Broken (27 page)

“How didn't I know he was so sick?” I said, as much to myself as to Will. “He didn't look sick.”

“That's the thing, love, most people never find out they have the tumor.” He looked at me with sadness in his eyes. “Usually the family find out from the autopsy. If Annabel hadn't used him as a test case for an article she was writing…”

“He would've died without ever knowin',” I whispered.

Will sat quietly, his presence comforting. Turning, I looked at the man beside me who was so much like the man I loved, and yet so very different. While every individual feature was scarily identical, as a whole I found almost nothing about Will drawing me to him. Adam's eyes were full of warmth and a hint of mischief, whereas Will's were mischievous with just a touch of warmth.

The hand on my shoulder ran down my arm until it grasped my hand and squeezed. “It's funny. I feel like I know you so well. Even at his sickest, not a day went by that he wasn't thinking about you and talking about you.” Will looked down at our joined hands and quickly released his grip. “At first I would make him tell me stories about your time together. It seemed to be the only thing that would calm him and take his mind off the side effects of the chemo. Then over time I wanted to know more, because he'd found his soul mate, and it gave me hope that if he could find that inner peace that an absolute unconditional love can bring, then maybe I could too.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Sometimes he didn't want to talk at all; he'd just get this faraway look on his face and I knew he was thinking about you. Asked him about it once—said he was on your island, then pointed to his chest.” He chuckled. “I thought he'd gone barmy, but I figure you know what he was on about.”

I nodded as tears stung my eyes.

“He read your book, over and over, and when he was too sick to read, I read it to him.” He glanced over, summing me up as his eyes swept over my face. “You're not a bad writer. Some of the sex scenes were pretty hot.” Mischief flashed in his blue eyes. “He said they were based on real life, but there's no way he's that good. Still, I think the nurses enjoyed eavesdropping when I read them out loud.” Will chuckled as heat flared in my cheeks. “Every day he searched for new reviews, anything he could find to feed his need to feel close to you.”

“He didn't need to read 'bout me. All he had to do was pick up the phone and I would've been right there beside him.”

There was silence as we both sat there, lost in our own thoughts. The sick relative Adam had mentioned ten months ago was obviously himself. No wonder he had dreaded going back to England, knowing that he would have to endure life-threatening cancer treatment.

And he still wasn't out of the woods—each day could be his last.

Will's voice broke the silence. “He loves you, you know. That's the one thing in all this fucked up craziness that I'm sure of. After everything he's been through this last year, the anger and devastation of finding out he was dying, the pain from the surgery, the nausea from the chemo, all the hours of boredom lying in a hospital bed. All that pales in comparison to how he feels about you.”

“And how I feel 'bout him.” I turned to Will. “I love him too.”

He nodded, happy with that answer. “Then why are we sitting out here freezing our arses off?”

Adam was warming himself by the fire when we returned, his face drawn with worry.

“You all right?” Will asked.

Adam nodded, his eyes brimming with tears as he looked at me. “I understand that what I did was selfish and possibly unforgivable.” He diverted his gaze. “Are you going to leave, go back home?”

“I am home…and so are you.” With a sweeping motion, I indicated the room. “I bought this house for us. It was the one place filled with happy memories that I never wanted to leave. It was our island, our sanctuary.” Adam's tears spilled over. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was add to his misery. He had been through enough. Moving to his side, I reached out to take his hands.

The corner of his mouth tipped up, and I matched his smile.

“This is where I write. For some reason, I can always find the words when I'm here. I've written all my books”—I pointed to the dining table—“sittin' right there, and every one of them has a little piece of you in it from the time we spent together in this house.”

Adam brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles tenderly.

“Of course the next book will have to include how the main character is kept in the dark 'bout the love of her life havin' cancer and possibly dying!”

“I can't believe you bought this house.”

“How could I not? You're ingrained in every inch of the place. I've never been happier than when I was here, with you.”

