My husband, John, and I were good friends with our neighbor.

In reality, though, Chuck and I seemed to be more than that; we’d been flirting since we’d met, but it was all in good fun — or so I’d thought.

This past season, John volunteered to coach the girls’ soccer team for the Saturday morning slot. Chuck would come by and pick up my daughter, dropping off mine and his at the park because John had to get there much earlier than the players. One of those mornings Chuck and I both stood at the door yawning. I offered him some coffee but then realized it was still brewing and apologized.

“That’s okay,” he assured me. “I’ll grab some out after I drop them off.”

“It’s only a ten-minute round trip. By the time you get back,... Read More