Songbird
FRANKIE
I’m up in Joe’s old apartment, alone and grumbling in front of the mirror while I try to get this damn bowtie right. I can hear chatter and music coming from downstairs while Daphne and the rest of the staff get the bar ready for the grand re-opening.
I’ve got a YouTube tutorial open, following step by step, and still I’m struggling.
“Shit!”
As if on cue, the door swings open behind me right as I fumble the fabric for what’s gotta be the 50th time. I crane my neck, expecting to find Daphne prepped to tell me to hurry my ass up, but instead I’m met with a pair of big brown eyes behind a set of horn-rimmed glasses.
“Logan?” I laugh. “Holy shit, I didn’t think you were gonna make it!”
I sent him the text a couple of days ago as a bit of a hail-mary, but I didn’t think he’d be able to get out of his conference.
“Wouldn’t miss the big day for the world, pal, especially after you so rudely kept us from your actual nuptials. That said…” He steps aside, revealing a breaming Roman Burke in all of his salt-and-pepper glory. “Check out my plus-one.”
I toss the tie aside and rush them both. I didn’t have siblings growing up, but the Emerald Bay Crew? That’s my family; has been for years now.
“It’s so good to see you guys. Feels like it’s been forever.”
“Good to see you too, brother,” Roman nods. “And congratulations, by the way.”
“How was Italy?” I ask.
His eyes twinkle.
“Exhausting, but fun, although I think if you asked Imogen, she’d tell you it was perfect. She’s downstairs showing off the rock right now.”
“That thing looks like it could sink the Titanic. Again.” Logan chuckles at his own joke before nodding at my discarded bowtie. “You need some help with that thing, big guy?”
Given the fact that my phone is still playing the YouTube tutorial, and loudly, it would be nearly impossible to save face at this point.
“You know what? Sure. At least you can’t make it worse.”
I follow him over to the dresser, standing in front of the mirror while Roman takes a seat on the bed, the metal frame whining beneath his weight.
“So, already married, huh?” He asks, glancing around the room. “I’m gonna be honest, with you, Francis, you’re the last one of us I figured would get hitched. I’m pretty sure I heard you say you’d stay single forever, on more than one occasion.”
If there’s one thing I know to expect, it’s Roman giving me shit. It’s gotta be one of his favorite hobbies, although there’s no chance it matches up to his true passion.
“Listen,” I chuckle. “We can’t all snag a girl just by dressing up as a cowboy 24/7. Besides, it really did just start out as a favor to Daphne. Not sure when that changed, but…”
“Feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I smile, smoothing out my suit jacket as Logan puts the finishing touches on the tie. “But what about you? When are you and Iggy tying the knot?”
“Soon,” he replies. “I’m thinking of taking her up to my parent’s old ranch in Montana. The new owners are friends of the family, and… I dunno, something about it just feels right.”
“Maybe you can ask Daphne to sing at the wedding!” Logan chirps, stepping back and admiring his handiwork. “After all, she is your number one artist on Spotify, five years running.”
Roman’s cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink.
I remember years back when I first mentioned Daphne and I went to school together, he flooded me with a torrent of questions, most of which I tried my best to deflect.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys earlier,” I sigh. “I wanted to, it’s just—”
Logan scoffs, taking off his glasses to clean them on his shirt.
“Don’t worry, the second Imogen saw you in those HotGoss posts we all kinda figured this was where things would end up.”
It still stings a little to know I left them out of the loop. Even on my best days I’m not so great at being open, at least not about my own issues, but it really was all about protecting Daphne.
“For the record, I haven’t been reading the group chat,” Roman replies with a shrug. “Unlike these jokers, I actually respect your privacy.”
“Sure,” I snicker. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that the first time we started one it took you two days to figure out how to join, right?”
Roman raises his eyebrows, the faintest smile playing on his lips as he flips me off.
“Got you a wedding present. You like it?”
I snort.
“I know it’s the thought that counts, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t on our gift registry. You still have the receipt?”
“Knock knock!”
Daphne’s sugary voice immediately puts an end to whatever else was going on, as we all turn to find her leaning against the doorframe. She’s in a deep plum-colored slip dress that hugs every single curve on her body, a goddamn smoke show.
“I don’t mean to interrupt the reunion, but the band is here, and we’ve got a big crowd lined up outside who are dying to get in.”
