When my co-worker Crystal touched my hand, my heart skipped a few beats. We had always been a little closer to each other than most co-workers but in the months since my wife had passed, we had become even more so. She seemed to have taken it as her responsibility to ensure I was okay and not retreating into myself or becoming some kind of a hermit.

It all started about six years before the love of my life found out about her illness. When I started with our company, Crystal and I hit it off right away. We had more than a few interests in common in spite of the fact that she was the same age as my oldest daughter and, at that point in my life, almost exactly half my age. At 5’5”, she was a couple of inches shorter than I am. She is rather plain-looking, but when she smiles, she lights up the room and makes everyone’s day just that little bit better. Then we found out we shared the same birthday, which led to joint celebrations at work where co-workers would bring in cake and sing ‘Happy Birthday’, each of them in their own key. They referred to it as ‘the key of we’!

One day, when my wife, Evelyn, and I were at a farmer’s market, we bumped into Crystal. I introduced them, and we ended up sharing lunch from a nearby food truck. We chatted while we ate. The women chatted, and I mostly listened. They seemed to get along very well. When it was time to leave, we shared hugs, and Crystal blew us a kiss as she walked away. “Interesting,” my wife said.

“What’s interesting?” I asked her. “She blew us a kiss, she does that all the time at work.”

“She blows kisses to her co-workers?” Her smile told me she was teasing me, “Or just to you?”

That made me stop and think for a minute, and I could not remember her ever blowing a kiss to another co-worker and not doing the same for me. “She’s sweet on you,” my wife said. I protested, but she just laughed, “Relax, I think it’s cute; a girl half your age thinks you’re hot!” Again, I protested, and the more I did so, the harder she laughed. “It’s fine, Sweetie, so long as you don’t feel the same way.”

“I like her,” I said, “she’s fun to be around, and she’s great at her job.”

“Careful, Sweetie, you know the old saying about workplace relationships,” she was enjoying herself.

“Stop it!” When we made love that night, the teasing continued, “You wish it was Crystal here instead of me, don’t you?” Again, I protested, and finally, she let it go.

My wife had been feeling unwell for a few months, and when she came home from an appointment at the diagnostic imaging appointment, the conversation that night had been awful. Her doctor hadn’t told her officially, but she said that from the look on the technician’s face, she knew that the news would be the very worst.

We cried in each other’s arms for what seemed like forever, made beautiful love and then cried some more. Nineteen days later, she got the horrible news, it was pancreatic cancer, and it was inoperable. Seventeen days later, she went into palliative care; six days after that, she was gone. In only forty-two days, our lives had gone from happy to anguish; never again would I see her face in the morning or kiss her good night, and never again would we hold each other after sharing our love and whisper the sweet words that we shared. Devastated doesn’t even come close to what I felt.

In the days and weeks afterwards, my co-workers tried their best to console me and help out where they could by bringing me prepared meals and inviting me to their homes for dinners. I accepted all offers with gratitude, but to say I was not doing well was my life’s biggest understatement. I just didn’t know if I could go on alone or if I even wanted to.

Crystal and I had gotten into the habit of meeting on Saturday mornings for brunch. Some days, we would go to a farmer’s market or some other activity, indeed we had planned something for that Saturday, but our plans got derailed. We had just finished our coffees when I saw a woman walk by who reminded me of my wife, and the tears started again. That’s when she reached out and grasped my hand, squeezing it softly, “Let it all out, David, it’s okay.” That touch changed my life.

Instantly, the tears stopped; I looked at her, “Thank you, Crystal,” I said, wiping my face with a handkerchief, “I don’t know what I would have done these past weeks without you.” She squeezed my hand a little tighter and took a deep breath.

“David, I have a confession to make,” she said. She paused again, took another cleansing breath and looked at me. “I am very attracted to you; I have been since the first day you came to work with us. I didn’t dare say anything or act on it because you were married, and I really liked your wife when I met her. I couldn’t try to come between you.” I started to speak, but she stopped me, placing her finger on my lips. “Let me finish, please.”

She took another deep breath and continued, “When your wife died, I saw how broken your heart was. We all did, but inside, I was a little bit happy. It’s horribly selfish, I know, but I couldn’t help it. I hoped it was just a matter of time to let you grieve, and then I thought that maybe we might be able to get closer to each other.”

I was speechless. As I said, I was always attracted to her but never in my wildest fantasies, and there had been a couple of them. Did I think she might feel the same way about me. “But I’m twice your age!” I protested, “My oldest daughter is only a month younger than you are!”

“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Crystal said softly, “if you want me to.”

