“I’m not sure I ever stopped believing,” Kathleen said slowly. “Even when my marriage to David fell apart, and later, when Patrick and I were just friends, I believed love existed. I just didn’t think it existed for me anymore.”
“What changed?” Amy asked.
Kathleen’s smile was tender. “I did. I stopped waiting for my life to look the way I thought it should and started appreciating what I actually had. And there Patrick was, standing in front of me, exactly where he’d always been.”
Isabel nodded, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. “When James died, I was certain that was it for me. One great love in a lifetime felt like enough—maybe more than I deserved.” She looked at Lynda. “But then Frank came along with his quiet strength and his grandson. He didn’t ask me to forget James. He just offered to walk beside me while I carried that love forward.”
“That’s what Matt does,” Lynda said quietly. “He honors Maria’s memory. He talks about her with Stephanie like she’s still part of their family, because she is. And somehow, that makes room for me instead of pushing me away.”
Susan felt her throat tighten. These women—her dear friends—had all found ways back to hope after loss. They’d let themselves remain open despite every reason to close their hearts.
“I’m terrified,” Susan heard herself say. The words surprised her, spilling out before she could stop them. “My first marriage was safe but empty. Most days I think I’m ready for a new relationship. Then something will happen, and I don’t know if I’m brave enough to reach for it.”
“You’re talking about Paul,” Kathleen said. It wasn’t a question.
Susan nodded, not trusting her voice.
“What scares you the most?” Isabel asked gently.
“That I’ll mess it up.” Susan set down her plate, her appetite suddenly gone. “When I watch you with Patrick, Kathleen, or when I see how Lynda lights up when Matt walks into a room—I want that. But wanting it, and being capable of it, feel like two different things.”
Amy reached across the table to squeeze Susan’s hand. “My mom felt the same way. Didn’t you, Mom?”
Lynda nodded. “I thought I was too damaged, too angry, and too set in my ways to let anyone close. And then Matt was there, being patient and kind and refusing to give up on us.”
“The thing about love,” Stephanie said thoughtfully, “is that it doesn’t need us to be perfect, healed, or ready. It just needs us to be willing.”
The wisdom in her words hung in the air, settling into Susan’s bones like medicine.
“Besides,” Kathleen added with a return to her usual practical tone, “Paul could be just as wary as you are. It isn’t easy to love someone again, especially if you’ve been married before.”
Isabel smiled. “On the flip side, he made a French dessert for your friend’s bachelorette party. I’d say that’s a positive sign that he’s head-over-heels in love with you.”
Despite herself, Susan laughed. The sound broke some of the tension in her chest, making room for something that felt warm and hopeful.
“So, what do we do?” Amy asked, looking around at the older women. “How do we learn to be brave enough for this?”
“We be ourselves and enjoy life,” Lynda said simply. “We keep being positive, even when it’s scary. Even when we want to run away and protect ourselves.”
“And we surround ourselves with people who remind us why it’s worth it,” Kathleen added, gesturing to include everyone in the room. “Friends who’ve found love again and know what it feels like.”
Susan looked around the bookstore, taking in each face illuminated by the soft glow of fairy lights. They were all brave enough to risk their hearts one more time despite everything that had happened.
“To good friends,” Susan said, raising her coffee mug once more. “And to being brave enough to let ourselves be loved.”
“To second chances,” Isabel added.
“To new beginnings,” Kathleen said.
“And to love that finds us when we least expect it,” Lynda finished, her voice thick with emotion.
Their mugs met in the center of the table with a gentle clink that seemed to seal something sacred between them.
They finished their dessert slowly, trading stories and laughter beneath the fairy lights. Susan listened, letting their stories wash over her like a blessing. These women had survived divorce and widowhood, betrayal and grief. They’d pieced themselves back together and found the courage to risk their hearts one more time. If they could do it, maybe she could too.
“I have one more question,” Amy said as they were finishing their coffee. “For all of you who are married or getting married. What’s the secret? How do you make it work?”
The question hung in the air for a moment while everyone thought about the answer.
