She Writes Love... Read Online Free PDF

okay. We’re all here for you.”
    “No, no. It’s fine. I’m just here to observe.”
    “Nonsense,” she said as she walked towards me and pulled me from my seat.
    I looked over at the hot young guy sitting one chair down from me and he had a terrified look on his face. I stood up at the podium and clutched the sides tightly.
    “Why don’t you tell us your name and how long you’ve been widowed,” Jessica said.
    I gulped as I gave a small wave. “Hi. My name is Paisley Logan and it’s been almost a year since my husband passed,” I said with a tear in my eye.
    Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together.
    “How long were you married? You look awful young,” an older woman asked.
    Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m going to kill Keaton and his bright ideas.
    “My husband passed away on our one-year wedding anniversary. He died of a massive heart attack while we were out jogging together.” There. They wanted to know, so I just let it out.
    I heard gasps. “Welcome, Paisley,” Jessica said with sympathy as she put her arm around me.
    “Welcome, Paisley,” everyone in the room followed.
    I walked back to my seat. The hot guy sitting one chair down from me wouldn’t stop staring. He was young. I would say maybe a year or two older than me. Jessica called him up and he tried to say no. I looked over at him.
    “If I had to do it, then so do you. Good luck.” I smiled.
    He smiled back as he got up from his seat and went up to the podium.
    “My name is Ben Preston and my wife and I had been married for five years before cancer took her away from me almost a year ago.”
    Again, I heard gasps and I saw people shaking their heads. Everyone welcomed him to the group and he went back to his seat. As soon as he sat down, we both looked at each other.
    “I’m sorry about your husband,” he said nervously.
    “I’m sorry about your wife,” I replied.
    I couldn’t help but to sneak little glances at Ben. He was about two inches over six feet with a muscular build. He had to work out; there was no doubt about it, looking at his well-defined arms. He wore his light brown hair short on the sides with just a little bit of a spikey wave on top. His eyes were what caught my attention the minute he looked over at me; they were the color of the Pacific Ocean and they were absolutely beautiful. But the one thing that made him stand out was the fact that he also lost someone at such a young age.
    As I sat in my chair and listened to the men and women talk one at a time about their losses, their grief, and their inability to cope at times, I couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of comfort for the first time since he died. Jessica continued to talk and then ended the meeting by asking us to partner up with the person sitting next to us and talk.
    “I want everyone to look at the person sitting next to you and that will be your support partner for the week. Go have coffee. Talk. Share. I promise you’ll feel better.”
    I looked over and Ben was staring at me. “I guess that means we’re partners,” he said.
    Suddenly, I became very nervous. My heartbeat picked up a rapid pace and I started to sweat. What did he mean “we’re partners”? I wasn’t about to be partners with anyone, especially him.
    “Sorry, but I didn’t—”
    “Come here to be partnered up with anyone. Me neither. Judging by where you’re sitting, you came here out of curiosity. You wanted to sit in the back and with the hopes that no one would notice you. You wanted to see for yourself if other people who have experienced what you have, felt the same emotions that you do and are distraught like you are. You wanted to maybe, just maybe for a moment, feel like you’re not alone.”
    I stared into his eyes as he sat there and spoke. It was as if he read my mind. I gave him a small smile. A smile that didn’t indicate anything in particular. Just a smile to acknowledge that I was listening.
    “Me too,” he said as he got up from his seat. “It