“And if she starts dating someone else?” Logan asked, his tone sympathetic but relentless.
Bert’s hands clenched on the arms of his chair, but he kept his voice steady even as the thought made his stomach churn. “Then I’ll be her friend. I want her to be happy. I’d like it to be me that makes her so, but if not, it’ll hurt like hell, but I’d never do anything to jeopardize her happiness or make her uncomfortable.”
The office was quiet for a moment, just the hum of the ventilation system and the distant sound of activity from the operations center. Logan exchanged glances with Sisco and Landon, some unspoken communication passing between the three men who had all recently found their own relationships.
“My thoughts?” Logan said finally, his voice carrying the weight of both friendship and experience. “Tell her first. Before you buy the house. Be honest with her about why you want to live across the street.”
“That’s a risk,” Bert said, his throat tight.
“Everything worth having is a risk,” Logan replied. “When I met Viv, I tried to keep my distance. Told myself all the reasons it wouldn’t work, why I should focus on the job and not complicate things. But hiding how I felt didn’t protect me. It just made me miserable. And it wasn’t fair to her, not giving her the chance to make her own choice about what she wanted.”
“He’s right,” Sisco added. “Lenore and I almost missed our chance because I was too chicken to tell her how I felt. Don’t make the same mistake.”
“I’m not saying you have to confess your undying love,” Landon clarified. “But you should tell her you’re thinking of buying the house and ask how she feels about having you as a neighbor. Give her the chance to be part of the decision instead of just presenting it as a done deal.”
Bert absorbed that, turning it over in his mind. “You think I should tell her about the house but not necessarily about the feelings?”
“Tell her as much as you’re comfortable with,” Logan said. “But at minimum, she deserves to know that you’re considering moving across the street and to have input on whether that’s something she’d be okay with. Mary’s not fragile. She’s strong enough to handle an honest conversation. Give her the credit of letting her make her own decision about whether she wants you that close.”
“And who knows,” Sisco said, his usual grin returning. “Maybe she’ll be thrilled. Maybe she’s been hoping you’d make a move, and this is your opening.”
“Or maybe she’ll think it’s weird and intrusive,” Bert countered.
“Only one way to find out,” Landon said. “Talk to her.”
Bert sat with that for a moment, feeling the weight of the decision settling over him. These were his friends, men whose judgment he trusted, and they were all saying the same thing. Be honest. Take the risk. Give Mary the information and let her decide.
“When are you planning to talk to her?” Logan asked.
Bert checked his watch. The workday was winding down. His heart started pounding at the thought of actually doing this, of putting himself out there even in this limited way. “Tonight, I guess. I usually stop by her place a couple of times a week anyway. She’ll think it’s just a normal visit.”
“Good luck,” Sisco said, his expression sincere. “And for what it’s worth, I think she cares about you too. I see the way she looks at you when you’re not paying attention.”
Bert stood, feeling simultaneously more anxious and more certain. “Thanks, all of you. I appreciate the advice.”
“That’s what friends do,” Logan said, echoing the words he’d said to Bert months ago. “Now go talk to her before you lose your nerve. And Bert? Whatever she says, you’ve got our support.”
A little later, Bert’s drive to Mary’s house felt both too long and too short. He had made this trip dozens of times since she’d moved in, but tonight was different. Tonight, he was going to be honest about something that mattered, and that changed everything.
Her van was in the driveway, and lights glowed warmly from inside the house. He pulled up across the street, parking in front of the house that had started this whole chain of thought. He looked at it for a moment, trying to imagine himself living there, seeing Mary every day, being close enough to help if she needed it but respectful of her space.
Then he crossed the street and knocked on her door, his heart pounding hard enough that he could feel it in his throat.
She answered quickly, her face lighting up when she saw him. “Hey! Come on in.”
“Actually,” Bert said, his mouth dry, “I was hoping we could sit on the front porch for a bit. It’s a nice evening.”
Mary looked surprised but pleased. “Sure. Let me grab a sweater. The evenings are starting to get cool.”
A few minutes later, they were settled on the front porch. Mary had positioned her wheelchair near the railing, where she could look out at the street and the mountains beyond. Bert sat in one of the comfortable chairs she’d bought for the porch, close enough to talk easily but far enough to give her space to maneuver around if she needed.
The evening was beautiful, the air warm but with a hint of the autumn that would arrive soon. The sky was deepening to purple, and the first stars were appearing overhead. Across the street, the newly placed For Sale sign on the property seemed to glow slightly in the fading light.
“So,” Mary said, her tone warm and curious, “what’s on your mind? You have that look you get when you’re working through something complicated.”
Bert had rehearsed this conversation in his head during the entire drive over, but now that the moment was here, all his carefully prepared words felt inadequate. He took a breath and decided to just be direct. “The house across the street is on the market,” he said, gesturing to the property.
She followed his gesture, then looked back at him with mild interest. “I noticed the sign went up a few days ago. I’m glad. It’s been empty since I moved in here.”