The Widower (18+) | [Complete]

Thirty-Two

With the twins back, everything felt undeniable. I sat with them in their room far past when they fell asleep, hesitant of the adult responsibilities I would face when I walked out.

After another moment, I left them in their comfort to return to the kitchen. Augustine stood in his position leaned back against the kitchen counter. The harsh white of the undercabinet lights framed his perfect body. The similar light from his phone's screen illuminated the handsome lines of his face. His thumbs were in full force. Two days of missed work had caught up to him, or so he said. There was no doubt in my mind that he was hiding behind his comfortable shield.

Two glasses of wine stood beside him. He didn't look at me as I approached but his hand still managed to find my waist to pull me close to him. He pulled his eyes from his screen just long enough to kiss me. When our lips separated, he looked down at me with a little grin and returned his gaze to his phone. His arm snaked around me, his hand settling on my hip to remind me I was still part of his focus.

His touch comforted me but it wasn't enough to ease my guilt. It had been hours and Matthew still hadn't come out. I grabbed my glass from the counter and stared at its ruby color. "I'm worried about Matthew," I said.

"Don't be. He'll come out when he's hungry."

"It's been over twelve hours. I should bring him something."

Augustine glanced at me with a look of annoyance. "No. You shouldn't."

"You really plan to starve him out?" A hum was his only response. "You do realize he's your child, right?"

"Your point?"

"He will go on a hunger strike if that's what it takes to prove you wrong."

He smirked. A chuckle rumbled from his chest. "That's what you think of me?"

"Please. He is ninety-percent you, ten-percent Lara." It felt odd to say her name so casually. I stared at his profile, watching his eyes flicker over his screen as he read. He didn't seem bothered. That was a relief. "You don't have to tell him exactly what happened, but you need to tell him what she had."

He shifted his weight with a heavy sigh. There's the discomfort. He let me go and picked up his glass. It was obvious he had no intention of responding.

"Augustine . . ." I didn't want to say it but I knew I had no choice. "He's either having sex or he will be soon. He needs to know he's a carrier and that he needs to plan to—"

"I understand," he cut me off. "If he comes out—when he comes out—I will talk to him." He finished his glass and set it back on the counter.

"Don't tell me you're leaving."

"I have a call." As always. He pulled me close and caught my lips with his. "You can punish me for it later."

. . .

I gave it another hour and another glass of wine, but still nothing. My mind filled the silence with unwanted thoughts until they became too loud to bear. I got up with a huff and went down the hall.

I tapped on the door. "Matthew?" He didn't answer. "Honey, you need to eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"Yes, you are. Your father is busy. Come out and let me make you something."

After a stretch of silence, the sound of the lock lifted my hopes. He stood in the doorway but didn't leave the safety of his room. Though he refused to look my way, I could still see his eyes were red and puffy. He wiped the back of his hand over one.