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After hitting the end button, she made herself check her other texts and calls.
She’d missed one from her little sister. Her very preggo sister. Jules was firmly in her third trimester and so adorably round that Margo couldn’t help patting her belly every time she saw her.
It wasn’t like Jules to call this early. She called her back before her brain fully engaged.
Jules answered on the second ring. “About time.”
“Are you okay? Is it the baby? You’re not having contr
actions, are you?”
“Whoa there, take a breath. No, I’m fine. The baby’s fine. Staying inside and cooking properly just like he or she should.” Jules paused. “Are you all right? You sound weird. Not to mention you didn’t leap on your phone at six like you normally do. I know you were up.”
“I wasn’t. Not today.”
“Ohhh. Late night? Early morning,” Jules teased. “Both?”
“A little from column A. None from column B. My husband isn’t even here.” The frustration—and fear—leaked out, despite the lid she tried to shove down on her jagged emotions.
Since what had happened at the Warning Sign concert last fall, she’d been far more on edge. If she couldn’t find Simon or anything didn’t line up just so, her nerves went into overdrive. Not surprising, considering what had went down. And all they’d lost.
Her sister and Tristan had lived that reality more than anyone else.
“Understandable that he’d need to blow off some steam after last night.” Jules whistled. “Shock of the century, huh? I can’t imagine if I hadn’t known about you all these years and then one day, you showed up plain as day on TV—”
“Wait. No. It can’t be about that. He wouldn’t just take off first thing in the morning over that.” Margo rubbed her hand over the unwrinkled, ice cold sheets. “Or in the middle of the damn night.”
After he’d fucked her into unconsciousness. Don’t want any witnesses for what was sure to be a bloody battle.
Possibly even literally.
“Who knows how you would react to something like that?”
“Wait a second.” Margo pinched the bridge of her nose, her mind whirling faster than she could keep up with. “How do you know about it?”
Surely the news hadn’t traveled across the pond yet.
Duh, of course, it had. One way or another. Google was twenty-four/seven. Nothing stayed low-key for long, especially not when it had been blasted on national television. Every music and entertainment source would’ve been all over that piece of info.
Had Simon seen the news on his phone before he went to sleep? Was that what had driven him out?
“Oblivion/Warning Sign network,” Jules informed her. “Nick told Elle, Elle told Mal, who told Michael, who told West, who told Lo, who told…well, everyone. Not to mention it’s all over the tabs and the gossip sites. I even got an alert in my inbox this morning from US Weekly.”
Margo rubbed her forehead. No wonder Simon hadn’t been able to just roll over and nod off. If she’d been thinking clearly, she would’ve known that. What he’d heard and seen had rocked his world.
And she’d been focused on the show, and their amazing chemistry on stage—and off—and how tired she was, and making sure she got enough rest. It wasn’t just about her anymore.
She should have known. Simon had been like a wild man last night, and it wasn’t merely a happy coincidence. While she’d understood the Ian news had fueled his behavior, she’d just rolled with it as if she truly believed Simon would just stand by and wait for news from Li.
That wasn’t her husband. Would never be.
God, she just hadn’t thought. Now who knew where he’d gone off to? And what he’d gotten himself into, in a foreign country with no security.
He knew better. Goddammit, after Randy and all the security breeches last fall, he had to know. That threat had been eliminated, but new ones were always popping up. He couldn’t take those kinds of risks.
She slid her hand over her flat belly. Not now, especially.
“Margo?”
