by Cari Quinn
“Twenty-five.”
Nick shook his head. “Damn infant.”
“He wants what I have. What we have. He’s hungry for it. Has that burning need we used to have. Remember?”
“You saying we don’t anymore?”
“I’m saying it’s different now. For fuck’s sake, we all have wives. Kids. We’re settled.”
“You don’t have a kid.”
“Yeah, well, you have two, so you got an extra for me.”
“We’re trying for another one.”
Simon blinked, unsure if he’d heard correctly. “Say what now?”
“We’re going for another.”
“Going for another? Like you buy it at the supermarket?”
“No, like it takes time sometimes.” Nick scuffed his sneaker over the pavement. “It can be a process.”
Simon snorted. “The process of you fuck and oh shit.”
“You act like it’s so easy. Sometimes it isn’t. And how would you know anyway?”
Something twisted in Simon’s gut and he laced his sore hands behind his neck. Kids had never been part of his life plan. A wise person knew when they were too fucked up to bring anyone else into an already messed up world. He was okay with that decision. Had never questioned it.
But this whole Ian situation had screwed with his head. He didn’t know what he was about anymore. Everything that had seemed so brutally clear just yesterday was murky and dark.
“It was easy enough for you and Li the first time. Unplanned, wasn’t it? Just like Ian had to be.”
“You don’t know that.”
“What?”
“That Ian was unplanned. If he really is your brother. You just don’t know.”
Simon barked out a laugh. “She supposedly split to England while she was pregnant with him. Doesn’t seem like she was feeling the whole family vibe.”
“You don’t know,” Nick repeated. “Until we find out more, it’s all just speculation. And even after we do know, how do you ever know for sure what’s in someone else’s head? Even if they tell you.”
“There’s a cheery thought.” But so fucking true.
“As for it being easy enough the first time,” Nicky’s voice was unusually tight, “it doesn’t always work the same way twice. You get lucky. Hit by lightning.”
“Not sure those two things mean the same thing.”
Nicky jerked a shoulder. “No. But not everything happens on a timetable. Just like with the band. We had to work for it.”
“So what you’re saying is, in the old days, we had to hope and pray we didn’t knock up some chick. Now you’re hoping for the opposite.”
“Pretty much.”
His best friend’s smile was a relief. He didn’t know what to say when it came to this shit. He wasn’t the fatherly type, though he would’ve said the same about Nicky once upon a time.
No bad timing.
No good timing.
Just timing, and it was your choice to make the most of it.
Look at that, lyrics to a new song. His life felt like it was in the crapper right now, but at least he could channel his frustration into words and music.
Always his savior.
“We’re in no rush,” Nicky said after a minute. “Not like the practice is a hardship.”
“True that.” Simon dropped his arms into his lap. “Look, man, if what I said seemed insensitive…” He trailed off and sighed. “It was. Because I’m a dick. And in a mood. And you can take a free punch, but maybe wait until after the show, huh?”
Nicky laughed and stood up. “It’s no fun if you let me.” He held out his fist and bumped his knuckles with Simon. “C’mon, before your wife comes down here and de-balls you.”
“Probably deserve it.” Simon dragged himself to his feet. “I’m easy pickings right now. Christ, that kid has a fist on him.”
“Getting soft too.”
“Asshole,” he said as they started to walk. Limp in his case, though he did his best to hide it. “I’m in the gym every damn day.”
“About that. I think I could use some, uh, honing.”
Simon cocked a brow. “Honing? Well, yeah, duh, but nothing new there. Your potato chip days catching up with you finally?”
“Yeah, maybe a little. You ever see how that Lewis dude looks under his shirts? It’s kinda scary.”
“Whoa, why are you checking out Donovan’s body?”
“I wasn’t checking it out per se, just happened to notice it when he was sitting around shirtless while in a meeting with my wife.”
Simon scratched his chin as they circled around to the front of the hotel. “This sounds like a story I should hear.”
“No story, just I need some, I don’t know, shaping? Plus, I guess the diet is part of the whole knocking up thing.”
“Your diet?” There were many things he didn’t know about having a child.
Nor did he want to.
They walked into the hotel. “It doesn’t hurt, I guess.” Nicky ran a hand over the back of his head. “Whatever. I wanna get cut. If that jackass Lewis can look like a model under his business suits, I can do the same. Minus the suits.” He shuddered. “So how do I do that?”
Simon straightened as he noticed an elderly woman eyeing him as he limped across the lobby. He didn’t answer until they were in the elevator on the way upstairs.
“First step? Come to the damn gym now and then.”
“I’ll do that. What time?”
“Tomorrow, six-thirty.” Where he should’ve been this morning instead of stewing about fucking Ian.
Nick leaned against the back wall of the elevator. “Six-thirty? We’re doing soundcheck then.”
“Not six-thirty at night, fucko. Try six-thirty in the morning.” He glanced back as the elevator reached their floor, only to laugh as he glimpsed the pure shock on his boy Nicky’s face. “Dude, you want to get cut, you gotta put in the work. Isn’t that what you said outside?”
“That’s not even a humane time. Charlie’s up half the night and with them in our room, we can’t escape.”
