by Quinn, Cari
“I don’t know. I might not get it.”
“Of course you’re going to get it. You’re fucking flawless.”
She rose onto her toes cupped his face. “I love you, Simon. It’s the only thing I’m sure of.”
“Then stay with me.” He slid his palm around and under her shirt. “This is where you belong.”
She let him draw her in, let him seduce her closer, let him draw her farther into the apartment and down the hallway. And she finally drew him into her body, where she knew he belonged.
At least that part they could agree with.
Twenty-Two
The week was a whirlwind of practice and furniture shopping. She’d insisted on buying a few pieces, that made up the empty half of their bedroom. He’d gotten a California King to put on the crazy dais in his—their room. It felt like she was on a damn pedestal and was going to fall of the damn bed.
But the view out the window was certainly worth it. She’d played more than one sonata to the epic audience of the sun setting on the water. She caught Simon watching her practice a time or two, but his fingers seemed to be forever bunched into fists.
His last trip to the doctor’s had been a good one and now he had no excuse not to find a voice coach to start the road to recovery. The problem was, he seemed to make sure he was too busy to do anything but work.
“I’ll make an appointment later,” was becoming his favorite phrase.
She wasn’t quite sure how to help him there. Especially when she was hiding too. She’d learned the piece for the audition as well as the personal piece she was supposed to bring.
The personal piece was usually one that was a favorite from composers. She’d chosen one of her own that she’d put together with Deacon and Gray on the tour. They’d extended “The Becoming” to be an epic finale of the concerts. She’d started putting her own spin on the song and now it was just a little more her. Not just Oblivion with her flavor.
It held all the hallmarks of her style. And it really was the first thing she’d written. It made her itch to write more.
“Ready?”
She looked up as Simon stood in the foyer. “The traffic blows, even with your crazy driving.”
“I’m too nervous to drive.”
“I get to drive my car?”
“Yes.”
He stepped down into the living room and drew her out of her chair. “You’re going to be amazing. Your Strat is going to be amazing.”
“It’s not a guitar, Simon.”
He hooked an arm around her waist and drew her against him. “You know what I mean.”
She cupped his face. “You’re too much.”
He turned his face to nip the skin beside her tattoo. “You’ve got a good luck phoenix feather here, and a good luck phoenix here.” He fit her against his side. “You’ve got all the good luck vibes from the preggos’ call earlier. I heard it while I was in the shower.”
Margo huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I got a face chat from Jazz and Harper.”
“And Lila sent that monstrosity.”
She looked at their island in the kitchen. “Sunflowers. Sunny, perfect sunflowers.”
“Whatever. They’re huge.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
The trip into the city was crazy making. Too many cars and not enough road. The eternal problem with living in California. New roadwork was always sprouting out of the roads like really annoying concrete weeds. And today was even worse.
She looked at her watch. “We’re never going to make it.”
“We are. I’ll drop you in front and go find a spot.”
“We can’t even get on the street.”
“Get out.”
“What?” She snapped her gaze to his.
“Cut through there there and you’ll be across the street from the theater. Go!”
She scrambled out and then ducked back in even as the cars honked. She gripped his shirt and hauled him in for a kiss. It was hot and openmouthed. His taste infused her senses and his mint-tipped tongue, from his eternal stash of mints and gum, slid along hers before she let him go and slammed the door.
“Please don’t hit me,” she said in a singsong voice as she skidded through cars and across the street to the alleyway. She booked it through a parking garage that was a shortcut to the theater. Thank God, she’d learned to run in heels.
Thank you, Juliet.
Just as she got to the doors, she slowed to a walk and tucked her blouse back into her dress pants. She fixed her chain under the buttons. The piece of rockstar that she wore under the stuffy clothes. There was another violinist on the stage and her technique was amazing.
She took her seat and sank lower into the cushions. When her mother had told her she had an audition, she thought she’d been the only one. Later, she’d learned she was one of three. The other two had been playing in symphonies overseas and were looking to work in America.
“Margo Reece.”
She took her freshly tuned Stradivarius out of her case and stood. She went to the stage where three men and two women sat in the third row. She held up her violin to her chin and started the audition song. The chords were complicated and required every ounce of her skill.
But the song flowed. Her breathing steadied as her training and love for Vivaldi curled inside her.
When she let the violin fall to her side, she finally looked at her audience. There was absolutely no emotion on their faces. Was that good, or bad?
“What are you playing for us?”
Margo cleared her throat. “An original piece.”
The woman on the end made a small hmm noise. “You may begin.”
She heard a soft bird whistle and smiled. Simon was there in the back. She lifted her violin with a smile.
* * *
Simon sat at the back of the dark theater. There was a single spotlight on her and the acoustics of the place were like injecting music into his chest. He’d sneaked into the room when she was halfway through the first piece.
Seeing her play on a stage again had hit him like a sledgehammer. She was in the wrong uniform. Not in the all black, with her stockings and heels that made him nuts. This Margo was buttoned up like he’d first seen her.
