“What is this place?”
Roderick didn’t answer. He stepped slowly into the room with me, as the door swung shut behind us.
“I mean it’s almost like a museum,” I said. “But then again…”
I looked again, and saw the more modern truth beneath the antediluvian decor. A comfortable-looking quilt and bedspread that was made in today’s day and age. A big flat-paneled television, occupying one wall. On the nighttable beside the bed I saw a plug-in speaker, even a docking station for a smartphone. These things were out of place, but they weren’t. They belonged here somehow.
And then I saw the photo.
In a silver frame on the dresser stood a beautiful pic of a blonde-haired woman and three men. Squinting, I immediately made out the faces standing behind her.
The guys.
Bryce stood on one side, Camden on the other. Roderick was in the middle, directly behind her. He was even smiling.
But the woman…
The woman was someone I recognized. Not right away, but after three or four seconds her identity came to me in a flash of sudden insight.
“It’s her!”
Roderick looked up slowly, like he was recovering from a trance. “Who?”
“The girl from the painting. In the music room.”
I saw him swallow, and it obviously took some effort. Dipping his chin again, he nodded solemnly.
“Yes.”
“W—Who is she?”
“Was she.”
Goosebumps erupted all over my body. Somehow I knew, even before I’d asked.
“Okay then,” I said, trying to remain calm and respectful. “Who was she?”
The expression on Roderick’s face turned from one of somber remembrance to deep-seeded pain. Unlike most guys, he didn’t try to hide it. I gave him credit for that.
“Her name was Madison,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice from breaking. It wasn’t working out though.
“She was our wife.”
Thirty-Six
KARISSA
The word struck me instantly, but still took a full ten seconds to sink in. During the interim I stood there in silence, unblinking. The visual of the photograph — and the three men smiling back at me from it — seared itself into my mind.
“Your… wife?”
“Yes,” said Roderick.
“Not just yours either,” I clarified. “Bryce’s wife. Camden’s too.”
“All of us, yes.”
I took a half step backward, then stabled myself. It was the last thing I expected.
“This was her own personal bedroom,” Roderick continued. “The one she chose when we first moved in. She was the reason we bought this place. Renovating it, turning it into a venue that would someday make us money… all of it was Maddy’s idea.”
“Maddy,” I repeated. The name didn’t sound right when I said it, though.
“Yes.”
“You all… married her.”
“Look, I know it’s strange,” said Roderick. “But we tried to tell you. We wanted to tell you.”
I took a long, deep breath. They had, actually. It was all my fault for not wanting to see.
“It’s not that it’s strange,” I countered. “It’s just… well, I don’t know. I mean, I do know in some ways. I can obviously see how she could fall for the three of you. Just like I did.”
Roderick stood in silence for a moment. He was staring at the photograph intently, as if remembering the day it was taken.
“I just never thought…”
“About marriage?”
I hesitated, then shrugged. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“It was the next inevitable step,” he replied. “We dated, we fell in love, we looked for a place we could all be together. For a while we were in three different apartments, running around like crazy. Carrying clothes with us everywhere. Jumping from bed to bed.”
He stopped short, checking me for some sort of reaction. When he realized I had none he continued.
“This manor was a ruined mess when Maddy first found it. But she wanted it so badly. She sat down with us, and helped us work the price down. It would take a long time to renovate, but in the end—”
“In the end it would all pay off,” I finished for him.
“Yes.”
I gulped again, and this time I was able to swallow the lump in my throat. My pulse was returning to normal. The heat I’d felt upon learning the guys had actually been married was finally leaving my body.
That, of course, left only one question unanswered.
“Roderick?”
Still standing there in his workout shirt, he crossed his bare arms and raised an eyebrow my way.
“How did she die?”
It occurred to me immediately he’d never told me their wife was actually dead. But to me it was obvious. It was in the way he talked about her. It was in the heaviness of his voice.
“Car accident,” he said and turned away. “Bad one.”
Roderick’s back was to me now, so I couldn’t read his face. I thought I saw his shoulders slump. Not just slump, but bounce a little afterward. Almost like… well, like…
Is he crying?
I honestly didn’t know. I couldn’t ask. I could barely even look at him.
“Is there anything else you need?” he choked. “Or are we done in here, or—”
“Oh yes,” I said quickly. “We’re done.”
He held the door for me on the way out. I caught him taking one last look as he closed it.
“You go in there a lot, don’t you?”
Roderick nodded. He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were glassy.
“I’m so sorry,” I told him. “I’m a snooping asshole. I never would’ve tried to go in there, if I knew—”
“I know.”
I flung my arms around him and hugged him, more for myself than him. Now my eyes were glassy. My heart felt like a bowling ball, weighing heavy in my chest.
“It just hurts, you know?” he said. “Seeing her stuff. Looking at how it all used to be.”
My heart was ready to explode. My mind was reeling. “I understand.”
He pulled back and looked at me. “Do you really?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m sorry too.”
We hugged again, our bodies so tight we became one. It was pure love, pure comfort. Two people clinging to each other in a storm of memories, both good and bad.
“I go in there because I have
