Page 12 of Kiss From A Rose

"Jude, you and I are in the wrong when it comes to your mother," I said softly. "I set a bad example for you."

Jude groaned. "I hate this self-flagellation. She left. This is on her. Look, I have to go."

He hung up, but Willow stayed on the line. "I ignored her," she said softly. "I just ignored herall the time."

"Why?"

"Because she's not as cool as you. She's, you know, at home and stuff. She doesn't talk to the Governor or the Mayor. She's just cooking and…." Willow was sobbing now, "I've been a crappy daughter, Daddy."

"No, honey. Oh, sweetheart." I didn't know how to console her.

"Mike said that you, Jude, and I had created an in-group, and she was in the out-group."

"What?"

"He's studying psychology," Willow explained. "And he's right. I've been racking my brain; the three of us would talk, and she'd be quiet. If she tried to say something like she did about Wright, we'd ignore or shut her out like Jude did. It's not just him. It's youandme too."

"I know."

"We don't deserve her. She told me how sad she was about Malou dying, and I told her I had class and didn't have time to talk to her."

It broke my heart that my kid was crying,butit broke my heart more that I left my wife alone to deal with her life: a dying friend, a mean mother-in-law, a difficult sister-in-law, the world thinking her husband was screwing around, and kids who didn't respect her,everything.

I did my best to console Willow, but we both knew that we'd fucked up. That much was evident.

It was driving me up the wall not to have heard from Rose. I assumed she probably went to see her friend Malou, but I had no idea where Malou lived. Somewhere on an island or something. The kids didn't know either. That was another mark against me. Her closest friend was dying, and Rose visited her often in past years, yet, I had no fucking idea where she lived.

I was giving Rose some time to cool down. Once she realized how dramatic she was being, she would call, and we would settlethis. I was certain of that. She loved her family. She was devoted to us. There had never been any doubt in my mind about that.

But she'd up and left.

I was angry as hell with Rose. I was angry with myself. I was sad. I was hurting. I was going through all the fucking stages of grief at the same time.

I looked through my messages to see if maybe she sent something. The latest was one from the day of our anniversary.

I hope you'll be home early. I'm opening a bottle of bubbly and making your favorites for dinner. I love you.

I hadn't even seen the message until now. I scrolled through the old ones. She hadn't sent me a message for six months until the one on the day of our anniversary.

The last message had been in May,When will you be home, Gray?

The messages before that, most of them unanswered had been in the same vein.

Will you be home by six? Sage and Andrew are coming for dinner.This one I responded to with a simple,Yes.

Can you be home by eight? I was hoping we could have dinner together—no response to that one.

I made a peach cobbler. I'll leave you a slice.No response. I probably had eaten the cobbler after I came home late.

It's the twins' birthday. Can we call them together?My response had been,Already talked to them. Did she get a chance to wish them? Did they answer her call?

Bonnie wanted to ask about the children's hospital charity ball. Am I going to be joining you?I responded:Yes.

Bonnie is upset about my booking the Tybee Island house for next weekend. She wants me to cancel.I remembered I called her about the Rutherford family house and not as a response to her message but because Bonnie had called to bitch about Rose.

"You know you need to check with Bonnie and Holden, Rose. They had plans," I told her over the phone.

"I did check with Bonnie, Gray."

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