As the golden years of her life unfolded, Emily chose to wed a solitary retiree. Half an hour before the vows, a chime echoed through her home. She swung the door open, struck silent by what she saw…

“Why’d he turn out like that?” “We waited years for him, over a decade. My wife had treatments, and finally, Ryan was born. She spoiled him rotten, gave in to every whim. I tried raising him right, but she’d lose it. ‘He’s my son!’ I gave up. Let her do it. So he grew up like this.

Drove his mom to an early grave, heart attack. Married at nineteen, had a kid, left them. Didn’t work, didn’t pay child support. We helped his ex. He married again, another kid, left again. That kid’s got health issues, needs treatment. We supported them too.

His second wife lived with us for a bit, then her folks took her away, but we still sent money. Then he planned a third marriage, and my wife had a heart attack from the stress. I was done. Couldn’t live with him anymore. So we split.”

Emily studied the man. Refined features, neat gray hair, small mustache, and an open gaze. “What did you do for work?” she asked, sensing his educated air. “Worked as a factory supervisor till seventy, then they let me go. No hard feelings—time for the young folks. Us old-timers get park benches now.”

“You don’t look seventy-five. Sixty-five, tops. I won’t ask your age, but you seem plenty young. Let’s introduce ourselves.

I’m Robert Steven.” Emily flinched. “Robert?” “What’s wrong? Don’t want to share your name?” he asked kindly. “No, sorry, it’s just… my husband was Robert too. I’m Emily Diane, but you can call me Emily.” “Then call me Robert, if that’s okay.”

They began meeting daily on the path, strolling and talking about everything. Robert was fascinating, sharing tales of his travels. A month after meeting, he greeted Emily with a bouquet.

As she said hello, he spoke. “Emily, we’re both alone, not so young anymore. Who knows how long we’ve got to enjoy the sun and life?

The young have time; we don’t. I’m asking you to be my wife. No rush—think it over. Talk to your daughter if you need to.” He handed her red roses…