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For a few blessed hours at least.
He shuffled her into the bathroom and they both swayed sleepily against each other under the hot water. The adrenaline drop after the show and spectacular sex was definitely taking its toll on his lovely wife. It should have done the same for him, but his brain was already filling with questions about Ian. The impossibility of him looming ever larger in his mind.
He blocked out the noise by playing caretaker to Margo. He so rarely was allowed to take that role. She was ever vigilant about taking care of her friends, as well as him. How many nights had she sat up with him while he was freaking out about his voice?
Too many to number.
He dried her off and settled her favorite sleep shirt over her head.
One of his.
Even through his own exhaustion, his cock stirred a little at seeing his very proper wife wearing one of his ripped-to-shit T-shirts. The soft curve of her breasts showed along the sides and her ass was…fuck. If she wasn’t about to literally fall asleep against his shoulder, he’d try to persuade her to go for another round. Maybe even sneak his way into her glorious ass.
That was usually reserved for their raunchiest nights, or the slow and soothing ones. Polar ends of the spectrum, that was them.
He snapped the sheet back and helped her into bed. He followed her down, curling around her back. When she pulled his arm into his shirt and between her breasts, he groaned into her wet hair.
“Are you okay?” she asked sleepily.
“Of course, why?”
She made a little humming sound. “I was worried about you tonight. After the show. Lila will find out what that’s all about. Promise.”
He tucked his chin over her shoulder and slowly stroked her neck. After a handful of years together, he knew just what she needed to go to sleep.
Because he definitely wasn’t ready to talk about Ian. Or the strangling anger that tightened up his shoulders to match his clenched jaw.
Not after such an incredible night.
“I love you, Simon. So much.”
He sucked in a breath. It still amazed him when she said those words. It hadn’t been an easy thing for her to come to grips with. It hadn’t been for either of them, but most especially Margo. Love had always been a twisted affair in her family. Duty disguised as love and fidelity. And then she went and fell in love with him, a man who never thought monogamy would be a word in his vocabulary.
With her, he not only wanted it, he’d been the one to initiate attaching a ring to it. She’d been understandably freaked out. Waiting her out had been a true lesson in patience.
“I love you too.” He breathed in her honeysuckle scent as she slowly relaxed against him and into sleep.
She was worth it. Beyond measure and then add in another lap of infinity.
But the stuff inside of him right now wasn’t about her. He had his own messed up feelings about family. But this didn’t compute. His old man had lived and died exactly the same way—mean. Simon had sucked it up because he had to, and now this little piece of shit wanted to use his name?
Not only use it, but to say it with such an offhand smirk. As if the little fuck hadn’t just set off a bomb in the musical corner of the fucking internet.
Simon’s head pounded. The soft light in their room fuzzed and black dots sprang up before he took a damn breath. Fucker.
He slowly withdrew his arm from Margo’s shirt. He had to know what the hell was going on after that stupid TV show. Was he putting more importance on what had happened than it deserved?
Only one way to find out. He reached back for his cell on the end table.
Margo turned in her sleep, following him to settle against his chest as he propped himself up on the pillow. “Simon?”
“Shh. I’m just checking messages.”
She blinked up at him with heavy eyelids. “Anything important?”
“Doubtful.”
“You need your sleep,” she said sleepily against his chest.