“Yet you want another one.”
Nick shrugged as he straightened from his slouch against the wall and finally got his ass moving. “They’re cute when they’re unconscious. And only Charlie doesn’t sleep well. Odds are 50/50 the next would be a good sleeper.”
“Charlie is a demon, awake or asleep. Just like her father.”
“Watch it, asshole, or I’ll step in front of a bus just so you get sacked with parenting your goddaughters.”
Simon shook his head and tugged out his wallet to pry out his keycard. “Li would wisely kill me herself before she’d ever let me parent a child—” The door swung open just as he was about to slip in the keycard and he swallowed, taking in Margo’s unusually disheveled appearance.
To anyone else, she would look flawless. Beautiful. She was beautiful to him as well, but he couldn’t miss the lines of strain around her eyes, or the dampness on her cheeks.
Because of him.
“Hi.” He swallowed again and found his throat was dust-dry. “Were we loud?”
Rather than answer, Margo turned around and walked into the suite.
Exchanging a look with Nicky, Simon followed. Nicky headed into the connecting suite. The door closing between the two rooms seemed so final.
A punctuation mark on a shitty morning.
Simon dropped his wallet and phone on the nightstand and turned back to Margo, who’d moved to the far side of the room. She stared out the window, holding her arms tightly against herself.
“I’m sorry I took off,” he said finally when it became clear she wouldn’t speak. He didn’t expect her to. He just didn’t know what to say.
How to begin to explain.
“When did you leave?” Her voice was quiet. Too quiet. Another way she was holding herself back.
He would’ve preferred it if she screamed. That would’ve given him a chance to let his own anger have free rein. But she was
too controlled for that.
“Shortly after you fell asleep.” He scraped a hand through his hair, then cursed at the automatic gesture and stared down at his battered knuckles. “I found his address online.”
“And you went off without security. All alone, in a foreign country in the middle of the night to meet someone who could’ve been drawing you out for nefarious purposes.”
“Oh, he was, but it wasn’t to rob or kill me. At least not that blatantly.” Simon released a harsh laugh. “He might want to rob me, but he’s not a pickpocket.”
“Not according to what Li found. He has some priors on his record for just that. And fighting, which I can see clearly from your face.”
“The rest of me is about the same. Jesus. You know how long it’s been since I’ve been in a fight like that? Last time was probably with Nicky, and that was years ago.”
“He’d pull his punches at least.”
“You think?” Simon laughed again, shaking his head. “Neither of us did. The whole point was making it hurt.”
“Sorry for assuming you’d be intelligent enough to pull them.” She turned to face him. “So now what? Am I supposed to play the little woman and dab your cuts and coo that he probably looks worse?”
“He does.” He wasn’t sure of that at all, but whatever. She hadn’t been there, and that fib was the least of his current issues.
“Good job.” The sarcasm in her tone wasn’t lost on him. “Did you miss the part where you acted like a complete jackass by charging out of here in the middle of the night without protection?”
“Oh, I had protection. I still keep my old lucky condom as a relic from the past. But Ian wasn’t looking for that kind of action.”
She wasn’t amused by his lame attempt at humor. Truth be told, neither was he.
He was a goddamn jackass.
“So if I go off in the middle of the night without leaving a note, you’ll be okay with that, right?”
“No.” He worked his jaw. That ached too, for fuck’s sake. Far too much of him did. “It’s not the same.”
“Oh, really? Why is that? Because I’m female? Did someone forget to inform me that as a male, you’re incapable of being injured…or killed?” Her voice broke on the last word.
“Dammit, Violin Girl, I wasn’t thinking.” He started to go to her, but she threw up a hand to ward him off.
“You weren’t thinking, but I’ve had plenty of time to do nothing but for the last few hours. And then you send me a six-word text as if that’ll make me feel better. Put yourself in my shoes for a second. Just a second.”
He heaved out a breath and shut his eyes. He didn’t want to switch places, because he wouldn’t have been nearly so calm. The room would’ve been trashed and he would have raged at the universe that if anything happened to her, he would fucking burn the world down.
Instead, she was watching him with ravaged dark eyes, and it was worse than a million hurled insults.
“I’m sorry. There’s no excuse.”
“No. There isn’t.” She turned away from him, and panic spurted in his chest, extinguishing even the shame.
“Violin Girl.” This time, he did go to her, and she braced as he laid his hands on her shoulders.
She was shaking.
“Hey, hey, come here. I’m fine.” Tugging her closer was like trying to displace dead weight. She planted her feet and didn’t give an inch. But he didn’t stop until she was against his chest and he could fold his sore arms around her and bury his face in the familiar honeysuckle scent of her hair. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “He wasn’t looking to take me out.”
“What was he looking for?” Her words were muffled against his throat. “Do you know?”
He stared out the window at the sunny London day and all the people hurrying along on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. How could sunshine feel so cold?
“Validation, I think,” he said after a minute. “Acknowledgement that he existed.”
She eased back and stared up at him. “You believe him.”
Even with Nick, he hadn’t been ready to fully admit it. Only with his wife could he let the truth that lived inside him free.
