I had completely given up on love. After so many years of heartbreak and broken promises, I told myself I didn’t need anyone to be happy. And I really believed it. But, of course, life loves to prove me wrong.
One sunny afternoon, I was driving up the gravel driveway to my parents’ house. The tires crunched under me as I pulled in. I hit the brakes when I saw cars parked everywhere — even right on the lawn.
“What’s going on here?” I muttered to myself, frowning. I had hoped for a quiet visit with Mom and Dad, not a surprise party. I sighed, grabbed my purse, locked the car, and braced myself for whatever was happening inside.
The moment I opened the front door, I smelled sizzling burgers and heard my dad’s big laugh echoing through the house.
“Amber!” Dad shouted as soon as he spotted me. He was at the grill in his ancient ‘King of the Grill’ apron. “Come on in! Grab a drink! Join us — it’s just the guys from the shop!”
I rolled my eyes and kicked off my shoes. “Looks like the whole town’s here,” I grumbled under my breath. The living room was packed. I peeked through the window — the backyard was even worse. All Dad’s auto repair crew was out there, laughing and drinking.
Then the doorbell rang. Dad spun around like he’d been waiting for it all day. “That must be Steve!” he said, mostly to himself. “You haven’t met him yet, right?”
Before I could answer, he threw the door open like he was announcing royalty. “Steve! Come in! You’re just in time. And hey — meet my daughter, Amber.”
I turned and there he was. Steve. He was tall, rugged, kind of weathered — handsome in a way that made my stomach do a backflip. He had graying hair, warm eyes that held something soft in them. Something I didn’t expect.
“Nice to meet you, Amber,” he said, sticking out his hand with a gentle smile.
I took his hand, and my heart did this weird little dance. “Nice to meet you too,” I managed, hoping he didn’t see how flustered I was.
The whole afternoon, I kept trying not to look at him — and failed miserably. There was something so… easy about him. He had this quiet charm that made everyone around him relax. I’d been to a million of Dad’s barbecues, but I’d never felt like this before. Every time Steve laughed or looked my way, my chest tightened.
Hours later, after the food and endless small talk, I decided it was time to escape. I said my goodbyes, got in my car, turned the key — and… nothing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned, banging my head lightly on the steering wheel. I did not want to go back in and ask Dad for help. I was about to give up when I heard a tap on my window.
I jumped. It was Steve.
“Car trouble?” he asked, his smile so calm and casual, like this was no big deal.
I gave him a helpless look. “Yeah. It won’t start. I was just about to drag my dad out here but…”
Steve waved his hand like it was nothing. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Pop the hood — I’ll take a look.”
He rolled up his sleeves and went right to work. I watched him, fascinated by how sure he was. He didn’t even hesitate. A few minutes later, my engine sputtered to life like it had never been dead at all.
“There you go,” Steve said, wiping his hands with a rag. “Should be good now.”
I felt so relieved I almost wanted to hug him. “Thank you, Steve. I guess I owe you one.”
He grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about dinner? We’ll call it even.”
I froze for a second. Was he asking me out? My brain screamed to be careful, but my heart jumped in anyway. There was something about him — warm, steady, real. I wanted to see where this could go.
“Yeah,” I said before I could talk myself out of it. “Dinner sounds good.”
And just like that, my world flipped upside down.
Six months later, I was standing in front of the mirror in my old bedroom at my parents’ house. But this time, I was in a wedding dress. A real wedding dress — lace, buttons, the whole deal. I could hardly breathe as I smoothed the fabric over my hips. Was this really my life now?
I’d sworn off love — and now I was marrying Steve.
The ceremony was small, just family and a few close friends. When I stood facing him, my hands in his, I felt like everything made sense again. It wasn’t perfect — but it was real.
“I do,” I whispered when it was my turn, my voice trembling with happy tears.
“I do,” Steve said, his voice thick, his eyes shining.
And just like that, I was his wife.
We moved into his place — our place, now. The house was new to me, but every room felt like a promise. After the last guest left, I changed into comfy clothes and padded back to our bedroom, ready to soak in this new chapter of my life.
But when I opened the door, I froze.
Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed, talking softly to… no one. His back was to me, shoulders slightly hunched.
“I wanted you to see this, Stace,” he was saying, his voice thick with emotion. “Today was perfect… I wish you could’ve been here.”
My stomach dropped. “Steve?” I asked, my voice small.
He turned around so slowly, and the guilt in his eyes nearly broke me.
“Amber, I—”
“Who were you talking to?” I asked. My heart thudded so loud I could barely hear myself.
He looked down, took a deep breath. “I was talking to Stacy. My daughter.”
I felt the air get sucked out of the room. I knew about Stacy. Steve had told me about her — how she and her mom had died in a car crash years ago. But I didn’t know he still… talked to her.
“She died in that crash,” Steve said, his voice cracking. “But sometimes… I talk to her. I know it sounds crazy. But today — I wanted her to know about you. I wanted her to see how happy I am.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, but not out of fear. Out of something deeper — sadness for the man I loved, for all he had lost.
I crossed the room and sat beside him. I took his hand in mine. “I get it,” I said, my voice soft. “You’re not crazy, Steve. You’re grieving.”
He let out a shaky breath, tears he’d been holding back spilling over. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner. I didn’t want to scare you away.”
I squeezed his hand tight. “You’re not scaring me away. We all have ghosts, Steve. We’ll carry them together.”
He pulled me into his arms, and we just sat there, our sorrow wrapping around us like a blanket we both needed.
“Maybe we could talk to someone,” I said quietly. “A therapist. You shouldn’t have to carry this alone anymore.”
He nodded into my shoulder. “I’ve thought about it. I just… didn’t know how. Thank you, Amber. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear this.”
I pulled back, just enough to see his face, to really look at him — this brave, broken, wonderful man I got to love. “We’ll figure it out,” I said. “Together.”
And in that moment, I knew our love was real. Not perfect. Not easy. But real. And that was enough for me.
Because love isn’t about finding someone who’s unscarred — it’s about choosing to stand beside them, scars and all.
What do you think? Would you want more stories like this? ❤️