Leading him back to the sofa, I cuddled into his side, wrapping my arms around him tightly. “I just wish you'd told me, Adam.”

Finally he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn't want your pity, Evie. I didn't want you to look at me with anything other than desire.”

Heaviness filled my chest as my heart went out to Adam. “You wouldn't have had my pity, just my love. All of my love. I could've been there to support you through it.” I shook my head. “But you didn't need me.”

“That's not true. I missed you every single day, and I wanted to see you every day. But as soon as people found out I had cancer, they stopped seeing me. All they could see was a walking disease.”

I cupped Adam's face in my hands, holding it inches from my own. “I see you, Adam. All I've ever seen is the man you are. The man I love.” As I brushed Adam's cheeks with my thumbs, he closed his eyes, tilting his head toward me.

Leaning in, I brought my lips to his, our first kiss in ten months. Adam's fingers ran through my hair, fisting it gently to hold me in place as our lips parted and noses lightly rubbed together.

“I've missed you, so much, Buttercup.”

“I've missed you too. I needed you, Adam. I needed to talk to you and see you…” I bit my lip. “I did break my promise. Well, I tried to.” I looked up at him through my lashes. “I tried to call you, just once, but your number was disconnected.”

He squeezed my hand. “I knew you would try.”

I nodded gently. “You have to understand how hard things have been and how much just hearing your voice would have meant to me.”

Adam frowned, having no knowledge of what I'd been through. “But you've been doing so well. I've read your book, followed you on social media. I've read all your reviews.” He scoffed. “There were a few one-star reviews from people who I'm pretty sure never even read it, but I've been keeping an eye on you from a distance. You seem to have been getting on with things.”

“Most people would call that stalking,” Will added, reminding me he was still in the room.

Glancing at him, I saw the familiar Walker smirk painted on his face.

“Don't believe everythin' you read on social media, Adam. I don't write 'bout my personal life—the things that really matter to me. I have someone I want you to meet.” I stood to leave the room and Adam went to stand. “It's fine. Stay there.”

A few minutes later I returned, a squirming bundle in my arms.

“Adam, I'd like you to meet Brody Adam Walker…your son.”

Adam's jaw dropped open as he trembled, his face turning even whiter than it already was.

“Are you okay?” I asked quickly, worried that the shock would make his heart give out.

“I have a son?” His hand went to his chest, and he looked at Brody in total disbelief. “He's…he's mine?” He dragged his gaze away from Brody to look at me. “How is this possible?”

Sinking to my knees in front of Adam, I pulled the wrap back from around Brody's face so Adam could see him clearly. “Yes, he's yours…He's our little miracle.” Tears spilled over my lashes, but it was nothing compared to the flood of tears streaming freely down Adam's cheeks.

“Can I…can I hold him?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “Can I hold my son?”

I placed Brody in his arms, then positioned myself on the sofa beside them. Adam leaned down, covering Brody's little head with butterfly kisses, his tears wetting Brody's brow.

“He's perfect,” he whispered, trying to brush away his tears. “Thank you, Evie. You have no idea how much being a father means to me—how much
you
mean to me.” Tentatively leaning over, he kissed me softly on the lips. “I never thought this would be possible, for you and me to have a family.” His eyes welled again and new tears fell. “Look at how tiny he is. How old is he?” Adam asked without shifting his gaze from Brody.

“Six and a half weeks.” I paused, looking down at my bloated belly. “That's why I'm still…”

“Still as beautiful as the day we met. Only now I'm even more blown away by how amazing you are.”

“Now can I say I really like this girl?” Will asked, coming over to meet his nephew. “He takes after me. He's a good-looking boy.”

Adam laughed. “He looks nothing like either of us.” He gazed adoringly into my eyes. “He looks just like his mum…beautiful.”

Adam and Will were both captivated by the little bundle of cuteness while Brody's eyes widened at the matching unfamiliar faces.

