Page 19 of Holiday Grief

“There’s no such thing as monsters,” Jasmine said automatically even as her brain refuted the statement. There were monsters, she knew, she’d spent two years trapped with one. They might not be big and hairy, but they existed.

“He’s prolly in Daddy’s room,” Claire said, squiggling to get down.

Lifting the little girl down, together they ran up the stairs and down to the master bedroom. Jasmine hadn't been in it before. Usually, when she came over, they stayed downstairs or out in the backyard. She’d been in Claire’s room plenty of times and used the upstairs bathroom, but she’d never seen Adam’s room.

When she entered it, she couldn’t help but smile. It was totally him. His style was minimalist, with only the furniture you absolutely needed, no knickknacks and pretty much nothing on the walls, which were all painted crisp white, setting off the dark wooden floorboards. His bedroom was no exception. There was the bed with a masculine wood frame and two nightstands, and that was it. She could see an open door led to a walk-in closet, and she knew there was a master bath so that must be through the closet.

The only exception to the bare walls were two framed photos on the wall opposite the bed. One was of a newborn Claire, the other was from Adam’s wedding.

While Claire scrambled across the neatly made bed in search of her stuffed giraffe, Jasmine walked toward the picture in stunned silence.

Adam had talked a lot about his wife. He hadn't hidden that while he had loved Meredith with his whole heart and would have spent the rest of his life with her, she was gone and he was still alive. It had taken time, but she’d been gone for almost five years now and he was ready to find love again.

He’d talked about what she was like and Claire’s personality quirks that reminded him of her mother, but he had never shown her a picture of Meredith.

Now she knew why.

Looking at the picture was like looking into a mirror.

She might as well have been Meredith’s twin sister.

* * * * *

December 4th

8:17 P.M.

Home.

Was there a better word in the English language?

In any language?

Adam didn't think that there was.

It encompassed everything that made life worth living. Family, safety, peace, it was all wrapped up in that one little word.

As he climbed out of his car and saw Jasmine’s sitting in his driveway, he couldn’t not smile. He liked seeing her car here, liked knowing she was inside with his daughter. Hopefully, this is what their future was going to look like.

Maybe it was still too soon to be thinking that far ahead given Jasmine’s assault last year, and whatever in her past had her hiding away, but he couldn’t not think of it.

This was what he wanted, the three of them together.

That good mood evaporated as soon as he stepped through the door. Jasmine was waiting for him, only it wasn’t a kiss or even a hello that awaited him as a greeting. The first words out of her mouth about stopped his heart.

“We need to break up,” Jasmine blurted out.

Shock rendered him speechless.

How had a simple couple of hours babysitting led to her wanting to end their relationship?

The fact that she was standing there, anxiously swaying from foot to foot, twisting her hands together tightly enough that her knuckles were white only added to his shock. What could have happened to put her on edge?

“Did Claire do something?” His daughter was a sweet and sassy little girl. She loved people, made friends easily, had the occasional tantrum, but mostly was good-natured and even-tempered. Still, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she had said or done something that had upset Jasmine.

Still wanting to break up seemed extreme.

Jasmine might have her issues, but she wasn’t a drama queen. She was genuinely battling trauma yet still got up each day, ran her business, was always friendly and kind to Claire, and little by little let him in.

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