Page 125 of The Widower
“But I think he likes playing with me more,” she argued.
Nice try.
“Life isn’t all about playing, sweetheart. Grown-ups have to work—otherwise, they starve.”
That obviously wasn’t Colin’s case. He’d already made his name and could probably retire if he wanted to. I had a feeling that comment was meant more as a dig at me.
“I just wanna play,” she pouted.
“Good luck with that.”
Hanna went quiet for a few seconds. I thought she was about to change the subject, but then she spoke again.
“I wish Uncle Colin was my dad.”
My eyes widened at her words. I knew they’d become close friends, but hearing that out loud… that crossed a line.
And then, to make matters worse, I froze when I noticed Colin leaning against the counter in the kitchen.
“You heard what Hanna just said?” I asked quickly, a hint of panic in my voice.
He looked at me for a few seconds before replying, “No.I just heard my name.”
“Can I play in the backyard?” Hanna asked.
“Sure.”
Colin beat me to it, answering her right away.
She bolted toward the yard, leaving me standing there, still staring into his dark eyes, wondering if he’d really missed what she said.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. I thought you’d heard something.”
Colin’s expression didn’t change.
“Do you need something?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.
“No. I just came to grab something to eat. I won’t interrupt your work.”
He walked over to the fruit basket, picked up a banana and an apple, then left without another word, disappearing from sight.
COLIN ADAMS
In my room, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Hanna had said a few moments earlier.
Yeah, I heard her when she said she wished I were her dad, and I wasn’t sure lying to Isabelle—pretending I hadn’t heard anything—was the right thing to do.
I’m not the kind of man who tries to fix most of his supposed mistakes, but that didn’t change the fact that our last conversation had left me uneasy. Isabelle deserved to know more about me, especially now that I’d become so close to her and her family.
So I went with my gut and went looking for her.
She was still in the kitchen, and when she saw me, she turned away, giving me her back.
Her face was slightly puffy—something I noticed in the split second she turned around. She was clearly upset, and when I rested a hand on her back, she didn’t react at all.
“What’s going on?”
