ON OUR FIRST WEDDING NIGHT HE TOLD ME, “I’M SORRY. I SHOULD’VE TOLD YOU SOONER”
I visited my parents’ house and welcome by a line of cars parked across the lawn.
“What is happening here?” I wondered, already bracing myself for whatever family surprise was waiting inside.
I grabbed my handbag, locked the car, and proceeded into the house, hoping it was not too hectic.
I was greeted by the aroma of grilled meat greeted me when I opened the door. The sound of my father’s laugh made me feel at home. I strolled into the living room and looked out the rear window.
Of course, Dad was having some sort of impromptu barbecue.
The whole backyard was filled with people, most of them from his auto repair shop.
“Amber!” Dad’s voice cut through my thoughts as he flipped a burger with that same apron he’s had for years. “C’mon, grab a drink and join us. It’s just the guys from work.”
I tried not to scream. “Looks like the whole town’s here,” I said as I took off my shoes.
Before I could engage in the customary, frantic environment, the doorbell rang. Dad put down the spatula and wiped his hands with an apron.
“That must be Steve,” he said almost to himself. He glanced at me as he grabbed for the doorknob. “You haven’t met him yet, right?”
Before I could respond, Dad had flung the door open.
“Steve!” he called out, giving him a strong clap on the back. “Come on in, you’re just in time. Oh, and meet my daughter, Amber.”
I looked up, and my heart skipped a beat.
Steve was tall and ruggedly gorgeous, with graying hair and warm, deep eyes. He smiled at me, and I felt this odd flutter in my chest that I wasn’t expecting.
“Nice to meet you, Amber,” he said, stretching his hand.
His voice was calm and steady. I shook his hand, feeling a little self-conscious about my appearance after hours of driving.
“It’s nice to meet you, too. Thank you.”
From then on, I couldn’t stop looking at him. He was the type of man that made everyone feel comfortable, listening more than speaking.I tried to concentrate on the conversations, but every time our eyes met, I felt an overwhelming attraction.
That was crazy. I hadn’t thought about love or relationships in decades. Not after what I’d gone through.
I had very well given up on finding “the one” and was more focused on work and family. But something about Steve compelled me to rethink, even if I wasn’t ready to accept it.
As the day came to an end, I bid my goodbyes and walked to my car. Of course, when I attempted to start it, the engine stuttered and failed.
“Oh gosh,” I grumbled collapsing back into my seat. I debated returning inside to seek Dad for assistance, but before I could, there was a knock at my window.
It was Steve. “Car trouble?” he asked, smiling as if this kind of thing happened every day.
I sighed. “Yeah, it’s not starting. “I was just going to get my father, but…”
“Do not worry about it. Let me take a look,” he said while rolling up his sleeves.
I saw him working, his hands moving with experienced ease. Within a few minutes, my car roared to life. I didn’t know I was holding my breath until I exhaled. “There you go,” he said, wiping his hands with a cloth.
“Should be good now.”
I smiled, genuinely grateful. “Thanks, Steve. I guess I owe you one.”
He shrugged and gave me a look that made my stomach flip. “How about dinner? We can call it even.”
I froze for a second. Dinner? Was he asking me out?
I felt the usual pinch of uncertainty, the small voice in the back of my mind telling me of all the reasons I shouldn’t say yes. But something in Steve’s eyes compelled me to take the gamble.
“Yeah, dinner sounds good.”
And just like that, I agreed. I never expected Steve to be the man I needed to mend my broken heart, or to hurt me so severely.
Six months later, I stood in front of a mirror in my childhood bedroom, looking at myself in a wedding dress. It was very bizarre. After everything I’d gone through, I never imagined this day would come.
I was 39 years old and had given up on the whole fairy tale, but here I was—about to marry Steve.
The wedding was modest, with just close relatives and a few friends, which was exactly what we wanted.
I recall standing at the altar, staring into Steve’s eyes, and feeling a profound sense of peace. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t question anything.
“I do,” I said, almost holding back tears.
“I do,” Steve said, his voice full of emotion.
And just like that, we were married.
That night, after all the congrats and hugs, we finally had some alone time. Steve’s house, now our house, was silent, with rooms that were new to me. I slipped into the bathroom to change into something more comfortable, my heart full of joy.
But the moment I stepped back into the bedroom, I was met with a shocking sight.
Steve sat on the side of the bed, his back to me, and spoke gently to someone who was not there.
My heart skipped a beat.
“I wanted you to see this, Stace. Today was perfect… I just wish you could’ve been here.” His voice was soft, full of emotion.
I stood frozen in the doorway, trying to make sense of what I was hearing.
“Steve?” My voice sounded small, unsure.
He turned around slowly, guilt flickering across his face.
“Amber, I—”
I stepped closer, the air between us thick with unspoken words. “Who… who were you talking to?”
He took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping. “I was talking to Stacy. My daughter.”
I stared at him, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. He’d told me he’d had a daughter. I knew she had died. But I didn’t know about… this.
“She died in a car accident, with her mom,” he continued, his voice strained. “But sometimes I talk to her. I know it sounds crazy, but I just… I feel like she’s still here with me. Especially today. I wanted her to know about you. I wanted her to see how happy I am.”
I didn’t know what to say. My chest felt tight and I couldn’t quite catch my breath. Steve’s grief was raw, a living thing between us, and it made everything feel heavy.
But I didn’t feel scared. I didn’t feel angry. Just… so sad. Sad for him, for everything he’d lost, and the way he’d been carrying it all alone. His grief hurt me as though it were my own.
He let out a shaky breath, looking at me with such vulnerability that it nearly broke my heart. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner. I just didn’t want to scare you away.”
“You’re not scaring me away,” I said, squeezing his hand. “We all have things that haunt us. But we’re in this together now. We can carry this together.”
Steve’s eyes welled up with tears, and I pulled him into a hug, feeling the weight of his pain, his love, his fear, all of it wrapped up in that moment.
“Maybe… maybe we can talk to someone about it. A therapist, maybe. It doesn’t have to be just you and Stacy anymore.”
He nodded against my shoulder, his grip on me tightening. “I have thought about it. I just didn’t know how to get started. I appreciate your understanding, Amber. I didn’t realize how much I needed this.
I drew back just enough to meet him in the eyes, my heart overflowing with a love greater than I had ever experienced. “We will work it out, Steve. Together.”
As I kissed him, I knew we would. We weren’t flawless, but we were genuine, and for the first time, that seemed adequate.
But that’s the problem with love, isn’t it? It’s not about finding the perfect person with no scars; it’s about finding someone who is ready to share their wounds.