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“You don’t have to keep doing this,” I told him one evening, maybe four months after the funeral. He was replacing a lightbulb in the hallway, something I could’ve done myself but hadn’t bothered with.
“I know,” he said, not looking at me. “But Pete would’ve done it for me.”
And that was it. No ulterior motives. No hidden agenda. Just a man keeping a promise to his best friend.
The feelings crept up on me so slowly I didn’t recognize them at first.
An anxious woman lost in thought | Source: Midjourney
An anxious woman lost in thought | Source: Midjourney
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It was three years after Peter died. My kids were finding their footing again. I was learning how to be a person instead of just a widow. Dan had been around less, giving me space I didn’t realize I needed.
But one night, my kitchen sink started leaking at 11 p.m., and I called him without thinking.
He showed up in sweatpants and an old college T-shirt, toolbox in hand.
“You know you could’ve just turned off the water and called a plumber in the morning,” he said, already crouching down to look under the sink.
“I could’ve,” I admitted, leaning against the counter. “But you’re cheaper!”
He laughed. And something in my chest shifted.
A man holding a spanner | Source: Freepik
A man holding a spanner | Source: Freepik
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It wasn’t dramatic. There were no fireworks or movie moments. It was just the two of us in my kitchen at midnight, and I realized I didn’t feel alone anymore.
Over the next year, we fell into something I can only describe as comfortable. Coffee on Sunday mornings. Movies on Friday nights. Long conversations about nothing and everything. My kids noticed before I did.
“Mom,” my daughter said during winter break, “you know Dan’s in love with you, right?”
“What? No, we’re just friends.”
She gave me that look. The one that said she was the adult, and I was the clueless teenager.
“Mom, come on!”
A young woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
A young woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
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I didn’t know what to do with that information. Didn’t know if I wanted to do anything with it. Peter had been gone for four years, and a part of me still felt like I was cheating just by thinking about someone else.
But Dan never pushed. Never asked for more than I was ready to give. And maybe that’s what made it okay. Made it feel less like a betrayal and more like life just happening.
When he finally told me how he felt, we were sitting on my porch watching the sun set. He’d brought Chinese food, and I’d supplied the wine.
“I need to tell you something,” he said, not looking at me. “And you can tell me to leave and never come back if you want. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”
A man standing outside a building | Source: Midjourney
A man standing outside a building | Source: Midjourney
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My heart started racing. “Dan…”
“I’m in love with you, Isabel.” He said it quietly, like he was confessing to a crime. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time. And I know it’s wrong. I know Pete was my best friend. But I can’t help it.”
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.”
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
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