Page 21 of Love Under Construction

“I...I’d like you to go with me today to make the rest of the arrangements.”

Jameson’s strong arms wrap around me as I take a deep breath. “What time?” I’m not sure how I’ll get through this but I know I have to.

“Soon. It’s after eleven now. The sooner, the better, I guess. You should come home and put something decent on, you know, dress appropriately.”

Of course, dress appropriately so that we don’t look like a family of grieving women. I roll my eyes, thankful that my mom can’t see me right now. “I’ll be home shortly.”

She doesn’t say goodbye, just ends the call silently.

Jameson keeps one arm around me and takes the phone from my hand. I’m unable to process anything he says as my chest tightens and I feel like I can’t breathe. I gasp for air, and he picks me up in his arms to carry me back to his bed, murmuring to me.

My entire body feels warm and tingly, and I’m breathing rapidly. Anxiety overtakes me like a wave.

“Breathe, Liv. Breathe babe, in and out.” He coaches me until I’m able to calm down again. “One...two...three...four, let it out. One...two...three...four, take a breath in.”

I have no idea how many minutes pass; it all feels like it’s in slow motion. With my eyes closed, I can see my dad laying there. Pale. Cold. Lifeless. Gone.

“I’ve got you Liv; let it out.”

Tears are falling in a steady stream down my face, and I shiver against him. “He’s gone.”

“He is, and there is nothing we can do about it, except put one foot in front of the other and keep living.” Jameson kisses the top of my head. “Come back to here and now. Focus on what you need to do right this minute. Worry about the rest as it comes at you.”

Slowly I nod. “I know.”

“Focus on me.”

Looking up, I lock eyes with Jameson and see his own sadness, but more than that, I see his strength.

“You with me?” He asks.

“I’m here.”

“Good. Let’s get you in the shower, shall we?”

My legs are shaking beneath me as Jameson lets me stand. He stays close, practically holding me up on the way to his ensuite.

I lean against the counter while Jameson fusses about, turning on the water and gathering towels and washcloths.

“Do you want me to stay, or would you rather have a minute alone?” He questions, softly.

“I think I need a minute.”

Tucked under the warm cascade of water, I begin to sob uncontrollably. Grief sweeps in like a freight train as thoughts of my dad swirl around in my head. Guilt consumes me when the play by play of my night with Jameson rolls back through my mind. I’m ashamed that I let things go that far in a moment that I needed it so very much.

When I finally step out of the shower, I find a pair of Jameson’s gym shorts and one of his old t-shirts waiting for me on the counter.

I take the clean clothes and put them on, rolling the shorts a dozen times, before I step out of the bathroom. My is hair still wet as we head back to my parents' house.

As soon as the front door opens, my mom is standing there, waiting. A scowl firmly planted on her face. “Olivia,” she hisses. “What on earth are you wearing right now?”

“Mrs. H,” Jameson quickly swoops in and gives my mom an unexpected hug. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Ma’am. Liv wanted to freshen up before we came over, so I let her borrow clean clothes just for the ride over.”

“Right, well. That was very kind of you Jameson,” my mom casts her judgemental glare at me. “Olivia, please go change into something more appropriate. And for the love of God, fix your hair.”

Chapter 12

Jameson

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