I'd wondered if Dahlia would have redecorated when Cyrus was gone. She hadn't changed much, except to add potted plants and a simple wrought-iron cafe table and chairs to the foyer. The doors to the study were closed, but for the strangest instant I wanted to rush to them and throw them open, to find Cyrus there, the old Cyrus, waking for me.

"She's upstairs," Clarence said, correcting what he thought was my presumption that I would find Dahlia in the study. He pointed to the curving staircase. From the foyer I could see that the second level was dark. "You know the way."

I started up the steps. Clarence made no move to follow me. My heart leaped farther up in my throat with each step I took. I'd never been back to the rooms where I'd lived with Cyrus, where I'd made love to him—no, had sex with him; I had to keep that straight, at least. Where I'd bargained for Ziggy's life. I ached for those months. I don't know why. When I was living them, I'd been in hell. But things hadn't improved too much since, and I realized with a shock that maybe I had loved Cyrus then more than I loved Nathan now.

There wasn't time to mull over my relationship problems, though. The huge double doors to Cyrus's room loomed ahead. As I passed my former quarters, my fingers itched to touch the door handle, and I indulged myself. I had no doubt my things had probably all been thrown away, but I had to go back, just for a moment.

I hadn't changed the decor of the room when I'd inherited it from Dahlia, so it was no surprise to see it remained exactly as I had left it. In fact, a light film of dust on everything suggested it hadn't been inhabited for quite some time, either. I paced quietly around the furniture in the parlor. There was the sofa Ziggy had slept on. There was the chair Cyrus had thrown me into in a fit of rage.

And there was the secret door he'd used to spy on me and intrude into my space. The hutch in the corner remained as it had been, but a tiny latch was installed now. I wondered if that had been during Dahlia's post-Carrie return to power, brief though it had been.

From the window I caught a glimpse of the rusty, unused gate where Nathan and I had met to plot Ziggy's freedom. A lump formed in my throat. I would have given anything then to be with him, away from Cyrus. Why was I so torn now?