The Dollhouse(16)

“I know, and we will. I am so sorry about this.”

“Why do you have to go back? I had no idea; you didn’t give me any warning you were unhappy.”

He sighed. “It’s not like that. I realized it’s not about my happiness. I am happy, happier, with you. But until the girls are more stable, I can’t leave them. We think Miranda has a serious illness.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s very possible she has bipolar disorder. We’re trying to find out more.”

“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t argue with him. Sicknesses of the mind were just as terrible as those of the body, no different from cancer. Like her father, spiraling out of control, getting worse every day. “What are you going to do?”

“We’re finding a treatment center for her. It’s complicated, and that’s why I have to be around right now.”

“Do you think, once the crisis has passed, you might come back? That we could pick up where we leave off?”

“Perhaps. If you want that. I don’t know if you’d want that by then.”

“Neither do I.”

Of course she would. Why kid herself? She’d invested three years in their relationship, and letting go wasn’t easy.

“God, Rose, this is torture. I know I keep saying this, but I’m so sorry to do this to you.”

His voice was heavy, sad. If only he’d confided in her, told her what was happening. She knew Miranda was difficult, but assumed it was typical teen drama. A passing my-parents-ruined-my-life-by-getting-divorced kind of thing.

“I just wish you’d said something sooner. I might have helped.”

“It’s not for you to fix. It’s for me and Connie.”

Rose checked her watch. She should be getting back. “Can we keep on talking?”

“Of course. I’m going to Albany with the mayor for a few days. We’ll talk when I get back.”

Back in her cubicle twenty minutes later, Rose’s phone rang. Maddy calling for an update. She whispered a quick rehash of her conversation with Griff.

“You’re out of your mind.” Maddy was never one to hold back. “You need to be getting angry, not acting like an understanding suck-up.”

That hurt. “I’m not sucking up.” Rose ducked her head down, hoping for a smidgen of privacy. “He’s going through something awful, just like me and my dad. If I’m calm and reasonable about the situation, he might come to his senses later.”

“Do you really want a man like that?”

“What, one who cares for his children? Yes, in fact, I do.”

“Plenty of men get divorced and care for their children without having to go back to their ex-wives. It’s more than that. He’s giving you the sympathetic version because he knows you’ll fall for it.”

If she were Maddy, she’d toss Griff off the nearest cliff, but his actions weren’t so cut-and-dried in Rose’s mind. Griff was a man with a sick child, desperate to make her better.

A sharp pain seared along her scalp, the beginnings of a bad headache. Maddy had a point, Griff had a point. She didn’t know what to think.

“I’m not prepared to blow it all up yet. And I don’t think he is, either.” She rubbed her temples with her thumb and ring finger. “Please, Maddy, I need your support. Neither of us has kids, so we can’t really know what’s going on in his head.”

“Touché. I have enough stress from my sweet baby stepmonsters, never mind dealing with genetic offspring. But promise me you won’t wait around for him for too long. You deserve better.”

Rose promised and hung up, then lost herself in the research for the Barbizon story, a welcome distraction from her troubles.




The apartment was as desolate as ever when Rose finally made it home. Griff’s suits, the ones he wore every day, were missing from the closet, his sock and underwear drawers empty and left half-open.

She flung herself on the bed, hoping for a good cry, but when no tears came, she got up and sat by the window. Would it be better if she tossed the rest of his suits out onto the street below?

No. She needed to bide her time, let him return to Connie and see how awful it was, then allow him back with certain provisions. They had to get married, buy furniture, see a counselor. She mentally checked off a list one by one. If only she’d hired an interior designer to furnish the damn apartment in one fell swoop. Perhaps if he’d felt more settled, or even financially invested, he’d have stuck around. At the very least, then she’d have a nice place to stay, for a while. Instead of this tomb.

It was all she could do not to climb under the covers and go to sleep, turn off her brain for a moment. But she had to keep her job, which meant putting on a brave face and charming the woman downstairs. She rummaged through her bag for the letter she’d written at work, explaining who she was and asking for a short interview. She knew she’d have to earn Miss McLaughlin’s trust first, and she didn’t want to scare her off.

After swiping on a coat of fresh lipstick and smoothing her hair, she grabbed the envelope and her keys and took the elevator down to the fourth floor.

The dog, the one named Bird, barked furiously when she knocked on the door of 4B. She heard a muffled voice tell him to be quiet and the shuffle of steps. She stood back, trying to look as friendly as possible, the envelope tucked behind her back. But the door didn’t creak open, not even an inch.