The woman who had believed her best years were behind her because her husband no longer wanted the life they had built together.
The woman who had walked into an empty storefront and turned a forgotten dream into a thriving business.
She had not become happy because another man chose her.
She had become happy because she finally chose herself.
And somewhere along the way, she had chosen me too.
I leaned down and kissed her.
When we separated, she rested her forehead against mine.
“Do you regret answering that phone call?” she whispered.
I thought about the rainy streets, the terrible diner coffee, the broken wineglass, the months of separation, and the day Daniel had stood in my apartment asking whether I had fallen in love with his mother.
I thought about the bookstore, the difficult conversations, and the life we had built from the pieces of three very different futures.
