Read previous: Part 5
Tom and I have been living together in his house for almost a year now.
It’s incredible how much my life has changed in this time. Tom is an exceptional man. He treats me with affection, takes care of me, respects me, and above all, makes me feel desired and loved every single day. We’ve enjoyed the freedom of being a real couple: outings, short weekend trips, dinners at home, endless nights where only he and I existed.
Of course, not everything has been perfect. We’ve argued several times. There are things about him that I love and others that simply drive me crazy. I suppose that’s normal in any relationship. I was a father for many years and was married for most of that time. When I met my daughter’s mother I was young and inexperienced, but I tried to be attentive and protective. Now, living from this perspective, I understand much better what it means to be on the other side. I deeply value Tom’s little details, his patience, the way he supports me even when we argue.
Seeing things as a woman has made me appreciate him even more. Until the day my wife left us, that had been my only real experience in a long relationship. Now I understand a man’s position better… and I also understand what a woman needs. That has made our relationship much more fluid and deep.
As for my daughter… the truth is I haven’t heard much from her this past year. Just a couple of short messages asking for more time. It must have been very hard for her. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about how she’s doing, if she’s okay, if she hates me… But I promised her space and I’m trying to keep that promise, even though it hurts my soul.
A week ago Tom started acting strange. More attentive than usual, a little nervous, and disappearing for stretches of time “for work things.” I pretended not to notice, but he was clearly preparing something.
Today I finally understood what it was.
He took me to a beautiful restaurant with a view of the sea, one of those places you have to book weeks in advance. The dinner was lovely. We talked, laughed, and remembered how all of this started. At the end of the night, while we were walking along the restaurant’s private beach, Tom suddenly stopped.
He took my hands and looked me in the eyes. He was visibly nervous.
“This past year has been the best of my life,” he said with a firm but emotional voice. “I know everything started in a complicated and painful way. I know you still carry guilt about your daughter… but I also know that I love you. I love the woman you are now. I love waking up with you, fighting with you, making up with you… and I want to keep doing it for the rest of my life.”
He knelt in front of me on the sand and took out a small black velvet box.
“Will you marry me?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Tears started falling down my cheeks as I looked at the ring: simple, elegant, and perfect.
In that moment I felt everything: immense happiness, fear, renewed guilt about my daughter… and a deep love for the man in front of me.
“Yes…” I managed to say through tears, my voice breaking. “Yes, I want to, Tom.”
He stood up, kissed me passionately, and slid the ring onto my finger. He hugged me tightly while the waves broke in the distance.
I guess we got a little carried away by the heat of the moment. Nearby there was an abandoned pier whose deteriorated structure meant no one was around. As far as I’m concerned, even if my mental age doesn’t show it, this body is young and reckless with its impulses. It didn’t take long for us to find a secluded spot and let our deep passions take over our judgment.
For the first time in a long time, I felt that maybe, just maybe, I could build a happy life. Although deep in my mind a little voice kept asking what my daughter would think. I promised her space, but I believe this is something she needs to know. An extremely uncomfortable conversation awaits me.
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