Westley has always known Claire. She's always been a constant in his life, whether it be as his babysitter, his secret Santa, as his pretend-girlfriend, his confident, as the person he could always rely on.
But she's also always been the girl he lov...
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I'm sixty and I just retired. I could have waited longer, I could have stopped working earlier too, but now just feels like the right time.
After getting cancer, it puts a lot of things into perspective. I love my job but I think I've accomplished enough. I'll still give seminars or lectures now and then if anyone wants to hear an old man talking, but otherwise I prefer staying at home with Claire. She's still working on about twenty projects at the same time, lots of them are charity things, and I can't even understand how she manages everything, so I know she's kind of happy that I'll be home now and able to help her.
And anyway, it was time to stop working because Claire and I are always playing babysitters.
I'm definitely not complaining. Dean is already walking. Well, not walking, running really. He has two speeds—pet rock or rocket ship. He's either still as a statue or running into furnitures and walls all the time.
He's hilarious, our little man. Now that I'm retired I'll be able to see him when Eloise drops him off, not just Claire.
After almost thirty years of marriage, Claire and I can finally really spend all our time together. It's kind of an intoxicating realisation.
