Page 117 of Jameson Fox

I smile at him. “I’d like that.”

His phone rings and he curses when he looks at the screen. “I have to take this,” he says before putting it to his ear and striding to the long dining table where he deposits the laptop he’s carrying and sits to take the call.

I haven’t had a chance to check in on work today. More to the point, I haven’t wanted to. This is unusual for me. Kimberly would have called if anything urgent came up, so I took the opportunity to relax on the flight here. I slept for a couple of hours and then read for a little while. Mostly, I thought about my father and how everything I’ve always thought about my family and my place in it is not true. Toward the end of the flight, I pulled out my crossword book and, with Jameson’s help, completed a crossword. He seems to enjoy helping me solve puzzles.

I check my phone now while he’s on his call and find an email from Vanessa. I haven’t heard from her while she’s been away from work with her mom and am surprised to receive this email. It’s Christmas Day after all.

My thoughts all slow down while I read the email. She’s forwarded information regarding a drop in share price for Jameson’s company this week. She also included links to various news articles that sell the narrative that Jameson should be scrutinized due to his marriage to me, because although I was transparent about what I discovered in my company, sentiment is that I was well aware of the factories I was using and only came clean because I had to. The narrative is that Jameson is as dishonest as me and should not be trusted.

I text Vanessa while trying to stop the ill feeling these stories have caused. I’ve been so focused on my own company that I haven’t had a chance to keep up with much else, so I’ve missed this news.

Adeline: Thank you for sending me that information. How are you and your mom?

Vanessa: I’m good. Mom’s doing okay. And I figured that you might not have seen those stories since you’ve been busy this week and I’m not there to give you the updates I normally do.

Adeline: I hadn’t seen them, so I appreciate you forwarding them.

Vanessa: I’ll see you in a few days. I hope you’re okay.

Adeline: Don’t worry about me. Just focus on your mom.

“I’m ready when you are,” Jameson says, coming back to me after finishing his call.

We leave the suite and go down to the car to head to the cemetery. I push all the thoughts swirling in my brain about Jameson’s company to the side so I can focus on the reason we’re here.

My dad.

He’s buried in a cemetery about twenty minutes from the Strip. The only things I know about him from my mother are that he would have turned fifty-five this year; he had no family that she knew of; he grew up in Vegas, so she buried him here; and that he was a singer-songwriter, but none of his music was ever recorded.

“What are you thinking?” Jameson asks as I stare out the window during the trip to the cemetery.

I turn to him. “That I want Gabriel to find out everything he can about my father.”

“He’s already working on it.”

I guessed that already but wanted to make sure. “Thank you.”

“Have you heard from Sabrina today?”

“No, and I hope I don’t.” I don’t tell him the words on the tip of my tongue because they feel so very wrong to even think, let alone say.

I think I’m done with my family.

But who does that?

Who walks away from the people who birthed them, raised them, grew up with them?

It doesn’t feel right, however all I keep coming back to is that I don’t feel loved by them, so why would I stay? Being blood-related shouldn’t mean a person has to accept being treated badly or not being loved how they should be.

We arrive at the cemetery and Jameson puts his hand to the small of my back as we search for my father’s grave. It doesn’t take long to locate, and I find myself slowing down as we approach.

Jameson’s hand splays across my back as he senses me slowing, and his eyes come to mine. “Do you want to do this by yourself?”

“No.”

I look at the grave, taking in the weeds surrounding it. My heart hurts looking at those weeds and I make a silent promise that my father will never know another day of not being cared for.

I glance back at Jameson. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

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