Page 77 of Dead Serious Case 5 Madame Vivienne

Now, if you have found him already, let me speak to my son-in-law.

I pause and draw in a shaky breath. Blinking back the tears, I look across at Danny. He nods slowly as I wipe my eyes and turn back to the page.

To the man who holds my son’s heart in his hands. I hope they are safe hands. Maybe I will have already met you, maybe I will remember you, maybe not. But I know that you’re a good man because my son chose you. Just know this. I love you because you love my son.

Take care of each other and if there is such a place as Heaven, know that Tristan’s mum and I will be watching over both of you.

Love, Dad xxx

I can’t bear the pain in my chest. It feels like a pile of rocks, the weight excruciating. I can’t see through my tears as I rise slowly from my chair and move away from the table and towards the bedroom. Taking my favourite blanket from where it’s folded up on the chair, I crawl onto the bare mattress, pull the blanket over my head, and clutch the letter to my aching chest. The grief swamps me.

Following behind him, I watch helplessly as Tristan crawls onto the bed and curls into himself. Pulling his favourite blanket over his head, he shuts down. I know he’s dealing with his grief the only way he can, but it feels like a giant wall is being built between us brick by brick.

I turn around and walk back to the kitchen where Chan still sits and is watching me silently.

“I don’t need to ask you if you’re okay. I can see you’re not,” he finally says as I sit back down.

I don’t answer him. I can’t. The words are stuck somewhere in my throat. Instead, I bury my face in my hands and the tears burn my eyes.

“It’s okay.” I feel his hand stroke my back in soothing circles. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you’ll both get past this. All you can do is be there for him and let his grief run its course but, Danny, it’s okay for you to grieve too. I know youwant to be strong for Tris, but I also know how much you cared for Martin. It’s okay for you to hurt too.”

His words, kind and softly spoken, break something inside me and as the tears come, the first sob breaks loose.

I cry. For the first time in years, I really cry, for all of it. For my fucked-up job, for my family who can’t accept me or only will with conditions attached. I cry for Martin, for the sweet man who liked to cuddle in blanket forts and listen to stories. I cry for Tris, for the pain I can’t spare him from. But most of all, I cry for Martin’s words to me years before he even met me. I know they were directed at the idea of the man who’d love his son. But it struck me somewhere deep inside that I didn’t even know was wounded.

This beautiful, sweet man, who loved his own son so much and so deeply, extended that love to me, a stranger he’d yet to meet and wouldn’t remember. He’d loved me and accepted me without reservation when my own father couldn’t.

I try to hold back the gut-wrenching sobs, but I can’t. Warm fingers gently grasp my hands and peel them from my face. I blink through blurry eyes to see Tristan kneeling in front of me. He watches me for a moment with sad eyes before climbing into my lap. Straddling my legs and wrapping his arms around, he holds me tight, stroking my hair as I bury my face in his shoulder.

Another hand squeezes my shoulder and then Chan’s heels click across the kitchen floor. A few seconds later, the front door opens and closes, and I know Chan’s giving us our privacy.

“I’m so sorry,” Tristan mutters while we cling to each other and cry. “I’m so sorry.”

Finally, I pull back and we stare at each other, eyes swollen and tear-stained faces a mess.

“Please don’t shut me out, Tris,” I whisper. “If you don’t want to talk, you don’t have to, but please don’t shut me out.”

“I’m so sorry.” Another tear slides down his face and he sniffs. “I need you, probably way more than you need me. I know I’m not an easy person to love.”

“You’re wrong.” I shake my head. “I need you exactly the same way you need me and everything about you is easy to love. You’re perfect the way you are, even when you haven’t showered for a week.”

He huffs out a sad laugh. “I do smell pretty bad.”

“Tris, I know I didn’t know your dad the way you did. But I loved him. I loved the man who liked to play Scrabble and thought ZXGGRRKYPLEEMA was a word. I loved the man who got scared and wanted to cuddle during thunderstorms while we read to him. The man who was delighted by Christmas crackers but ignored the little gifts inside and liked to collect the torn and used wrappers. But most of all, I loved the man who spent six months sleeping on a hard floor in a blanket fort so his grieving child could feel safe. I loved the man who supported you and loved you without reservation, the man who accepted you just the way you are because he could see how incredible you are. I loved him because he gave me you.”

“Danny.” Tris breathes my name through the constant fall of tears.

“We can grieve together.” I trace his jaw gently. “If you want.”

“I do.” He nods. “I just want you.”

“And you have me.” I kiss his lips and taste his tears. “Always.”

19

Each day is a little easier.

After Danny and I both broke down the other night, we’re closer than ever. I think we each understand what the other needs a little better. I still have a deep-seated fear of being a burden and tend to withdraw into myself as a result, whereas Danny has a huge fear of rejection which he tries to keep hidden. Now we both understand that dynamic a little better and we’re working on it.