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“Yeah. Yeah, I could do that.” I smiled and opened the door. “See you when I see you, Frank. Thanks for not holding a grudge.”
“Who says I ain’t?” But he smiled as he got out to help me with my bags.
Hmm. I couldn’t go into my brother’s place with all these bags as if I was some hobo. Should I have Frank wait?
I should have him wait.
But he’d already set my guitar case and other bags on the cement and was signaling to drive away.
So, hobo it was.
Carting all my worldly belongings on my back, I went to the front desk and wisely asked for my sister-in-law to be notified I was in residence.
The chances of Simon allowing me admittance were zero plus zero equals hahaha.
Margo buzzed me upstairs without so much as a polite question what the fuck I was doing there.
If Simon hadn’t married her and I didn’t already have the most wonderful woman to love, I might’ve been smitten.
I took the lift to the penthouse, trying to seem as cool as possible when I had over my shoulder an ancient knapsack and a cheap bag I’d picked up at the bazaar. On the opposite side, I carried my old guitar case covered in stickers.
The stickers were mostly courtesy of Rory. The lot of them were unobtrusive, other than the giant pink lips he’d affixed that said blow me one last kiss.
I couldn’t decide if I loved or hated that man. He was probably lucky he’d taken off just hours before me, leaving before I could say a proper goodbye. His parting shot had been a text that read, “see ya around, sucker.”
&n
bsp; Naturally, I’d texted back, “Not if I see you first.”
I got out on the top floor and smothered a low groan at the understated opulence that surrounded me. Before I could unglue my tongue from the floor, Margo came toward me and I nearly goggled at the state of her belly.
Oh, she wasn’t huge yet. Far from it. I just wasn’t expecting it to be so…well, obvious.
How would Zoe look if she were carrying my child? Would she have that same glow about her, that same serenity in her smile?
With a little extra added crazy, since she was my Zoe.
“You can stop staring at my stomach now. I know I’m far bigger than when you saw me last.”
“You’re a vision. Simon is a lucky, lucky man.”
“And you are a charmer, especially with that accent of yours.” Skirting around my guitar case, she drew me in for a quick hug, along with a cheek air kiss.
I didn’t expect the warm reception and didn’t know how to respond. So, I stood there rather like a statue and tried to swallow as she drew back.
“You’re not used to hugs,” Margo said quietly, cupping her elbows. “I’m sorry for that. I wasn’t either, before Simon.”
“No, I’m not, but it’s not only that. I can’t figure how you can be so accepting of me. I appreciate it so much, but I’m—”
“Save the ‘I’m not worthy’ act, would you? My wife’s violins are packed away already and I’m not of a mind to dig them out.” My brother stalked forward wearing a towel and a glower.
The towel explained why Margo had granted me entrance so easily.
Margo rolled her eyes and took my hand to drag me deeper into the apartment, if it could even be called that. All the flats in my building back in London didn’t equal half of this square footage.
“Let’s just not do this, all right? He’s your brother, Simon. You only have one. You didn’t even know of him for all these years, and you really wish to waste more?” Margo let go of me and I had to admit I missed the secure clasp of her hand. She was not a woman who suffered fools, that much I could tell already.
Simon stared stubbornly out the floor to ceiling windows of the living room, his towel dipping to about three inches from indecency.
