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“They don’t know that yet. But trust me, you still have enough to get them flinging their panties at you. And newsflash? Hair grows.”
“Wait. Turn that down. I can’t think with that racket.”
He turned it off and somehow the silence was even more deafening.
“You said you were jealous? Did I imagine that? I must have. I’ve been on a train—well, multiple trains—for what feels like years, and—”
“Yeah, I’m jealous. You sound great with him. But you sounded great with me too.”
I frowned. I couldn’t take all this in. Couldn’t process what I was hearing. “You’re better than me now vocally. You have a skill I can’t imagine matching. But I’ll get better.” I dragged air into my lungs. “And I really want to sing with you again.”
It was pressing my luck, and I knew it. I also knew the chances of him agreeing—whether or not he was truly jealous of me singing with Flynn—were slim. But I had to tell him the truth.
I’d lied for far too long.
Simon moved back to the window and pressed his hand to the glass. He didn’t speak for so long I gave up believing he would. I bent to grab my bags, prepared to let myself out, when he finally responded.
“I didn’t want a brother. Not anymore. When I was a kid, yeah, maybe. A sibling would’ve been nice. But after I grew up, I had my brother. I had Nicky.”
I nodded, still bent over, still gripping the straps of my bags. That I understood all too well.
“But I also didn’t want a kid. Or so I thought. And now she’s one half of my fucking world. So.” He turned to me and crossed his arms. “We’ll see what we see.”
I rose and clutched my bags to my chest. It was possibly the most halfhearted agreement in the history of them. But I would take it and fucking run.
Literally.
Until my sister-in-law stepped into the room and held up her hand. “What your brother meant to add is that if you don’t have a place to stay tonight, we have room. Especially now that half our stuff is at our new house. Don’t we, Simon?”
Simon barely grumbled. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Whatever.”
I grinned. “Really? I can stay?”
Margo smiled and like the perfect hostess, swept forward to take my bags. I immediately yanked them back.
“You’re pregnant,” I protested.
“So I can’t carry two bags? Sheesh. You’re no better than your brother. Your brother,” she repeated, her eyes locking with mine. “And you do have a place at the table. Ours.”
I blew out a breath, remembering the conversation in her hospital room. “Thank you for that. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Though fair warning, if you’re here, you’ll probably get to help us pack. We have a ton left to do.”
I flexed my arm muscles. “I have a strong back. Put me to work.” I shifted my eyes to meet Simon’s. “I’ll go the distance.”
And I would. I’d finally stopped running away.
Now I was running toward.
Twenty-Three
I left bright and early the next morning, when Simon and Margo were still asleep. I’d told them of my early flight the night before, so I just scrawled a quick note thanking them for their hospitality.
It had included hours of packing Simon’s threadbare death metal T-shirts, but whatever. I’d enjoyed that window into his life.
I was greedy for glimpses of my family. Margo had even let me touch her belly while the baby kicked. She was a little spitfire.
Life moved on. For them, and maybe for me too.