Only he knew so much more about her now. Knew all the passion she kept inside back then. How much she’d shared with him now. But when the first strings of “The Becoming” came from the stage, his heart slammed.
He stood and paced up the walk. He wanted to run from that song. The song he’d been singing when he royally fucked up and bled all over the stage. The song that had given him Margo.
The song that had taken everything.
He bent at the waist and held his knees. His phone buzzed against his hip, but he ignored it. The song had been haunting before, but now it was a story unto itself and he wanted to sing it. Felt the words bloom in his throat for the first time in so goddamn long.
He gasped and dragged in a breath as she finished and one of the judges actually clapped. He wanted to howl for his girl. He paced the back of the theater as she thanked the judges or whomever they were. The people making the decisions.
The people that obviously had to take Margo after that performance.
She came up the walk with her case and he scooped her off her feet. “Fuckin’ A, girl.”
“Okay?”
“More than okay. Holy fuck.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Simon.”
“Fuck ‘em. They know that was fucking awesome.” He hauled her up and slammed his mouth over hers. “Amazing. And we’re gonna go sing it.”
“What?” She laughed and pulled him out of the room and into the hallway. “Where is this coming from?”
“Doc Connor said I was good to start practicing, but damn. I just—what if I suck?”
“Then you keep going until you don’t. That’s why you have to get a coach.
“I gotta try.”
“You need to see a coach.”
His hip b
uzzed again. “Jesus.” He dug it out and looked at the screen. “Well, we’re not going to do it right now.”
“Is everything okay?” She gripped his arm. “Baby?”
He nodded. “Baby. Harper’s at the hospital. Has been since last night.”
“She just freaking FaceTimed me.”
“Did she look like she was in labor?”
“No. How would I know? I don’t know anyone that’s done that crazy business.”
He laughed and kissed her temple. “I love you.”
“Shut up.”
“Sure, I say these heartfelt things and you tell me to shut up.”
“Ass.” She shoved him. “Did she have it already?”
He shrugged and looked at his phone. “I quote, ‘get your ass here, now’ end quote. That’s all I know.”
“Well, c’mon. Let’s go.”
They rushed out of the theater and to the parking garage she’d ran through. Simon had found a spot in there. The hospital wasn’t far from where they were and they met Jazz and Gray in the parking lot.
“I can’t believe it’s time.” Jazz squeezed Margo’s hands.
“I can’t believe you two FaceTimed me while she was in labor.”
“That was Harper. She said she had to give the good luck call. She was pretty high though, so that’s why she was so excited. Epidural.” She gravitated to Gray again, waddling beside him. “Good stuff. I’m totally getting one of those.”
“You don’t want to go all natural? With all the crazy food you’re doing?”
“Dude, pain. No. Hell, no. It’s bad enough I’ve got this bowling ball coming out of me.”
Gray kissed her forehead. “Whatever you say, babe.”
Simon linked his fingers with Margo as they got to the elevator. “Did she have the baby yet?”
“Oh, yeah. Didn’t you—oh. No, of course you didn’t. We were trying to hold off until your audition was over, but the kiddo said no.”
Margo laughed. “What’d did she have?”
“Girl.” Jazz shook her head. “I thought Nick was going to tell you.”
“Just told us to get our asses here,” Simon said.
“Typical.” Jazz rubbed her belly. “I was hungry. Harper’s resting a little between feedings and Deacon won’t put the baby down.”
Simon laughed. “None of this surprises me.”
“Wait till you see her. So tiny. I was justifiably afraid it was going to be a manster like Deak, but no. She’s a perfect six pounds eight ounces, I think? Something like that. Alexa Grace McCoy. She’s perfect. Did I mention that?”
“Maybe.”
She hugged Gray’s arm. “Just perfect.”
They got to the maternity ward and Nick was in the waiting room on his phone.
“Nice, fuckface. Couldn’t tell me the baby arrived?” Simon clamped a hand at the back of his neck.
Nick squinted up at him. “I’m sorry, were you here all night with us? No. No, you were not.”
“You didn’t call us,” Simon said.
“No excuse.”
Simon dropped into the chair next to him. Christ, he missed his best friend. None more than today when he’d finally heard music in his head for the first time. But right now it wasn’t about his music or his problems. They had to celebrate the first baby of the group.
“How did the audition go?” Jazz asked Margo.
Margo nodded. “Okay, I think.”
“Okay? She fucking rocked it.”
Margo folded her arms. “Hospital.”
“Yeah fucker, keep it modulated and quiet,” Nick said and punched his arm.
He really hated the word modulated. Ever since the surgery his voice had been lower. “Where’s this perfect kid?”
“My perfect kid? The perfect kid that my wife just had?”
