“I said, this is Jamie Westenberg. He goes by West.” “Jamie’s fine, too,” he says, after an awkward beat of silence. His voice is deep yet quiet. It hits my bones like a tuning fork. I don’t like it. Not a bit. He’s still scrutinizing me, this man I’ve decided most definitely doesn’t get to ruin hist-rom Wests and is instead getting called Jamie. Judgy Jamie suits him much better.