She scheduled some photographers to come by for the event, so we’re gonna have to do a couple photo ops, but then it’s drinks, dancing, and watching her and Revolver tear down the house.
“Let us get out of your hair then,” Roman replies with a nod, patting me on the shoulder.
The two men make their way out, but they’re stopped short by Daphne shifting her position in the doorway.
“I wanted to thank you both for coming, and I’m sorry to break up the boys club,” she says softly. “I promise you’ll be getting Frankie all to yourselves once the party starts.”
“Oh, um, thank you, Ms. Carmichael,” Roman stammers, his entire cool and controlled persona slipping away in a heartbeat.
“You’re Roman, right? Frankie mentioned you’re a big fan of my work.”
“He’s got every single album you’ve ever released— maybe even some illegal bootlegs.” Logan chimes in, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
“And you must be Dr. Flynn,” Daphne grins, grasping Logan’s hand.
“If my wife told you anything incriminating, I plead the fifth.”
Roman rolls his eyes, already halfway back to his stoic-self, but I can’t stop snickering.
“No, nothing bad,” Daphne laughs. “We only got to chat for a couple minutes, but she did happen to mention you’re a karaoke superstar.”
Logan puffs out his chest.
“Well, I have been known to bust out some Bon Jovi from time to time.”
“Maybe we can duet later. After a couple beers, of course.”
“Y— yeah! Yeah, that’d be awesome!” Logan replies, a mix of excitement and fear in his eyes. “So long as Frankie comes up to do a song, too.”
“Twist my arm, why don’t you?”
Daphne flashes them a warm smile as they make their way out of the room, turning to face me the moment they’re out the door. Of course, my heart is in my throat all over again the second her eyes land on me, and I’m stuck wondering just how long she’s going to give me those butterflies.
Hopefully, for the rest of my life.
“That’s a smart looking bowtie, Goldilocks.” She grins. “Nice suit, too.”
“Thanks. It almost makes me feel like a real boy.”
She giggles, strutting toward me and wrapping her arms around the back of my neck.
“Are you ready to make our official debut as a married couple?”
“I just need to pinch myself first to make sure this isn’t a dream,” I smirk. “Oh hey, speaking of, last chance to reveal that this was all a sham to marry me for my vast wealth and holdings.”
“Oof.” Daphne winces. “You caught me. But actually, I’m already quite wealthy. I’m marrying you for your exceptional penis.”
“Double-edged sword, Firecracker. I may have a big dick, but it comes with a hell of a lot of credit card debt. I trust you’ll be taking care of that for me?”
She shoves me in the shoulder, her eyes sparkling.
“Asshole.”
“Too bad you’re so in love,” I grin, wrapping my arms around her waist, and pulling her close. “Cause it looks like you really are stuck.”
She sighs, kissing me softly.
“You’re right. No way out of that.”
“Daphneeeeeee!” Damien sings playfully up at us from downstairs. “We’re waitiiiiiing!”
I follow her down the stairs, fully taking in the whole place for the first time since its completion. It looks incredible fully fixed up, with a brand new bar, new seats, new lights… But most importantly? Someone worked some real magic, because my shoes aren’t sticking to the floor.
“Holy shit,” I laugh, glancing around. “I almost didn’t recognize the place.”
“Me neither, but I think grandpa would have loved it.”
I smile, taking her hands in mine.
“I’m sure of it, Daph. He’d be so proud seeing what you’ve managed to do with this place, and what you’ve done for—”
“Nice of you two to finally join the party, we’ve all been waiting!”
The voice of Damien Bell booms out of the microphone for the first time in years as he dominates the brand new stage, dressed in a navy suit, a pink tie, and with his salt and pepper hair effortlessly coiffed.
A couple of his bandmates playfully boo, another rolling his eyes as they all tune their instruments behind him, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“There’s still time, you know,” Daphne murmurs. “You married into what may be the weirdest family on the east coast, so no one would judge you if you decided to cut and run.”
The slow strum of a guitar begins, and I recognize the song instantly.
Songbird by Fleetwood Mac.
“You better get up there,” I grin. “They’re playing your song.”
I watch intently as she runs up and takes the stage.
Listening to those first few chords, and that melody.
Family’s what I’d been looking for my whole life, whether I knew it or not.
Now that I have that back, I’m not letting her go.
“You’ve got me locked in for life, Firecracker.”