Simon stood. “Look at you.” Deacon had scrubs on and some sort of skull cap for all his goddamn hair. He wasn’t aware they made scrubs big enough for Deacon, but there he was. “Did you have to order the scrubs?”
“Shut up. I’m holding the single most perfect angel on the planet and you ask me if I bought my scrubs.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
Simon laughed and looked down at the little pink bundle in his arms. “Man, she sure is tiny.”
“Tiny and perfect.”
Margo bit her lower lip and her eyes misted as she stood next to him. “Wow.”
“Totally makes you want one, huh?” Deacon asked.
“Nope.” Margo and Simon said in unison.
Twenty-Three
Simon put his feet up on the chaise end of the sectional. The entire evening had been shot with all the baby news and the baby happy. Nothing but baby. He had a feeling the entire world was going to be baby for awhile.
Margo dropped next to him on the couch. “Please tell me you were serious when you said no about a baby.”
“No.”
“Oh, thank God.”
He reached over and put his hand over her middle. “You don’t want a little me in there.”
She looked up at him. “Does it make me a bad person if I say no?”
He laughed. “No. I’m perfectly happy with this being the only little girl in my life.” Simon reached over his head to where George was perched and gave her a rub.
“Yeah. I can deal with a cat.”
George slipped between them and stretched over both of their laps, a contented purr buzzing as Simon scratched behind her ear.
“I made plans to sit in with the band in a few weeks. After things settle down with the baby.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh…” She reached over and tapped his chin. “You sure you’re ready?”
“Yeah.” He opened his palm and Margo settled her hand in his and they laced fingers. “It feels like I should try the first time with them. Just sit in and see if it feels good.”
She rested her cheek on his chest. “I’m glad you’re finally going to try.”
His gut had been churning since listening to Margo at the theater. “I’m going to wash the hospital off.” He lifted the cat and set her on Margo’s lap.
“Okay. I’ll make us something to eat.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. We sort of forgot to eat today.”
She rubbed her flat belly. “We did.”
“Okay, I’ll be out in a few.” He cracked his knuckles as he went down the hall to their master bathroom. Part of him was afraid to open his mouth. What if it sounded awful? Dr. Connor made him run scales in his last meeting and he’d managed to hold a note.
But it had almost cracked. He’d felt it. He hadn’t cracked, but it had been right there.
And then he’d had job upon job. He’d been so busy he’d been able to keep it at the back of his mind, but hearing Margo today. Hearing their music for the first time?
He’d never wanted it more.
Simon turned the shower to hot and made the first scale. He opened his lungs and kept his midrange steady without widening his cords. All the things that he did naturally had to be stuffed down according to the doc. And when he kept them relaxed, it felt good.
He switched on his shower radio. It had been built into the shower when he’d bought the apartment, but he sure as shit hadn’t turned it on before today. He scanned for the classic rock channel and Poison’s “Fallen Angel” blasted out of the speakers.
He slowly hummed. He’d only listened to garbage music for months now. Nothing that even resembled Oblivion. Finally, he sang along with Bret’s verse. He didn’t sing quite as high as Bret, but he kept the notes strong enough that he finished that song and followed it up with a Foo Fighters song.
The door to the bathroom slammed open and Margo opened the glass door of their shower. She stepped in, fully dressed and pressed him against the tile.
“You’re singing.”
“Well, I was.”
Her laughter filled the stall and he dragged her under the spray. �
��You sound awesome.” She squeaked as the water soaked her shirt.
“I totally deserve a reward.”
“For singing?”
He shrugged then nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“We have like five minutes left on the tater tots.”
He pushed his hard cock into her hand. “I’m fairly sure I can come in about five minutes.”
“Oh, hold me back, buddy.”
“I’ll make you come in two.” He stuffed his hand down her dress pants. “Dare me?”
“Don’t get cocky.”
He unhooked her dress pants and dragged them down her hips. “Oh, that’s it. You’re going to scream.”
* * *
Margo held onto the tile as the bathroom went spotty. She had her leg wrapped around Simon’s hip as he drove into her. One minute was a bit of a stretch, but he’d definitely finished her off in under three. She was still breathing heavy as he lifted her onto her toes and went so deep that she choked out a second scream.
“Jesus. You feel so fucking good,” he said against her ear. “Fuck,” he said in that low, low voice that was going to be the death of her. “You came, right?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I was pretty sure, but then you did that silent thing you do when you’re close.”
She scraped her nails down his back and a cracked moan came out.
“That one. Come again.” He rotated his hips. “For me.”
Her thigh quaked and she dug her nails into his ass. His guttural groan slid through her bloodstream like music. She came so hard that the water from the shower went silent, the room fuzzed and there was nothing but Simon.
He jerked against her and she wrapped her arms around him. Instead of nails, she smoothed her palm over his back and their breathing evened out and synched. He smiled down at her, his eyelashes dark and clumped with water. “Damn.”
“Yeah.”
He groaned and pulled out of her. “I guess that means I have to go save our dinner.”