A/N - I'll admit that I had to give this some thought as to which category I would write a story for. Given that I've already written two 'Mature' stories, I eventually just thought another nice little romantic story would be good.
As always with stories I write for this category, there are no detailed sex scenes. It's all about love, baby!
Previous stories in this series:
My Aunt's Best Friend (Mature)
My Brother's Best Friend (Transgender)
My Father's Best Friend (Gay Male)
My Mother's Best Friend (Mature)
My Sister's Best Friend (First Time)
My Wife's Best Friend (Romance)
Australian / British standard English. There is a good chance of reading the following: lots of profanity, characters drinking, typos, and bad grammar at times.
Proofreading and editing suggestions provided by OhDave1. Any mistakes are still mine.
Comments are appreciated as always.
Feedback by email is always welcome. Enjoy chatting with anyone who likes my work.
*****
She was just what he needed after it happened.
*****
I always thought that I was the luckiest man in the world the day I married my wife, Julia. She looked so beautiful walking down the aisle towards me. Even my best friend, who was also my Best Man at my wedding, leaned in and whispered that I was one hell of a lucky bastard that the love of my life was going to exchange vows with me and agree to become my wife.
We married at a young age. Both of us were only twenty-two. Barely out of university and starting our careers. But we'd met during our first year at university and it was almost love at first sight for the both of us. We were both nineteen. Attended different high schools though learned quickly that we only lived half an hour away from each other in the city of Sydney. We'd had partners before and were not virgins on the first day that we met, but once that spark was lit between us, neither of us stood a chance to stop what was going to happen.
I knew she was the one rather quickly. She was sharp as a tack. A wonderful sense of humour. Absolutely gorgeous. A heart of gold. We didn't agree on all the small things, but when it came to the big matters of life, we were in agreement, and it didn't take long before we fell head over heels in love. We waited at least a little while before we were intimate, as we knew there was going to be no rush. We knew we were in it for the long haul. Intimacy was simply the final piece of the jigsaw that was our relationship.
For six years, I enjoyed wedded bliss. Julia gave birth to our daughter within eighteen months of our wedding. We were eager to start our family, not wanting to be in our late forties and into our fifties with either small children or teenagers under our feet. Get our family started then enjoy our later years as empty nesters before retirement.
Everything changed when I was in the office at work, busy typing away at my laptop when I received a call. It was from my personal assistant. Yes, even though I hadn't reached the age of thirty years old, I had worked my way up in the organisation which meant I had my own little office and a personal assistant who had already proven to be a godsend.
"Mike, I've got one of the security guards from downstairs. There are a couple of police officers who wish to speak to you."
"Do they want me downstairs or..."
"No, they're asking to come up and see you."
"Have them come up immediately."
I was greeted by two uniformed coppers, and I could tell from their faces that it was going to be bad news. I just had no idea how bad until they closed the door for privacy and then told me what happened. I had no idea what real heartbreak was until they told me just what I'd lost. What caused even further grief was that the results of the autopsy informed me that Julia had been pregnant. Whether she knew at the time or not, I would never know.
My parents and hers came together to help me through the dark days that followed. Having to organise a funeral for my wife and my little girl... I could barely do it. Her father and mine were made of strong stuff, and they took charge of nearly everything. As for my mother and hers, they would not allow me to wallow in grief and self-pity. Work gave me time off to process everything, but I was not allowed to remain alone at any time. If it wasn't the parents, my older sister, Gloria, and younger sister, Kyla, were constant visitors, and my wife's older brother turned up nearly every evening with a slab of beer, sitting together in near silence, never saying a word whenever I dissolved into tears.
"I know how much you loved her, mate," he told me a couple of days before the funeral, "Trust me on this one, she loved you just as much. I never saw my sister as happy and as in love as when she was with you. I'm just sorry... You know..."
To my relief, the day of the funeral was bright and sunny. At least the weather didn't match the gloomy mood of those attending. Somehow, I managed to make it through both eulogies for my wife and child. The one thing that I had insisted is that the wake would be a joyous occasion, a celebration of two lives that were simply taken far too early. The hallway in our house was full of photos of my wife and daughter, and there were many family snapshots, whether it was just the three of us or photos including her family or mine.
