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What bastard dumps a woman because she has breast cancer? When Bryn is widowed fifteen years later, he meets Megan again and sparks fly. Loved for who she is, Megan comes out of her shell, and the family enjoy the relationship. More
What bastard dumps a woman because she has breast cancer? When Bryn is widowed fifteen years later, he meets Megan again and sparks fly. Loved for who she is, Megan comes out of her shell, and the family enjoy the relationship.
The dark-haired brunette seemed to want to chat in her lilting welsh accent. She was friendly and outgoing, and confided in me that the puppy was to try to help take her daughters’ (five and three years old) minds off the fact that their father had left them all. Again inanity struck, and I muttered something like. “I am sorry.”
She was puppy walking for Guide Dogs for the Blind, as she wasn’t sure she wanted to take on a dog. She went on to say that she had just had a cancer operation and had a breast removed. He felt she was not a complete woman any more and not the woman he married.
“He’s a bastard.” I blurted out.
She looked slightly shocked.
I blushed and stammered, “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to say that. I’m so sorry he left you, and I think he is the loser, as you are a lovely person.”
“Thank you,” she responded.
We continued our walks, and I saw her a few times after that day until my job changed and I didn’t walk at that time any more. I still occasionally thought of her, and the damage that one person can do to another.
Fifteen years later, I had just been widowed. Walking the dog was balm to my soul and a time to think. And I ran into her again. This time she had her own dog, and the conversation began with that. After a bit, she mentioned that I seemed upset. I told her what had happened.
“Listen, you did me so much good when my husband left me. Calling him a bastard really shocked me, but then I realised that he was and it helped so much. And you said a really nice thing that I never forgot, that I was lovely. I thought about that remark a lot in the bad times. Thank you. Now, will you come to supper and join in with the family? Both girls are home.”
I was grateful to take my mind off brooding at home on my own, so I turned up with a bottle of wine and a bottle of coke for the girls. I realised my mistake when the door opened, as did my mouth when I saw this tall athletic red-head in a tight t-shirt and shorts. We established I was at the right house, and I realised that five plus fifteen was twenty, and her name was Steph. The now eighteen year old daughter was a petite blond, equally jaw dropping, and called Claire.
When their mum walked in, I realised that I had over-dressed in slacks and a short sleeved shirt. Dressed like her daughters in a t-shirt and shorts, she looked stunning. A more voluptuous mature figure with a neat cleavage, slightly rounded stomach and long toned legs, like Steph only with more curves to them.