“Crystal, I don’t know,” I said, still not believing what I heard. “What will the people at work say?”

“I don’t care what they’ll say,” she replied. “Sure, they’ll talk, but I know that there will be more than a few of them who will be thrilled for you and for us.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I said. “I like you, I really do, but us, together?” I shook my head. She squeezed my hand again, and I squeezed hers back. “Can I think about this?”

“I was hoping you’d sweep me into your arms and take me home with you,” she said. “But I understand. Take all the time you need.” We stood up and held hands for a moment, then shared a tight hug; she gives the nicest hugs.

“I should go,” I said before leaning forward to kiss her cheek, but she was having none of that. She placed her finger beside my chin and turned my head to kiss me delicately on my lips. It lasted for only a couple of seconds, and she didn’t offer her tongue, just a nice soft kiss. Our lips made that little soft sound that lips do when they part.

“I’ll see you Monday morning!” she said like it was a promise. I watched as she walked away, her hips swaying and her hair bouncing as she skipped around a couple of children who had wandered into her path. She smiled and said something to the nearby mom, then turned and blew me a kiss. Once more, my heart skipped.

The next day, Sunday, I went to visit my wife. I told her about what Crystal had said and that I was unsure about how I felt. I also told her that my feelings for Crystal felt like a betrayal and that I wasn’t sure if I could go through with it. I slept a tormented sleep that night, and when I went to work the next morning, I was exhausted.

Crystal and I exchanged our usual greetings and tried not to let on that our relationship had changed. Later that day, I went to my manager and said I wanted to take a few days’ vacation and go visit my daughter. I told her we were both struggling with our loss and needed to spend some time together. “No problem,” she said, “take as much time as you need,” I told my co-workers I wasn’t feeling well and would be away for a few days, and I left.

I didn’t get to my car when my phone pinged; I knew it was Crystal. “R U OK?” the text message read. “I’ll call u later,” was my reply. I called my daughter, Elizabeth, to ask her if she was okay if I came and stayed with her and her husband for a few days.

“Of course, Daddy,” she replied. “Sarah’s been asking about you.” Sarah was my twenty-month-old granddaughter and was just learning to talk a little more fluently. I went home, packed a bag and hit the road for the two-hour drive. It seemed like two days, and all I thought about was Crystal. “Can we really do this? I realized at that moment that I wanted to pursue a relationship with her, even though I felt it was wrong on so many levels.

My arrival at my daughter’s house took my mind off Crystal for a few hours; I enjoyed reuniting with Sarah, playing with her and reading to her. After one last story, I kissed her goodnight and went back into the living room. “She’s out,” I said to my daughter and her husband.

“Daddy, are you okay?” she asked me. “Did something happen?”

“I just miss your mom,” I said, my head falling into my hands as the tears started again. She whispered something to her husband, and he left the room. She came and sat beside me, cradling me in her arms as we cried together. “It’s just so fucking unfair!” I shouted. She soothed me, urging me not to wake the baby.

“I know, Daddy, I know. I say that every day.” She was so much like her mother in so many ways, always more concerned about others than she was herself. We hugged for a little while, then I kissed her forehead and excused myself to bed. I was exhausted and was asleep in minutes.

I awoke a couple of hours later to use the washroom, as men my age often have to do and as I passed my daughter’s room on my way back to bed, I could hear giggling and then the unmistakable sound of two people kissing. I got back into bed and pulled a pillow over my head to drown them out, but it was no good. “Goodness,” I thought to myself when they were finished, “she even sounds like her mother in bed!” I felt like a pervert, listening to my daughter have sex and getting an erection in the bargain.

The next day, I busied myself helping out with a few chores. My son-in-law was a good man, but he was not very handy. After replacing a broken switch cover and clearing out the downspouts, I went back inside. “I just put Sarah down for her nap,” my daughter said. “I’m making a sandwich for lunch. Do you want one?”

“Sure,” I said as I washed my hands. We chatted about some other things that I noticed needed doing around the house when my daughter laughed and went to the cupboard, returning with a sheet of paper.

“My ‘Honey-do List’,” she laughed as she set it down. “I love Charlie to death, but around the house, he hasn’t quite got the hang of it! Good thing he’s good in…” she stopped. “Oh my God, Daddy, I’m sorry!”

It was my turn to laugh,” Don’t worry, honey,” I said. “I know what husbands and wives do when they’re alone.” I reached out and held her hand, “Make the most of your time together; you just never know how long you’ve got.” We hugged and cried again.

“I’ve met someone,” I blurted out.

