Page 99 of The Widower
“I didn’t even realize I was inside.”
“That’s a good start.”
And it was—a small step, but a huge one for what I planned to try next.
COLIN ADAMS
Today, my work just flowed—more than on any other day.
When you do something you love, something different happens. Don’t ask me why; I can’t explain it, but I can feel it. Even though I’m a man unhappy in more ways than I can count—and practically forced by James to take on the design for his new mansion—I can honestly say I’m satisfied with the work I’m doing. It seems I haven’t “lost my touch.”
The door to my office cracked open, and I saw my son hesitating on the threshold, unsure if he should come in. I didn’t mind. In fact, I was happy—this was the second time he’d come looking for me.
“Dad!”
“What is it, son?”I asked, instantly attentive.
“I wanted to know if… you want to come watch a soccer game. I’m playing.”
It was the first time since the accident that my son had invited me to be part of something in his life.
It had been painfully clear that our bond had almost completely broken after that awful day.For months, I tried and failed to rebuild what we had.
I was the one at fault—I stopped chasing after the person I love most in this world. I’m still paying for those mistakes, but now there’s a flicker of hope. Isabelle and Hanna made me see what I’d been losing, and this time, I intend to get it right.
“We can bring Hanna if she wants,” he added quickly, probably thinking I was about to say no because I’d taken too long to answer.
“I’ll go,” I finally said.“When is it?”
“Uh… now.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” I stood up from my chair, not even sure why I was this excited. My son looked just as confused.
“Really? You’re actually coming?” His eyes lit up, disbelief written all over his face. I couldn’t blame him—he rarely asked me for anything, and I never offered.
“I am.”
“Can we call Hanna?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks, Dad!”
He ran out of my office, grinning from ear to ear—and that sight alone filled me with more joy than I’d felt in a long time.
Both kids were holding my hands as we walked down the sidewalk, and Norton, my security guard, followed a few steps behind.
I don’t usually ask them to follow me around like that, but after what happened at Isabelle’s house—and with Hanna being with me—it felt smarter to be safe than sorry. Isabelle had immediately agreed to let me take her, and the soccer field was only about eight blocks away.Pretty close, really.
“I’m gonna score one goal for everyone in the house.”
“Hm. I want you to score two for me,” Hanna said, her voice full of authority. “I came to watch you play.”
“Why two?”
“Just because.”
“Okay.”
