Amber had all but lost hope in love until she crossed paths with Steve, an old friend of her father, during a casual BBQ gathering. Their whirlwind romance led them to the altar, but what unfolded on their wedding night turned everything upside down for her.

As I arrived at my parents’ house, I couldn’t help but notice the number of cars parked haphazardly on the lawn.

“What’s going on here?” I wondered out loud, already mentally preparing myself for whatever family surprise was planned.

I pulled my purse closer, locked the car, and headed towards the house, crossing my fingers for a low-key affair.

Once inside, I was immediately greeted by the aroma of grilled meats and the hearty sound of my dad’s familiar laugh. From the living room, I peered out the back window.

It was no surprise to find Dad hosting an impromptu BBQ. The backyard buzzed with people, many from his auto shop.

“Amber!” My dad exclaimed, burger flipper in hand and wearing his well-worn apron. “Grab a drink, come join us. Just the guys from work, nothing big.”

I rolled my eyes slightly, slipping off my shoes. “Seems like the entire town’s here,” I muttered to myself.

Before I could get swept into the lively atmosphere, the doorbell rang. Dad quickly set the spatula aside and cleaned his hands on his apron.

“That must be Steve,” he said under his breath, glancing at me as he moved to open the door. “You haven’t met him yet, have you?”

I barely had a chance to reply before Dad swung the door open.

“Steve!” Dad greeted him, clapping him on the back. “Just in time. Meet my daughter, Amber.”

I looked up, and my heart did a little flip.

Steve stood tall, with a rugged handsomeness about him — silver streaks in his hair and eyes that seemed both warm and profound. His smile was gentle, and I felt an unexpected flutter.

“Nice to meet you, Amber,” he said, extending a hand.

His voice was calm, reassuring. I shook his hand, suddenly self-conscious about my travel-worn appearance.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him the entire afternoon. He had this way of putting everyone at ease, more a listener than a talker. Despite my attempts to focus on the chatter, whenever our eyes met, there was a magnetic pull.

This was unexpected. I wasn’t looking for romance. After all I had been through, love had taken a backseat.

So far, my energies were directed towards work and family, not relationships. But something about Steve made my heart open, against all logic.

As the day wound down, I said my farewells, planning to head home. But my car had other ideas and refused to start.

“Wonderful,” I groaned, leaning back into the driver’s seat. I was about to head back inside for help when a knock on the window startled me.

It was Steve.

“Having car trouble?” he asked, smiling as if this kind of thing was a common occurrence.

I sighed. “Yeah, the engine’s uncooperative. I thought about asking my dad, but…”

“Let me have a look,” he offered, already rolling up his sleeves to help.

He skillfully pieced together what was wrong, and within minutes, the engine purred back to life. I realized I had been holding my breath as I sighed in relief.

“All set,” he said, cleaning his hands with a rag. “Good to go now.”

I grinned, thankful. “Thanks, Steve. Guess I owe you one now.”

He shrugged, his eyes meeting mine in a way that made my stomach flutter. “How about dinner? We can call it even with that.”

Dinner? My mind went blank for a moment. Was this an invitation?

My initial reaction was skepticism, that little voice reminding me of reasons to decline. Yet, something earnest in Steve’s gaze pushed me to reconsider.

“Dinner sounds nice.”

And there it was—my agreement. I hadn’t foreseen then that Steve was the perfect balm for my heart—or just how deeply he’d wound it, either.

Half a year passed, and there I stood, dressed as a bride in my old bedroom from thirty-nine years ago. I hadn’t anticipated wearing a wedding dress again, nor dreamed of such a day after all I’d endured.

Our ceremony was a cozy, understated affair. Only family and closest friends were present, just as we wished.

As I stood at the altar, looking into Steve’s eyes, I felt an unshakeable calm. For once, doubts didn’t cloud my mind.

“I do,” I whispered, tears threatening to spill over.

“I do,” Steve echoed, his voice a blend of adoration and emotion.

Just like that, husband and wife.

That night, amidst the blessings and embraces, we finally had a moment alone. At Steve’s house—now our house—I took a moment to myself in the unfamiliar new surroundings.

As I slipped into something comfortable and returned to the bedroom, what I saw stopped me cold.

Steve was there on the bed’s edge, speaking softly to someone unseen, his back turned.

My heart fluttered.

“I wanted you to witness this, Stace. Today was perfect… I just wish you were here,” his voice full of longing.

I froze at the door, grappling with what I was witnessing.

“Steve?” I spoke, my voice carrying hesitance.

He turned, surprise then remorse flitting across his face.

“Amber, I—”

I walked closer, a charged silence enveloping us. “Who were you talking to?”

He took a deep breath. “To Stacy. My daughter.”

I was puzzled, the weight of realization slow to settle. I knew Steve’s daughter had passed, but this, this was new.

“They were in an accident, she and her mom,” he explained with difficulty. “But sometimes I speak to Stacy. It might sound odd, but to me, it feels like she’s here. Especially today. I wanted to share this joy with her.”

I was silent, the air heavy. Steve’s sorrow was vivid, clawing into my heart.

But fear didn’t grip me, nor anger. Just pure, heartfelt grief for him—for his loss and solitude. His sorrow was a tangible weight we now shared.

I sat beside him, placing my hand over his. “I understand,” I said gently. “I truly do. You’re not losing your mind, Steve. You’re just mourning.”

He exhaled unevenly, looking at me with such raw honesty that it hurt. “I owe you an apology. I should’ve mentioned it sooner. I feared driving you away.”

“You won’t,” I assured him, squeezing his hand. “Everyone’s got their ghosts. But we’re partners, sharing these burdens now.”

Tears brimmed in his eyes as I embraced him, feeling his unspoken pain and gratitude.

“Perhaps we could talk to someone? A therapist might help. You and Stacy won’t be alone anymore,” I suggested softly.

He nodded, his grip on me firm. “I’ve considered it. Just didn’t know how to proceed. Thank you, Amber. I never realized how much I needed this realization.”

I pulled back slightly to see his eyes, filled with a love I never knew possible. “We’ll manage, Steve. Together.”

As I sealed the moment with a kiss, I knew we’d be fine. Our love isn’t flawless, but it’s genuine, which is what truly matters.

Isn’t that what love truly is? Not about seeking flawless individuals, but accepting and joining forces with those whose scars you’re ready to embrace?