My daughter cried and wrapped her arms around both of us.
It was Peter’s mother who truly frightened me. She had lost her only son—how could I tell her I was building a future with his closest friend?
I asked her over for coffee, and my hands trembled the entire time.
“I need to tell you something,” I started, but she cut me off.
“You’re with Daniel.”
I froze. “How did you…?”
“I have eyes, sweetheart. And I’m not blind.” She reached across the table and took my hands. “Peter loved you both so much. If he could pick someone to take care of you, to make you happy, it would’ve been Dan.”
I started crying. Couldn’t help it.
“You’re not betraying him,” she said firmly. “You’re living. That’s what he would’ve wanted.”
So we got engaged. Nothing fancy. Just Dan on one knee in the same kitchen where he’d fixed my sink years before.
“I can’t promise perfect,” he said. “But I can promise I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”
“That’s all I need,” I told him.
The wedding was small. Just family and close friends in my backyard. We’d strung lights between the maple trees and set up borrowed chairs on the lawn. I wore a simple cream dress, nothing too formal. Dan looked nervous and happy and perfect in his navy suit.
We wrote our own vows. His words made me cry.
“I promise to honor the man who brought us together, even though he’s not here. I promise to love you in all the ways you deserve. And I promise that every single day, I’ll try to be the kind of man who’s worthy of you.”
The reception was exactly what we wanted. Casual. Warm. Real. My daughter gave a toast that had everyone laughing and crying. Dan’s daughter, now 13, stood up and said, “I’m really glad my dad found someone who makes him smile again.” I almost lost it completely.
As the last guests left and we drove to Dan’s house (our house now), I felt lighter than I had in years. Maybe I really could do this. Maybe I really could be happy again.
I slipped off my heels and went to the bathroom to wash my face, my mind still replaying the smiles and the warmth of all those embraces. When I returned to the bedroom, I expected to find Dan unwinding, maybe already out of his suit.
Instead, he was standing in front of the safe in the closet. His posture was stiff, and his hands were trembling.
“Dan?” I laughed a little, trying to ease whatever tension had crept into the room. “What’s wrong? Are you nervous?”
He didn’t turn around. Didn’t answer. Just stood there like he was frozen.
“Dan, seriously. You’re scaring me.”
When he finally turned around, the look on his face stopped my breath. It was guilt. Raw, crushing guilt. And something else… fear.
“There’s something I have to show you,” he whispered. “Something in the safe… that you need to read. Before we… before our first night as a married couple.”
My stomach dropped. “What are you talking about?”
His hands shook when he entered the code. The safe clicked open loudly in the quiet room.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and his voice cracked. “I should’ve told you sooner.”
He pulled out a plain white envelope, worn at the edges like it had been handled too many times. Inside was an old phone.
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