“Yeah. I believe him.” He exhaled and tipped her face up with his thumb. “I need some aspirin, but I don’t want to let you go.”
Shaking her head, she smiled weakly and gave him a light push toward the bed. “Sit. Let me do my wifely duty.”
He couldn’t deny the idea of someone fussing over him sounded damn good. “I thought you didn’t want to coo.”
“Cooing is optional.” She was already heading into the bathroom.
He flopped back on the mattress and immediately regretted it. Aw, fuck. Did that kid have steel in his joints or something?
Cold comfort came from the fact that he knew Ian had to be hurting too. Simon had taken too many beatings himself not to know where and how to hit, even if he was out of practice.
And thank fuck for that. Those days were over, and he wasn’t going back.
“Bless you,” he said fervently as Margo came around the bed, carrying a bottle of pills and a glass of water.
In the old days, he would’ve wished for vodka, and he couldn’t say he’d entirely stopped wanting it. But right now, the water felt like a balm on his too-tight throat. As did her hand smoothing over his forehead.
“You should strip so I can take a look at the rest of you.”
He waggled his brows. Even they hurt. Christ. “Sorry, I might have to make you wait a bit for that.”
“Did I mention you were a jackass?”
“Yes, and I’ve said it to myself a few times as well.”
“Swallow your pills.”
“Yes, Mom.”
Her brow furrowed and she turned her head away as he did as she’d asked. Then he laid back against the pillows and trailed his fingers over her hip, nearly indistinguishable in her padded robe. “Did you sleep?”
“Yes.”
“You were out.”
She bowed her head and a chunk of thick dark hair fell free to hide her face. His fingers itched to tuck it back, but that would be too easy. She deserved more.
Like the truth.
“It was all over the net. Everyone knows. So many articles, and YT clips of his show, and all the gossip rags were speculating if he’s the new Simon Kagan.” He stared up at the ceiling. “Except I’m still right fucking here.”
“He’s not you.”
“He looks like me. Sounds like me. Just a younger, hungrier version. He still wants it. I saw everything burning in him that used to be in me.”
“Are you saying it isn’t? That you don’t want this life anymore?”
“No. Christ, no. Who would I be without music?”
He didn’t expect her to sigh and set aside the glass of water she still held for him. She curled up against his side and laid her head on his chest. The weight of her was a relief, as was burying his fingers in the soft sweetness of her hair.
“You’d be the man I love,” she said softly. “Trappings aren’t what makes you who you are. The fame and money don’t matter. But that love for music, that passion that is at the core of you, only intensifies the rest.”
He shut his eyes when they burned. “Thank God for you.” He fisted his hand in her hair. “Thank fucking God.”
She slipped her hand under his shirt and lifted her brows as he exhaled. “He’s a sucker-puncher like you, huh?” She peeled up the material and inhaled sharply at the bruises that had to be blooming on his skin. “A rib-kicker also. Wasn’t that your signature move?”
“He has far too many of my moves, but he punched my ribs, didn’t kick them.”
“Nice to know.”
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to see a stranger with your face? Your voice? To know that someone else was made out of the same fucking DNA, and they’ve been walking around all these years and you had no idea?” He jerked away and threw his legs over the opposite side of the bed
, then shoved both hands through his hair. “I need a shower.”
She rubbed his back. “Probably a good idea to clean up before Li sees you.”
He let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, we have a show. Perfect timing.” He dragged himself up and turned toward her, extending a hand. “Don’t suppose you’d be interested in sharing some hot water?”
It took her a minute to accept his hand, but she finally crawled across the mattress, tucked her fingers into his palm, and rose with him. “Don’t think this means you’re off the hook.”
“Never.”
“I’m serious.” She pulled him to a halt. “I was really scared. I didn’t know if I should go after you—if I could even track you down—or leave you alone. I was afraid of what I’d find.”
“I understand that. I just didn’t even think, Violin Girl, or consider what it might seem like. It was as if I was on auto-pilot.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Dumb, thoughtless auto-pilot. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Unless you go on dumb, thoughtless auto-pilot again?”
“Nah, that setting has been factory disabled.” He gave her a light nudge toward the bathroom. “C’mon, before Dragon Lady comes over here and demands to see my condition.”
“I’m sure Nick already told her. Probably gleefully, since you both enjoy bringing each other pain.” She shook her head and squeezed his hand before aiming for the bathroom. “Tell me why I didn’t become a lesbian again?”
“Because of my irresistible charm?” He smiled for her sake when she turned toward him and made a c’mere gesture to beckon him forward. “Maybe a little pity?”
“Second is more likely.” She stripped him quickly and efficiently, stacking clothes on the counter. His shirt had a tear in it. Didn’t even know when that had happened. Fucking fight was a blur like the conversation that had come after.
Just that piece of paper was clear. So damn clear.
“Simon,” Margo said softly, and that single word was his undoing. He dropped his chin to the top of her head as she ran careful hands over him, smoothing away the aches, creating a whole new one in his belly and below with her gentle touch.
She tipped back her head, meeting his eyes. “Is it better or worse that you know? That you saw him in the flesh?”