The Widower (18+) | [Complete]

Twenty-Two

The twins held my shoulders as I glided through the water. Yet another problem on my list to remedy: the twins didn't know how to swim. Not well, at least.

At the pool deck, the sun was bright and the heat oppressive as it bounced against the white concrete and tile. The perfect combination for a horrendous hangover. I enjoyed the thought of Augustine's head killing him while his blue balls ached.

He lounged in a poolside chair, the sunscreen making his skin glisten in the sun. As I swam in his direction, I couldn't decipher his mood beneath the dark lenses of his aviators. I knew he was probably mad. Frustrated at least. His towel was conveniently draped over his lap and those short swim trunks. Europeans, I thought to myself.

"Again!" Tabitha yelled.

I pulled my eyes from Augustine and smiled at her over my shoulder. "Okay, keep kicking! We're gonna go fast!" They wriggled their legs, splashing without knowing my feet were against the wall.

I pushed off and smiled when they both squealed with delight.

Matthew sat at the edge of the pool with his feet in the water. He hadn't set his phone down since his father joined us. I couldn't blame him for being bored. Much like the mansion, we had been locked away and entertained with gilded luxuries in lieu of quality time.

"I think it's time to take a break and reapply some sunscreen," I told the twins. They let go of my shoulders and held onto the edge next to their brother. "Can you help get them out?" I asked Matthew. Surprisingly, he set his phone down without rolling his eyes and pulled the twins from the water one at a time. He seemed closer to them, more caring than he usually was at home. For a moment, I wondered if the trip had been good for them after all.

I pulled myself up and climbed out, pretending not to notice Matthew watching while I stood and resituated my bottoms. Ahead of me, Augustine's glasses were still firmly in place. His lips and their natural pout gave me nothing as well. Nothing but a memory of having them against mine.

My hair hung wet against my neck. I brushed it up to gather it with the rest of my ponytail, looking back to keep Matthew from staring at my ass. He turned away quickly and pushed himself into the water.

At the lounge chair next to Augustine's, I dried myself and the twins with the towel, sighing with exasperation at the state of Tabitha's hair. Once they were dry, I set them onto the chair and pulled Tabitha closer. "Come here, wiggle worm. We need to fix your braids."

I pulled the twisted band from her tangles and started to comb my fingers through them delicately. Sebastian hopped from the lounge and bounced over to Augustine's. He laid next to him, mimicking his pose, arms behind his head, one knee raised. Augustine ran his hand over his hair in acknowledgment but never managed a smile.

"You're still upset, I see," I said to him in French, knowing Tabitha hadn't progressed enough to understand.

"Oui," he answered shortly.

"Will that keep us from exploring the city today?" I continued in our code. He didn't answer. "Have you at least considered our plans for when we return? Will you be taking my suggestion about staying at the loft?"

He hummed his disagreement. "At the loft, there would be less time for us to be alone. More chances to get caught. I assume that was also part of your plan."

"No," I assured him, knowing he wouldn't believe me. "We discussed how it would be good for all of you. Besides, being in the city gives the kids more opportunities. Music lessons for your prodigy, a summer ballet intensive for your tiny dancer. Independence for your oldest—"