Dating a woman like you was ever so strange. You lived in a beautiful home inherited from your grandmother. It was the greatest thing anyone had given you. Spencer still had his apartment full of books, but he lived with you practically full time now.

Everything was decorated with antique furniture. Glass cabinets full of floral tableware. Long flowing curtains. Thousands of books through our house on the shelves. The bed had a canopy and many layers of pink blankets and pillows.

He also loved your many cats—even if they would sleep on his clothes. They were all adorable, all six of them. His favourite being Eden, the white fluffy cat who would sleep on his chest at night.

You’re relationship was beautiful. Spencer was away for work, as an FBI profilier, a fair amount of time, but whenever he was back he’d bring you beautiful flowers. To stick in one of many vases you owned. And he’d always take you on dates whenever possible, usually to nice restaurants.

Spencer was completely devoted to you, being his first ever girlfriend and only love. He knew you were the love of his life. Be worshipped the ground you walked on, praised everything about you.

Today he was on a vacation week.