“Hey, sweetie. This is your daddy.” It wasn't until the words had tumbled from my mouth that I realized how I had longed to say them out loud.

All throughout the pregnancy, Angie had been by my side, an absolute godsend. She had held my hair during the first trimester of morning, noon, and night sickness, taken me shopping for nursery furniture, even attended prenatal classes with me, and had been there when Brody came into the world, his little scrunched up red face screaming bloody murder. She was Auntie Ang, and I was Mommy. Finally, Brody had his daddy and even an uncle Will.

“I wanted to tell ya, so much,” I said, watching as Brody grasped Adam's finger in his little hand. “This was the only time I picked up the phone to call you. I thought you had a right to know.” I hesitated. “And I may have searched for you some on the Internet, and every social media platform I could think of.” I shrugged. “It was like you'd disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“I'm so sorry I let you down, Evie. I should have been here.” Lifting Brody's hand to his lips, he delicately kissed his son's tiny fingers. “You've given me so much. A reason to fight, a love so deep I never thought possible, and a son. The child I wanted. I have a legacy now.” He shook his head. “I won't be forgotten.”

“You'll
never
be forgotten, Adam.”

There was a
snap
and
whir
. I looked up to see Will taking photos of Adam holding Brody with his phone.

“You know Mum is going to freak when she sees these.” Will looked at me. “She already thinks you're a saint.”

I thought it was a great idea. I'd been taking photos of Brody every time he did something cute, but to have pictures of him with his dad would be memories for all of us to treasure. It was also a way to track Adam's progress as his hair grew back and he gained a little more weight until he was back to his old self.

“Can I hold my nephew?” Will's arms reached out tentatively and Adam handed Brody over. He stirred, then started to grumble. “Oh, I think he wants his mum.”

I chuckled as Will quickly offloaded him back to me. “He wants his dinner.”

I hadn't been around men in the six and a half weeks since Brody had been born. In fact, the only person I'd spent any time with was Angie. I lifted my top and proceeded to unclip my maternity bra, before both Adam and Will cleared their throats loudly.

“Oh, crap!” Jerking my top back down, I pushed the embarrassment aside as my eyes lifted to Will, who was looking everywhere but at me.

“Maybe we could take our bags to the bedrooms and unpack, while you…” Will pointed over his shoulder to my boobs.

That was a great idea. Will would have to set up in Brody's room on the sofa bed, which meant we would have to bring Brody's bassinet into our room. But from the look of Adam's tired eyes, he would need plenty of rest, and having a newborn in your room wasn't conducive to getting a good night's sleep. Maybe Adam should have my bed and Brody and I could camp in the living room?

“I want to sleep with you,” Adam said softly, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “If you still want me. Brody can come into our room, can't he?”

“He gets up a couple of times a night, and you need to rest, Adam.”

“I want him with us.” Adam stroked Brody's cheek lightly with the back of one finger. “I can't take my eyes off him. He's such a perfect miniature person.”

I directed traffic while Will, with a little help from Adam, moved the bassinet into our room. I had bought an easel and paints for Adam as a surprise and set them up in his corner by the window, but they were soon pushed to one side to make space for an even more precious gift.

As Will unpacked in his room, I sat propped up on the bed and fed Brody, watching Adam as he put his clothes away. He was home, finally back and settling in with enough clothes that reassured me he wasn't going anywhere for a while.

“I believe this is yours,” he told me, holding up my buttercup-yellow sweater. “I'm returning it to you, safe and sound as promised.”

I smiled. “Look in the bottom drawer.”

Adam pulled open the drawer and chuckled as he lifted out his painting jeans.

“Check the front.”

Adam's rich laugh filled the room as he unfolded the jeans to find a circular hole cut in the front.

“'Cause I didn't know you'd be bringin' company. I thought you could wear 'em 'round the house a bit.”

He laughed again, holding them up in front of him to see that the hole was positioned perfectly.