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I growled as I picked her up and carried her to her bed.
The next morning, when I awoke, Paisley wasn’t in bed. I got up and found her standing in her closet.
“Good morning. What are you doing?”
“I need to clean out all his things.”
“I can help you if you want,” I said as I wrapped my arms around her.
“Thanks, but I think I need to do this alone.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” She smiled as she kissed my lips. “Thank you for offering.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll go feed Romeo and make us some coffee.”
Chapter Forty-One
Paisley
I quickly made the bed and set my suitcase on top of it. I hadn’t had the chance to unpack fully. As I took out a pile of clothes, I saw the pink envelope sitting there. I picked it up and stared at it.
“What’s that?” Ben asked as he handed me a cup of coffee.
I didn’t answer him at first. Did I dare tell him about the letter and risk sounding like a lunatic?
“It’s a letter I wrote,” I finally answered.
“To whom?”
“Follow me,” I said as I led him to my office.
I opened up the drawer that neatly housed all my written letters to my deceased husband and pulled them out. Ben stood there with a confused look on his face.
“These are the letters I’ve been writing to my husband every Saturday since the day he died. This last one is the final letter I wrote to him on the anniversary of his death.”
“Paisley,” he whispered.
“It sort of helped me. I still felt a sense of connection when I wrote these. Does that make sense?”
“Perfect sense. What are you going to do with them?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet. I don’t want to burn them or throw them away, yet I don’t want to hold onto them either. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“Awe, babe. Come here,” he said as he held out his arms.
I walked over, and he embraced me, kissing the top of my head. “I want you to keep them. I promise you that I don’t mind. We both had a life with other people before we met, which can’t be easily disregarded. If you want to put them in a box and tuck them away in the corner of your closet, then do it. But if you want my honest opinion on what you should do with them, I think you should publish them with your book.”
“Really?” I asked as I looked up at him.
“Think about it, Paisley. That book is about how you felt and lived after he died. You’re telling people your story. Show them what you’ve told.”
“I love you so much, Ben.”
“I love you too.” He smiled. “I’m going to get dressed and go home. There’s something I need to finish up. Do you want to go Christmas shopping later?”
“That’s a good idea. We should do that.”