I knew many of her close friends had been struggling with her loss, many of them visiting me during the time between the day I received the news and the funeral. So many were worried about me that it did raise the occasional smile. As for my friends, it was the usual things that a bloke would do. A rather stoic outlook and we resorted to things we knew, such as drinking and talking shit.
Returning home to an empty house that evening was deflating, my parents following only to make sure I was okay. My sisters had asked if I needed some company for a few more nights, assuring them I would be fine. I was going to resort to dark humour though resisted the urge. It wasn't the time, but I did smile as I knew my wife would have appreciated the comment. Her humour has been incredibly dry and occasionally dark. Always made me laugh though.
"Will you be okay, sweetie?" Mum asked as my parents had followed me home.
"I'll be fine, Mum. Don't worry," I assured her though I knew it was going to take more than just a few words for that.
"If you need anything, son," my father stated. Despite his stoic attitude, my wife has been another daughter for him. And his granddaughter... I think out of everyone apart from me, it was the two grandfathers who were shattered the most at the loss of my daughter. Those two older men had lived for their first granddaughter.
"I'm going back to work in a couple of days. It'll do me good to get back into some sort of routine. I'll eventually get around to, you know, her bedroom and then start to sort out my own as well. But there's no rush. I'm not going to come home and just brood all the time."
"You're allowed your grief though, Mike," Mum replied, giving me a hug, "Just make sure you keep in contact with everyone. Okay? Particularly her parents. They're definitely going to need you as much as you need everyone else."
"I will, Mum. Don't worry about it."
The silence was deafening once they departed, needing to fill it by putting on the television to provide some background noise. I hadn't eaten all that much during the wake so started preparing myself some dinner, needing to remind myself that I only needed enough for one person.
Going back to work was a good thing for me as at least it kept me busy, and I don't think many missed the fact that I was one of the first in the office of a morning and one of the last to leave of an evening. At least when I was at work, I was distracted and had people around me. I learned rather quickly that I hated being at home by myself. Friends did keep me company to begin with, but they had their own lives to get on with. Same with family. Ever so supportive, but they couldn't babysit me constantly.
I knew it was too soon to move on. I'd read stories about men and women who would leap into a new relationship quickly. Sometimes it worked, but a lot of the time, it was obviously a rebound and the relationship would soon fizzle out. I didn't want to do that. And in my eyes, my wife was irreplaceable anyway. I worried that any future partner would be compared to my wife, and I knew that most women would come up short. In my eyes at least.
It was perhaps three months after the funeral that I was on my first night out with some friends since my loss. They were doing their best to keep me smiling and laughing, and I didn't miss the fact that I never had an empty schooner glass. And any time I tried to put my hand in my pocket to get my wallet out, they'd tell me that my money was worthless.
I had good friends.
The conversation meandered like it normally did though the topic of moving on did eventually come up. "I don't know," I finally said, "It's too early right now. The wounds are still too raw. I've never really thought about therapy before, but given what I've been through, I've been going to talk to someone once a week through an initiative at work regarding mental health. She's been rather helpful."
"No one is suggesting you should start dating or anything," James stated, "We're just wondering how you're coping with living alone."
"It's a little too quiet for my tastes. I have taken care of certain things though. All of my wife's things have been packed up. Haven't really been able to deal with my daughter's room though. Spending time in her room makes me smile. Swear I can still hear her giggles when I walk in."
"You'll be okay, mate," Mark suggested, "Just don't rush into anything. That's the only advice any of us could probably give."
"Expect all of us to continually take you out too," Greg added, "Might do you some good to start at least talking to women in the future."
"Feels like forever since I had to approach a woman," I said, chuckling to myself, "Has dating changed that much in the past ten years?"
"Dating apps," James said, "Though it's dependent on the app. Some are just for hooking up. Others are genuine dating apps."