“What?” she cried. “Who? When? How long?”

“She’s a co-worker,” I said, “her name is Crystal. We’ve known each other since I started working at my job, about six years. We’ve always liked each other, and she’s been amazing since your mother died. Now I think I have feelings for her.”

“Oh my God, Daddy, that’s so amazing!” I thought back to when she was a teenager and everything she liked was ‘so amazing!’ the memory made me smile. “So, like, are you dating or anything?”

“We see each other at work every day,” I said, “and most Saturdays we go for brunch. Then, last Saturday, she told me how she feels about me.”

“Do you have a photo of her?” This was the moment that I was dreading. How was I going to tell my daughter that I was attracted to a woman the same age as she was? Reluctantly, I took out my phone and brought up the picture of us sitting at the farm market. I passed my phone across the table.

“Oh,” was all she could get out. “She’s pretty. Such a lovely smile.”

“I think so,” I replied.

“You know what they say about workplace relationships,” she said. I nodded. Then she got to the question I was dreading to hear.

“She’s what, my age?” She looked at me sternly.

“A month older than you are,” I said, looking down at the tablecloth.

“Mom told me about a co-worker of yours that had the hots for you,” she said. She had inherited that gift to tease me from her mother. “Is this the one?”

“Your mother would never have put it that way!” I objected. She laughed, knowing she’d pushed my buttons again.

“I think she said that you had a co-worker that was sweet on you.”

“That’s what she said when they met,” I said. “They quite liked each other, you know.”

“Do you love her?” Boy, she really knew the tough questions.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I have feelings for her but they’re not the same as I had, still have for your mother. I still love your mother; I think I always will.” I paused for a moment, “I think I’d like to find out if I love Crystal too.”

“Well, you won’t find out sitting here.” So sensible, just like her mom.

“That’s the reason I came to visit,” I said. “I guess somehow, I’m looking for your mom to be okay with this.” I hugged her, “I can’t get your mom’s permission; maybe I can get yours.”

“Daddy, really? Do you think you need my permission to be happy? Do you think I needed your permission to be with Charlie or any of the other men I’ve known?”

“I guess I’m just hoping you won’t object to it,” I said.

“Of course, I don’t object! You deserve to be happy,” she said as she came over and hugged me. She kissed my cheek and continued, “What do you think Mom would want, for you to be lonely and miserable? I don’t think she would. She’d want you to be happy.” She hugged me again.

“Thanks,” I said. “You know I’m not trying to replace her, right?”

My daughter chuckled, “As if any woman ever could, Dad.” I nodded in agreement, then heaved a great sigh. I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from me. After thinking for a few minutes, I asked her another question. “Would you come to meet her?”

“Sure, I’d love to meet her,” she replied. “When did you have in mind?”

“Sunday?” I asked. “You guys come to my house for supper; you could meet her then.”

“I’ll talk to Charlie, but I think we should be able to do that.” We heard Sarah fussing; I waved and said I’d get her. I spent the rest of the afternoon with my granddaughter, playing, watching kids’ movies and reading. If I’d known that grandkids were so much fun, I’d have had them first.

For the rest of the week, I spent as much as I could with the munchkin, also taking time to show Charlie a few things he needed to know about home ownership. One afternoon, while I was showing him how to lubricate the hinges on a squeaky door, he stopped me.

“Mr. Carleton,” he said, “I hope you don’t mind, and if I’m out of line, please stop me.”

“It’s David, Charlie. Mr. Carleton sounds so formal,” I said.

“Okay, David, please excuse me for saying so, but after you told Liz about this woman you work with, we got to talking about what would happen if either one of us passed away like that.” I nodded for him to go on. “We both agreed that if one of us died, we would want the other to be happy. Don’t you think Mrs. Carleton would feel the same way?”

I pondered what he said for a moment, “I would certainly want her to be happy if I was gone. Maybe you’re right.” I slapped him on the back, “Thanks, Charlie.”

“No problem, sir,” he replied.

Crystal and I texted every day and talked a few times. We agreed to our usual brunch date on Saturday. It was agreed that I would stay over with my daughter on Friday night and then leave Saturday morning in time to make my date with Crystal.

I drove directly to the farm market for our date, not bothering to go home and change. I had done all my laundry before I left my daughter’s house, so everything was clean. When I got to the market, I could see Crystal’s little blue Mini Cooper, and I slid my SUV in beside it. I got out and went into the market proper, looking for my date, when I heard a noise behind me. Before I could turn around, a familiar pair of hands closed over my eyes from behind, “Guess who?” I’d...