him. He had accepted her love and returned it with lies. And then he died and caused a part of her to die with him.
“Well, what did he leave you guys?” Gigi asked.
“Homeless. Penniless. Scared.”
As much as Daisy wanted to blame her troubles on Jasper, honesty wouldn’t permit it. Everything had happened with her permission. Jasper had never held a gun to her head and forced her to do anything. She’d willingly given him control of her life because she’d wanted him to have it—needed him to.
I’m in charge of my own life now. I can do this, handle this. I can. She battled the doubt that eased in. “Why?” Daisy whispered hoarsely.
Resting her head against the wall, she peered across the room at the heap of Jasper’s belongings that she had piled in the corner. Her first thought had been to burn his things, but her conscience wouldn’t allow it. She needed to cremate her memories, not his clothes. She stared at the pile. Jasper’s essence was in the room. Daisy couldn’t resist the temptation; she walked to the pile and picked up one of Jasper’s silk shirts. Rubbing the slick fabric against her cheek, she felt goose bumps travel down the nape of her neck to the bottom of her spine. Closing her eyes, she gave in to the softness of the silk. Her mind drifted to memories of Jasper’s hands caressing her. She held the shirt to her nose and inhaled.
The material didn’t smell like Jasper. It smelled like Camille.
Daisy’s stomach turned. She knew the thought was ridiculous; the shirt had been piled among Jasper’s other things for so long that it couldn’t smell like anyone. It was all in her mind. The mere thought of him was making her ill one day and aroused the next. As much as she was starting to despise Jasper’s memory, she still loved him. She was suffocating, trapped between love and hate.
She stood, wringing her hands, and took slow, deliberate steps toward the pile of clothes. Pain, anger, and grief took hold of her. Even in death, Jasper was controlling her. Daisy shook her head. She wouldn’t allow him to overpower her anymore.
“Okay.” She nodded, giving herself permission to rid herself of Jasper’s things. She retrieved a box of garbage bags from the pantry, made a beeline to the living room, and tossed them across the room toward Jasper’s stuff. Then she grabbed her keys, hurried outside, and backed her Jeep onto the lawn. She opened the top and bottom hatch, then went inside to finish her business with Jasper’s ghost.
In the living room, she hesitated. Boxes would be easier, neater. But I’m being put out like trash, so why shouldn’t you? May your spirit always be Glad. Daisy smirked as she stuffed Jasper’s belongings into the trash bags and piled them into the back of her SUV. She ran back inside to the guest room and grabbed the jewelry box from the dresser. She removed the promise ring that Jasper had given her. She held it, studied its intricate pattern of diamonds and rubies, then stuffed it into her pocket.
Daisy trudged through the grass toward Jasper’s massive marble headstone. The wind blew her hair and the leaves rustled, but Daisy didn’t notice. The inscription on Jasper’s gravestone held her attention: Loving and devoted husband, father, and son. His baby wasn’t even born yet. On the way to the cemetery, she wanted to shout, curse Jasper, and spit on his grave. But now, she couldn’t take her eyes off the chiseled words. She’d known she wouldn’t be included in the inscription. But seeing it like this was cruel, an announcement of just how unimportant she was.
“ ‘Lying, conniving, deadbeat dad, and two-timing boyfriend of devoted girlfriend’ is how the stone should read,” she sobbed. “I won’t ask why, Jasper. I know now. It’s written in stone.”
She knelt down, digging her nails in the earth until she had made a small hole. Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved the promise ring. “You gave me this once, remember?
“Well, what did he leave you guys?” Gigi asked.
“Homeless. Penniless. Scared.”
As much as Daisy wanted to blame her troubles on Jasper, honesty wouldn’t permit it. Everything had happened with her permission. Jasper had never held a gun to her head and forced her to do anything. She’d willingly given him control of her life because she’d wanted him to have it—needed him to.
I’m in charge of my own life now. I can do this, handle this. I can. She battled the doubt that eased in. “Why?” Daisy whispered hoarsely.
Resting her head against the wall, she peered across the room at the heap of Jasper’s belongings that she had piled in the corner. Her first thought had been to burn his things, but her conscience wouldn’t allow it. She needed to cremate her memories, not his clothes. She stared at the pile. Jasper’s essence was in the room. Daisy couldn’t resist the temptation; she walked to the pile and picked up one of Jasper’s silk shirts. Rubbing the slick fabric against her cheek, she felt goose bumps travel down the nape of her neck to the bottom of her spine. Closing her eyes, she gave in to the softness of the silk. Her mind drifted to memories of Jasper’s hands caressing her. She held the shirt to her nose and inhaled.
The material didn’t smell like Jasper. It smelled like Camille.
Daisy’s stomach turned. She knew the thought was ridiculous; the shirt had been piled among Jasper’s other things for so long that it couldn’t smell like anyone. It was all in her mind. The mere thought of him was making her ill one day and aroused the next. As much as she was starting to despise Jasper’s memory, she still loved him. She was suffocating, trapped between love and hate.
She stood, wringing her hands, and took slow, deliberate steps toward the pile of clothes. Pain, anger, and grief took hold of her. Even in death, Jasper was controlling her. Daisy shook her head. She wouldn’t allow him to overpower her anymore.
“Okay.” She nodded, giving herself permission to rid herself of Jasper’s things. She retrieved a box of garbage bags from the pantry, made a beeline to the living room, and tossed them across the room toward Jasper’s stuff. Then she grabbed her keys, hurried outside, and backed her Jeep onto the lawn. She opened the top and bottom hatch, then went inside to finish her business with Jasper’s ghost.
In the living room, she hesitated. Boxes would be easier, neater. But I’m being put out like trash, so why shouldn’t you? May your spirit always be Glad. Daisy smirked as she stuffed Jasper’s belongings into the trash bags and piled them into the back of her SUV. She ran back inside to the guest room and grabbed the jewelry box from the dresser. She removed the promise ring that Jasper had given her. She held it, studied its intricate pattern of diamonds and rubies, then stuffed it into her pocket.
Daisy trudged through the grass toward Jasper’s massive marble headstone. The wind blew her hair and the leaves rustled, but Daisy didn’t notice. The inscription on Jasper’s gravestone held her attention: Loving and devoted husband, father, and son. His baby wasn’t even born yet. On the way to the cemetery, she wanted to shout, curse Jasper, and spit on his grave. But now, she couldn’t take her eyes off the chiseled words. She’d known she wouldn’t be included in the inscription. But seeing it like this was cruel, an announcement of just how unimportant she was.
“ ‘Lying, conniving, deadbeat dad, and two-timing boyfriend of devoted girlfriend’ is how the stone should read,” she sobbed. “I won’t ask why, Jasper. I know now. It’s written in stone.”
She knelt down, digging her nails in the earth until she had made a small hole. Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved the promise ring. “You gave me this once, remember?
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