Page 45 of Not So Happily Ever After (British Bad Boys)
He blinks at me in that familiar, absent-minded way he has. “No.” He sounds bemused, not worried, and I let out a jagged breath. “I’m not sick, Mackenzie.”
The adrenaline pumping through me goes into free fall, and I have the alarming urge to laugh. Like, hysterically laugh until I vomit. Instead, I press my free hand against Dad’s chest, and the steady beat of his heart helps center me.
No one speaks. My ragged breathing slows. Clarity crawls through the black terror in my brain, pushing it back to the shadows.Dad’s not going to die.
Self-consciously, I release my death grip on his hand.Well, that was embarrassing.Thank God I’m going out tonight so I have an excuse to escape upstairs to get ready. Not that Ineedan excuse, obviously.
Except…
My glance flashes between the two of them. Something still isn’t right. “Why are you back early? I thought you were away until tomorrow.”
They exchange a look I don’t understand, silently communicating with each other. Since when have they ever done that? An uneasy shiver slides along my spine.
“There was a breach in security,” Margo says.
“Oh no. Was anything taken?”
“Not that kind of breach. It was a photographer.”
“That sucks.” Still not sure why that would cause them to cut short their break. “Did Duke shove their camera down their throat?” I’m guessing they were trying to get an undercover shot of Duke, but although he encourages publicity for his activism, he has a real love-hate relationship with the paparazzi.
“It wasn’t Duke they got a shot of.” Margo avoids my eyes, which isn’t like her at all. Direct is her middle name. Obviously, some scandal is about to hit the fan, but I can’t even remember who else was going with her this weekend. And if the politician she was after was caught with his pants down, well, so what?
Unless Margo was involved?Holy fuck, no way. She’s far too professional to do anything like that.
“I should’ve talked to you before, sweetheart. But I could never find the right words.”
My gaze slides back to my dad. Is thatguiltdripping from him? What’s he trying to tell me?
“Your dad and I were concerned that you might’ve seen the photo online.” Margo’s standing next to Dad. Not touching, but pretty damn close for two people who arejust good friends. “That’s why we came back early. But it seems you haven’t.”
What online photo?
My hands shake as I grab my phone. I type in their names, and the screen fills with an image of two people locked in an embrace. My father and Margo. I blink, but the image doesn’t change.
That’s my dad.My imagination scrabbles into dark, horrifying corners, and I slam down the hatches before I’m totally traumatized.
“This isn’t the way I wanted you to find out.” Dad gives me a sad smile, and I literally can’t speak.He and Margo are together?How didn’t I know this?How long have they been more than just friends?
“We didn’t want to hurt you,” Margo adds in a gentle voice, as though she expects me to fall apart or something. “We understand this is a huge shock.”
I hitch in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It doesn’t help much. “Do Harry and Lucas know?” They can’t. If I didn’t, how could they—unless Dad’s already told them?
“I don’t think so,” Dad says. “They haven’t said anything, and I haven’t had a chance to call them yet. Are you all right, sweetheart?”
“Sure.” I nod and cross my arms as though that’s going to help keep my shattered thoughts together. “So, how long have you, um…” I can’t even ask.I can’t evenbelieveit.
“About eight months.” Dad takes Margo’s hand, and I can’t tear my shocked gaze from their entwined fingers.Eight months?Were they ever going to tell us if they hadn’t been caught doing—whatever they were doing which I don’t want to think about—on camera?
“Why…” I clear my throat. “Why did you keep it a big secret?”
“I know how much you miss your mum,” Dad says. “We all do. That’s never going to change.”
“I loved her, too, Mac,” Margo says softly. “I miss her every day.”
Not as much as I do.I bite my tongue. No way am I saying that out loud. Even if it’s true.
There’s nothing else to say, and I make my way to my room. I need to conference-call my brothers and let them know what’s happening. But once I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed, I can’t even do that straight away.
