I should go home.”
He nodded silently, his usual reserved demeanor returning, and walked me to the door. Before I stepped outside, he hesitated. “You can call me Peter,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
“And you can call me Margaret,” I replied, smiling. Then, to my astonishment, he leaned in. For a moment, I froze, uncertain, but when his lips brushed mine, I realized I didn’t want to pull away.
The kiss was gentle and hesitant, but it stirred something I hadn’t felt in years. As he pulled back, he searched my face for a reaction. I simply smiled, my heart lighter than it had been in ages.
“Good night, Peter,” I said softly, stepping outside. The cool night air met my flushed cheeks, but the smile stayed on my face all the way home—and long after. Peter became an irreplaceable part of my days.
We spent hours together, laughing over neighborhood gossip, reading books from his vast collection, and trying our hands at new recipes. While I cooked, he’d hum my favorite songs, filling the house with warmth. I found a joy I hadn’t known in years, a quiet contentment that made everything else fade.
Kate’s sharp remarks no longer bothered me; my world revolved around Peter. On Thanksgiving, I invited him to dinner so he wouldn’t spend the day alone. I noticed him slipping into the kitchen to speak with Kate.
Curious, I followed. “Kate, I wanted to talk to you about the record player,” Peter said, his voice hesitant but firm. “Mr.
Davis, I’ve already ordered it. It’ll arrive soon. You have no idea how grateful I am,” Kate replied with a hint of relief.
“You’ve made my life so much easier. I don’t know how you put up with her, but soon the record player will be yours. Thank you for agreeing to this whole charade.”
The words hit me like a slap.
A record player? Putting up with me? A charade?
The realization burned through me as anger surged. “So, this was all a game?!” I burst into the kitchen, my voice trembling with fury. Kate froze, her face pale.
“Oh…” was all she managed. “Care to explain?!” I shouted, my gaze darting between her and Peter. Andrew rushed in, his brow furrowed in concern.
“What’s going on?”
“Your wife concocted some scheme against me!” I exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Kate. Andrew sighed deeply. It was as if he was bracing himself for a storm.
“Mom, it wasn’t just her. It was my idea too. We thought you and Mr.
Davis might make each other happy. Neither of you would have made the first move, so we gave him a little… encouragement.”
“Encouragement?” I repeated, my voice rising. “We offered him a record player,” Andrew admitted, his tone measured but guilty.
“In exchange for going on dates with you.”
“Andrew, why?” Kate whispered. “At least my son is honest with me!” I snapped, crossing my arms. “Your son was also at his wit’s end with you!” Kate shot back, her voice tinged with frustration.
“You were constantly interfering in our lives, nitpicking every little thing I did. And I’m pregnant with your grandchild—I couldn’t handle the stress! So yes, we came up with this plan, and it worked perfectly.
You finally had something to do, and I got a break!”
Her words hung in the air, stinging more than I cared to admit. I shook my head, disbelief coursing through me. “You know what, Peter?
I could have expected this from her. But not from you.”
“Margaret, I can explain…” Peter began, stepping toward me. But I was too angry to listen.
I stormed out of the house, my old leg injury reminding me of its presence with every step. “Margaret!” Peter called after me. “Margaret, wait!”
Spinning around, I glared at him.
“What?! What could you possibly say? I’m too old for these games!”
He stopped, his face clouded with regret.
“I told Kate I didn’t need her record player! That I just wanted to be with you!” he shouted, his voice raw with emotion. “That doesn’t change the fact that you agreed to it at first,” I retorted, my voice trembling.
“Because you were awful!” Peter snapped, then softened. “Or at least, that’s what I thought. I heard how you constantly picked on Kate, always telling her what to do.
But the truth is, I wasn’t any better—grumpy, closed off, and bitter. You changed me, Margaret. You made me feel alive again.
You reminded me how to find joy in the little things.”
I hesitated, his words piercing through my anger. “Why should I believe you?” I asked, my voice quieter now. Peter stepped closer, his gaze steady.
“Because I’ve fallen for you, Margaret. For the meticulous, bossy, always-right woman who also cares so deeply, who cooks meals that feel like home, and who knows all my favorite songs by heart. I love you—all of you.”
Tears welled in my eyes, his confession shaking me to my core.
The truth was undeniable—I had fallen for him too. No matter how furious I was, my feelings wouldn’t let me walk away. He reached out, gently brushing a tear from my cheek.
“I’m sorry for hurting you. Please, give me a second chance.”
I nodded slowly, letting the tension ease. “Alright,” I said, my voice softening.
“But you’re keeping that record player from Kate. We’ll need it for our music.” Peter laughed, relief and joy washing over his face. From that Thanksgiving on, Peter and I were inseparable.
Each year, we celebrated the holiday with music playing on that record player, our love growing stronger with every tune. Source: amomama
