I should’ve been shocked. Should’ve needed time to process. But the truth was, I’d known. Maybe for months. Maybe longer.
“It’s not wrong,” I heard myself say. “I feel it too.”
He finally looked at me then, and I saw tears in his eyes.
“Are you sure? Because I can’t become another loss for you. I can’t be something you regret.”
“I’m sure,” I said, and I meant it.
We didn’t tell people right away. We wanted to be certain, to make sure it wasn’t just grief or convenience or some twisted way of holding onto Peter.
However after six months, as it became clear this was real, we started letting people in.
My kids each showed their support in their own way. My son was more reserved, but he shook Dan’s hand and said, “Dad would’ve wanted Mom to be happy.”
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…?”