Relief washed over her face. "Okay. Wait for me—I'll come back and read our son a story."
It wasn't until I'd coaxed our son to sleep that I heard a door creak open.
Derek stood there, tugging at his pajama collar to reveal a trail of red marks. His smile was pure provocation.
"Sorry, bro. Jasmine fell asleep in my room."
I smiled, unsurprised. "Okay."
I was almost used to it.
Early the next morning, after our son finished breakfast, Jasmine finally emerged from the master bedroom with dark circles under her eyes.
Derek leaned in and straightened her collar.
"You worked hard last night, Jasmine."
In the past, that kind of innuendo would've sent me into a rage.
Jasmine instinctively looked at me, ready to explain.
I cut her off with a light laugh. "Eat. We still have to visit the grave."
I'd agreed with her two weeks ago to visit my mom's grave. When Mom was alive, she'd doted on Jasmine like her own daughter. Every year, I made sure to bring her along.
She'd borrowed the biggest vehicle from the plant.
When we got in, Derek slid into the front passenger seat before I could.