I can’t believe no one told me this could happen.

Out of all the books I read and the counselor I saw for a year after the accident and the support group for young widowers I try to get to every once in a while, even though finding a sitter for Chloe is a challenge—not one of the voices I’ve heard talk about love and loss, grief and moving on, ever mentioned there might come a day when I would be grateful for what losing Maryanne did to me.

Don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t wish that kind of hell on anyone. Because it was hell. Pure and simple, straight up, without anything to cut the pain.

But the thing about going through hell is that it makes heaven even more precious once you find your way back to it again.

I loved Maryanne with everything in me, but I was also a twenty-five-year-old dumbass when we met, pre-occupied with my career and my five-year plan and leaving my mark on the world and other shallow shit that doesn’t mean much compared to family. I knew she was special, and that I never wanted to be with anyone else, but it wasn’t until she was gone that I realized the thousand little ways she filled my life with happiness.

Her hand in mine while we walked down the street to grab brunch on Sunday mornings, her voice singing off-key in the shower, and the little notes she left in my bag for me to find when I checked my gear before a game. The way she smiled when I came home early and she and Chloe were waking up from a nap on the couch—all the little things I took for granted became an unfillable void after she was gone.

Loving her was a song I hadn’t realized was playing in the background until it was abruptly silenced, and the quiet left behind crushed me with an intolerable weight.

I am a different man than I was before.

I’ve known that for years, but it’s only in the past month that I’ve realized I’m not broken or damaged beyond repair. That I may, in fact, be a better person, a better lover, partner, and friend, than I was capable of being before.

This time, I heard the music the moment it started to play, and I’m so fucking grateful for it, even when I’m far away from the woman who’s shown me that love can be even better the second time around. Because I’m better. Grief broke me down to my most basic, useful, true pieces and rebuilt me as a man who is grateful, humble, and wiser than I was before.

There are times now, when I’m doing some simple everyday thing like sitting down to dinner at a restaurant with Laura and Chloe—just a hole in the wall burger joint on a Tuesday night—and I’m flooded with a rush of emotion. It’s so intense it’s like I’m flying over the Rocky Mountains for the first time, seeing that untouched wilderness, so glorious and vast that even an atheist like me is convinced for a moment that God must exist.

Some sort of God. In some form…

How else do you explain the beauty of it all?

And in those moments, when Chloe’s coloring the kid’s menu while she tells a story about a blood-sucking fish she’s been reading about, and Laura is smiling at my daughter in between making “I’m about to be sick” faces because Chloe has a gift for the gruesome, I want to fall to my knees and give thanks. Because my girls are every bit as stunning as the Rocky Mountains and the coastline at sunrise and every work of art hanging in every museum in every corner of the world.

And I’m the lucky man who gets to love them.

No matter how hard things have been, most of the time these days I feel like the luckiest bastard in the world. I can’t imagine life getting any better, except for maybe one thing…

I’m thinking about that one thing a lot on the flight back to Portland, while Justin gives me shit about being his Secret Santa—“I know it’s you, man. I have a Spidey-sense when it comes to these things. So tell me what you got me. Is it a pony? I’ve really been wanting a pony. Or a hedgehog. For real, on the hedgehog. They’re so fucking cute. Did you get me a hedgehog, Brendan? Please say you got me a hedgehog.”—and in the train on the way to Laura’s parents’ place.

“Have you and Libby talked about moving in together?” I ask Justin, who looks as relieved to be home—and back in the same city as his girl—as I feel.

“Yeah, but Libs likes to take things slower than I do.” He shrugs before adding, “And I’m sure the fact that I don’t have the best track record when it comes to live-in relationships has something to do with it. Sometimes dating someone who knows me as well as Libby does has its downside. I’ve told her a dozen times that she’s different, that we’re different, but it’s only been a couple months so…”

I grunt. Laura and I have only been together a month, and we’re already making move-in plans. It doesn’t feel too soon to me, but Justin’s remark makes me wonder what Libby—or Mimi and Rick, Libby and Laura’s parents—are going to think about our January third co-habitation date.

“But you’re in a different situation, man,” Justin says. “You’ve got a track record. And Laura isn’t nearly as impulsive as she seems at first, which I’m sure you’ve figured out by now. If you guys are both ready to take the next step, you should go for it. Though, of course, I have to repeat my warning that if you break her heart, team captain or not, I’ll be obliged to break your face.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” I smile. “You’re a good friend.”

Justin snorts and clears his throat as he hunches lower in his seat. “Damn straight, I am. Wake me up when we get there. I’m going to sleep so the trip goes faster. The last twenty minutes before I get to see Libby are the worst. I have no fucking patience for waiting at this point, you know?”

I do know. And when we finally step off the train to find Libby waiting by her mother’s SUV in a red coat and a rainbow-striped scarf long enough to wrap around her neck twice and still trail nearly to the ground, I don’t blame Justin for leaving me behind as he sprints across the parking lot to scoop Libby up in his arms.

I would be doing the same thing if Laura were here.

“Laura stayed behind to help Chloe wrap presents,” Libby explains as I reach the SUV and lean down for a hug. “They got a late start this morning and were stuck in traffic for an hour, so they needed extra time to get ready for Secret Santa. How was the trip home? Smooth flight?”

Justin and I assure her that the flight was fine—long, but fine—and load our bags into the back. On the way to the Collins’ house, Justin and Libby keep up a steady stream of chatter, but I join in only when asked a direct question.

I’m so past ready to see Laura that I’m beyond small talk.

At the house, I jump out of the SUV before Libby shuts off the engine and am halfway to the front door—fuck my bag, I’ll get it later—when it opens and Chloe rushes out.

“Daddy, you’re back! I missed you!” She runs down the steps, jumping into my arms.

“I missed you, too.” I hug her tight, smiling over her shoulder at the sexy redhead coming down the steps. “And I missed you, beautiful.”

“Missed you, too.” Laura moves closer, I reach for her with my free hand, and a second later I’ve got everything I’ll ever need in my arms.

And it feels so right, so complete and good and true that I decide it’s not too soon or too much. I’ve picked exactly the perfect gift for this woman who’s made me the happiest person I’ve been in years, and I’m going to give it to her tonight.