I shuffle through new recipe ideas scattered across my desk, but they fail to hold my attention. My creativity has been tapped out for a while. And now, my thoughts are relentlessly drawn back to Kerry. I replay her words, her plea, her frustration, her tears. She wasn’t just asking for a job; she was asking for a chance to rebuild her life, to find purpose again. And what did I do? In a moment, clouded by my fears, I denied her that opportunity. I let my fear of falling for someone dictate my decision.

I’ve spent the last five years mostly at home with my daughters, convincing myself I was all they needed, that they were all I needed. So, I worked from home, constantly locked away in my study, assuring myself that all was well because, although their mother was gone, I was still here. But I’m not. I’m physically present but distant in every way. And Kerry’s split-second existence in our lives tore down my five-year delusion, revealing a stark reality. I’m lonely, and so are my daughters. We’ve settled into a routine that mimics peace, managing our loss with a resigned calmness. But Kerry’s fleeting time with us illuminated the possibilities of a fuller, richer happiness—a realization that while we’ve learned to cope with our pain, there’s a whole spectrum of joy we’ve yet to explore.

Since last week, the house has felt colder, emptier. My hand constantly hovers over my phone. It should be so easy to call her, admit I made a mistake, say I’m sorry, and tell her we need her here. But fear and caution hold me back.

Every moment around Kerry causes my logic to slip and my desires to deepen, drawing me to her in a way that dangerously blurs the lines between employer and employee. This is why maintaining distance is crucial, yet it feels like an impossible feat. I crave her presence. And I can’t stop thinking about her, which is frightening because this is how I felt about the love of my life, my late wife. If these feelings are this strong now, they’ll only deepen if I continue on this path. I can’t allow myself to fall for this woman. Falling in love once brought me the greatest joy and the deepest pain I’ve ever known. I cannot, and I will not risk experiencing that level of loss again. I refuse to love only to face the devastation of losing it once more.

But I do know one thing for certain, my daughters won’t forgive me if I don’t hire Kerry Kind.

“Uncle Hud, please tell Daddy to call our new teacher and beg her to come back. She was the best teacher we ever had, and he was so mean to her!” Ari complains to my brother Hudson, the face of our family brand.