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Simon’s mother sighed wearily. “I’d hoped this meeting would be different. But I had to protect him, see? I couldn’t run the risk. I loved him then and still do. And I know how much he values you.” Her fingers tangled in Margo’s hair and her grip tightened. “A mother always knows what her son needs.”
“How could you do this to him? He needs me. Me and—” Margo cut herself off, but the grip changed.
Too late.
It was all too late.
“And what? Come now, tell your mother-in-law your secrets,” Simon’s mother murmured. “We’re family, after all.”
Two
The little girl was swinging on an old tire hung from a big thick tree. Twin dark ponytails streamed down her back, tied off with pink ribbons. She was laughing, glancing back as Margo pushed her higher. Not enough.
“Go faster.” She pumped her tiny legs, flailing them as her cheeks turned red with exertion and impatience.
Margo sighed. “You’re going fast enough, Raine.”
“Daddy, you. You do it, Daddy.” She turned her head, looking over her shoulder at him, her big blue eyes hopeful. “You push me highest.”
“I don’t know, lemon drop. Your mama said no. And she’s the boss.”
“No, she isn’t. She isn’t even here anymore.”
He turned to where Margo had stood beside him. There was only an empty space. The wind kicked up, rustling the grass, and he shifted back toward the swing and his little girl.
She was gone too. The swing twisting in the breeze.
Simon turned around again, panic grabbing him around the throat. What the hell? Where had they gone?
His family.
His life.
His world, shattered in an instant.
“Simon. Simon, wake up.”
That voice. Normally, it was arrogant with that hint of a British accent. Stronger now. Just a rasp, thick and deep.
“Simon. You need to wake up now.”
Simon jerked up, his fingers fumbling for purchase. The slick acrylic surface beneath his palms made him frown. A table. Gray and utilitarian. Plush chairs.
Jesus, he was sitting at a conference table at Ripper Records.
His eyes were bleary and hot, a sure sign he hadn’t rested long. But he was at work, for fuck’s sake. Why was he sleeping at all?
All at once, it all rushed back at him. Talking to his wife on the phone, first while she readied for her realtor appointment and then a little while later in the car as she drove to their house. It wasn’t theirs yet, but it would be. It was meant. All of this was. Them, the baby, the house. Margo laughing. Telling him she needed to go because Lila was calling.
Then her screams and the horrible cacophony of noises that made no sense. Him calling her name, begging
her to answer. Just silence.
Until there were other sounds. A door opening. A man’s voice. “She’s unconscious.”
After that, nothing. Just Simon shouting into a phone that wasn’t answered. A moment later, the call disconnected.
He hadn’t been able to race to the scene fast enough. There hadn’t been time to tell anyone what had occurred, if he’d even understood. He’d just gone out to the parking lot to grab his car, then remembered he’d had a driver pick him up that morning. Fuck. Margo had his car. She had her own too, but she liked to drive his—
