” she asks.
I laugh at her abrupt change in topic. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I haven’t had one since I was a kid.” Her golden eyes tell me she is happy with my answer.
“Okay, I’ll bring lunch, then you can show me.”
A rush of relief rolls off me. God, I didn’t realize how tightly I’d been holding myself together all week until right now. I might collapse right here at her feet.
April squeezes my arm gently. “Breathe,” she whispers.
“Okay, yeah. Tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you then.” She walks away, stopping at the end of the aisle. “I hope you find something good to read.”
Resting my hand against the shelf, I give her a smile of thanks.
She’s forgiven me.
Instead of reading my book that night, I lie in bed, staring at the photo I stole from the bar. She’s smiling, her arm around David’s sister. She’s stunning. Her lips are red, her hair curled to perfection. She looks like a pin-up model from the fifties.
I tuck the picture under my pillow for safe keeping before turning out the light.
Tomorrow is a big day. It’s time to continue what David began. We talked about this moment. I wasn’t sure I should tell her how I wrote the song, but he thought it would be an important part of her healing. It’s time to scratch at the surface a bit more.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
April
Westin’s smile is blindingly bright as he enters the room at the nursing home. I’ve tucked myself in the back behind two older ladies, hoping he doesn’t spot me. I want to see how he interacts with them. And if I’m being honest, I want to hear him sing again. It’s a shame, he’s a brilliant songwriter yet doesn’t record any of his own songs. He should be the one up on stage singing them.
“Hey guys. I got some new material to try out.”
They all clap and shout their praise for his talents. It makes me smile when his cheeks turn pink at the compliments.
I was being honest with him when I told him I had listened to his songs a million times. I have. They’re amazing. His words soothe my troubled soul. They always have; I just didn’t know he was the one writing them.
It seems I can’t get Westin out of my mind and that makes me feel terrible. I should be grieving my dead husband, not lying on the floor daydreaming about another man while listening to his songs. But then I tell myself this is what David wanted. What he himself orchestrated.
