The Widower (18+) | [Complete]

Thirty

"I can't thank you enough for this," I said to Crystal. She had come out a day early to save me. Her kids and current boyfriend would be joining us tomorrow night when the kids were all together and I felt safe enough to leave Augustine alone. I didn't deserve her. "I swear I will be a better friend after this."

"A better friend? Please," she tutted. "You're my family. You know that." She pulled me into a hug and I fought my urge to cry. "Do what you need to do. I'll be here when you're done."

"Love you," I said into her shoulder.

"Love you too."

I pried myself from her with reluctance. "Are you excited about your sleepover?" I asked the twins. Tabby, of course, looked thrilled. The promise of pizza and unlimited candy was enough to distract her from almost anything. Shy Bastian lacked her same enthusiasm. Squatting down, I looked him in the eyes. "Crystal is my sister. She's just like me but is much more likely to give you candy and let you stay up late," I told him.

"Sister?" Tabby cut in. "You don't look alike."

She was right. Me, stick-like and ambiguously brown, Crystal gorgeous and curvaceous, yet pale as a rose. Though it wasn't my choice, "family" stopped being blood and started being something much more important. "Well, that's because she's not my twin, silly," I teased her. Bastian gripped my hand and didn't seem to want to let go. "It will be okay, sweetheart," I whispered to him. "Just a few hours of fun then we will be together again. Sound good?"

He gave me a little grin. "Yeah."

I smiled. "Have so much fun, little ones." They kissed me goodbye.

I waved to Crystal and watched them leave. They would only be two buildings away but I wished I could keep them close. Augustine needed me a bit more than they did right now.

Once they had disappeared from view, I took the elevator back to the loft, taking deep breaths to calm myself and realign myself to my goal. I couldn't pay Crystal back for everything she did for me growing up, but I could pay it forward. 

Inside the loft, I found Augustine hadn't moved from the couch. He sat slouched with his head leaned onto the back of it. Lounged in the sun, the emerald green of the velvet cushions framed his black and white clothes in a dark luster. His languid posture gave him the melancholy air of a romantic era painting. He was impossibly handsome despite it all.

I came around and sat next to him. He gave me a failed attempt at a smile. "The kids are with Crystal now. She said she would take them until tomorrow morning or afternoon—whenever you're ready—and Matthew will be back tomorrow night."

"Thank you, love."

"Of course." He continued to stare ahead at nothing. "How are you feeling?" I asked him.

"Lost," he admitted. "To know my firstborn thinks me a murderer, my daughter feels the need to put herself in danger to test my utter adoration for her, and my son can't remember her at all . . . What am I to think?" he asked before looking me in the eyes. "What am I to do?"

I sighed and crossed my fingers in my lap. "You have to talk to them. Talk about her, as often as possible," I stated. I watched his gaze drop from mine. "Tell Tabitha how much you care, even when you think you've shown her. Tell Sebastian the stories you've told me. Show him pictures of her rather than hiding them away. And . . ." My sentence trailed off with my hesitance. "As uncomfortable or painful it may be, you have to tell Matthew what happened. He can either get the truth from you or he can continue to hate you over the version he made for himself."

He nodded his head. "So, what you've told me to do from the very beginning, Ms. Nielson?"

I smirked. "Pretty much, Mr. Montgomery."