Page 151 of The Widower
That one simple question was all it took for me to break down like a child. Everything I’d been holding in came crashing down at once. I sat in one of the chairs, completely drained. My mind was spinning, my body felt weak.
“I... I’m not okay. These last few months... they’ve been hard,” I said between sobs.
“Come here.”
Colin pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly while I cried against his chest. I became a prisoner of my own thoughts, my mind flooded with memories and exhaustion. I really wasn’t okay.
“I think it’s time,” he said softly.
“Time for what?”
“To take care of you. To give back what you’ve done for me.” He brushed away my tears. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Honestly, I wouldn’t have even tried if you hadn’t pushed me so damn hard. Even when I yelled at you, told you to leave—you stayed. No one’s ever done that for me. Deep down, you’re the one who brought me back, Isabelle. And that’s why I can finally say something I’ve known for a long time but don’t say enough: I love you. Not a little. A lot. So much it actually hurts. And yeah, sometimes I hate you too, but I know that’ll fade. I can’t forget Henry either—he was a pain in my ass during recovery.”
I smiled like an idiot. Trust Colin to sneak in a jab even in the middle of a love confession.
“Loving me means what exactly to you?”
“Everything.” He didn’t even hesitate. “I want you for myself, and I’m not giving that up. I’ll be the father Hanna never had, if you’ll let me, because I love your daughter as if she were mine. And before you think I’m trying to fill a void, don’t. I’m not comparing her to Maddison. My daughter’s gone, but she’ll always have a place in my heart.”
“Colin…”
“You’ve given me more than enough reasons to love you. And Hanna—with that little way she has of catching me off guard—she did the same, maybe even faster than you. I don’t know why, but what I do know is that I see you two as my family.”
I kissed him, hard.
The truth is, we almost fell off the chair because of how desperately I threw myself at him. I’d needed to hear something like that from someone I cared about—and Colin had picked the perfect moment to say it.
“I’m sorry for being such a grump,” he said, frowning.
“It wasn’t easy. Especially considering I’m young and you’re basically an old man. I’m not used to dealing with elderly tantrums,” I teased.
“Old man?” he hissed. “So thirty-five counts as old now?”
“Maybe…”
“I prefer experienced.”
The last few minutes in the kitchen were some of the best I’d had in that mansion. We talked about everything, and for the first time, I could truly see that Colin had changed.
Or maybe… he’d just gone back to being the man he used to be before the accident.
COLIN ADAMS
The last few months were hell.
I lost count of how many times I thought about giving up—just walking away from it all and letting go of any hope of ever living a normal life again.
Before I was tortured, I hated God. Deeply.
In my mind, He was laughing at me—laughing while I struggled to move even the smallest part of my body. But later, I realized how meaningless my complaints were. I blamed God for everything, when the truth was, the only person who put me in that position was me.
The first two months were awful. I cursed my body, cursed myself, questioned the promise I’d made to God every single day. I also questioned why I’d become such a bitter man—bitter enough to lose part of my family. But after a while, things started to make sense.
I had no right to question anyone. I’d had free will all along, and like Jennifer, I’d made far too many mistakes in my life. I’d carried resentment, anger, anguish—so many ugly feelings inside me—and over time, they’d only eaten me alive.
The following months were about acceptance, but also about perseverance.
And as strange as it sounds, I started talking to God. In my own way, of course.
