“Jayson, what the hell? You punched Ryder.” I know that’s a dumb thing to accuse him of since I just punched him myself.
Jayson is eating a bowl of cereal, shirtless, and in loose cotton sweatpants. His hair is wet and slicked back. He looks up at me like I didn’t just accost him in his kitchen. “Good morning, princess.”
I grit my teeth. “You promised,” I remind him.
“That I did. I won’t break that promise, Liz. But you knew full well last night would happen eventually. Now it’s over and done, so no need for you to worry anymore.”
In a weird sort of way, I get it. Jayson did it for me. I won’t have to wait around, worrying anymore. It’s a screwed-up round-about logic, but I do get it.
He stands and places the cereal bowl in the sink, and I get distracted by the tattoo on his chest. The similarity to Ryder’s tattoo is unmistakable. I see my name in bright red carved into the trunk of a tree, stars hanging from its branches. It’s the tree from my dream. The anger I felt moments ago ebbs away and I sigh.
“Well, okay then.”
Jayson laughs. The sound does something to me, like a feeling of childhood trying to resurface. “Sorry to ruin your moment. You look gorgeous when you’re angry. I may have to piss you off more often.”
“You’ve done an excellent job of that ever since you broke my door.” I can’t help but smile. “Dammit, Jayson. You’re making it hard to stay angry at you, but I really am mad at you for what you said to Ryder.”
“He told you?”
“No. Julien did.”
Jayson releases an exasperated sigh, “Jules and his white hat complex.”
“Again, no. You need to apologize for what you said.”
“I’m sorry, Liz.”
“Not to me, you frustrating idiot! To Ryder.”
“I’ll apologize to Ry. I promise,” he relents. Jayson walks over and gives me a hug.
“I’m gross,” I protest, but I return his embrace.
“I don’t care,” he says back. “I’ve missed you.” The hug is brief but powerful. “Stay here. I have something for you.” While I wait for Jayson to return, I pour myself some coffee. It’s lukewarm but beggars can’t be choosers.
“Here, I got this for you.”
When I see the small black jewelry box in the outstretched palm of his hand, I freeze, eyes wide, coffee mug poised in front of my face. My eyes flick from the box to him. “Jayson?”
“It’s not what you think. Just open it.” He places the box on the counter in front of me. I eye it as if it’s full of snakes waiting to jump out at me. “Liz, open the damn box.”
“Okay. Fine,” I snap, but don’t move to touch it.
“Liz.”
“Okay!” I slam my mug down and grab the box. I lift the lid just a fraction. Good, no snakes. I pop it open the rest of the way. Inside is a large heart-shaped locket like the ones you put pictures in. It’s gold and has intricate filigree designs.
“Turn it over.”
I do and gasp. Inscribed on the back is our daughter’s name, Elizabeth Ann. But there’s something added to the end. Jameson. “Elizabeth Ann Jameson. Our beloved daughter. You will forever be in our hearts.”
I lose it. Right there. Just sink down onto the floor and cry. Jayson sits down beside me and lifts me into his lap, holding me like I’ve imagined holding my little girl a million times this past week.
“It’s beautiful, Jayson,” I cry. He takes the box out of my clenched hand and removes the necklace, placing it around my neck. I touch the heart. Our precious girl.
He opens the locket. “You can decide later if you want to put a picture in it. But I wanted you to have something so it wouldn’t be empty.”
Inside the locket is a picture of the two of us as children. We have our arms slung over each other’s shoulders, my pale blond locks contrasting with his dark brown hair.
