EPILOGUE
“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have a camera to spy with. Don’t forget,” he says. I shoot him a glare over my shoulder, and he has the audacity to smirk at me.
We’re cramped in the tiny office of the comedy club in Boston where it all started. Kell picked West’s parents up from the airport this morning, and I’ve been keeping the biggest secret from my best friend for weeks.
“Oh my gosh, there they are!” West’s mom whisper-yells.
I fucking love West’s mom. I think Mel and I are going to get into some fun trouble together.
I lean down, resting my elbows on the desk, giving everyone else space to crowd in behind me.
It’s Friday the 13th, and West’s kicking off night one of the 48hrs Tour with a small and intimate first night, all because he wants to propose in the spot where he fell in love with Jo.
We can hear the start of their conversation, but right when it’s getting good, the audio cuts out.
I gasp and point at the computer, spinning to find Enzo standing with his arms crossed, cool as a fucking cucumber.
Kell scampers to the front, pressing every key on the keyboard like it’ll do something.
“You,” I hiss. “Turn it back on.”
Enzo purses his lips and shrugs his broad shoulders. “I promised West I’d let them have a little privacy.”
I take a few steps towards him and have to cock my head as far as it goes to meet his eyes.
I’m barely 5’0, but I don’t care how miniature he makes me feel, I’m not letting him ruin this for me.
“Enzo, I will toss you in the harbor with cement blocks tied to your ankles if you don’t turn the sound back—”
“You’re gonna miss it.” He nods towards the laptop.
I turn around just in time to see West drop to one knee on the stage.
Jo nods enthusiastically, and we all watch her mouth yes. She’s crying, I’m crying, Mel’s crying.
West slips the engagement ring onto her finger and stands to give her a kiss that makes me think of the last one I had with that much passion behind it…
Ben turns his head to give them privacy, Mel’s too busy crying to see anything, Kell’s cheering quietly, and Enzo actually smiles big enough to see his perfectly straight top row teeth.
He winks when he thinks he catches me staring, but I wasn’t even staring! Not really.
The sound clicks back on, and West says, “okay, Enzo, you can come out now.”
I don’t wait to hear Jo’s surprise before I’m running down the hall to the small stage. She squeals when she sees me, and as soon as I give her a quick squeeze, I grab her hand. “Oh my fucking god, Westifer, you brilliant, perfect man!”
He hadn’t shown anyone the ring, even though I’d threatened to ruin the whole surprise if he didn’t let me see. He didn’t, and I wouldn’t.
“Right?” Jo’s smile is bigger than I’ve ever seen it, and I’ve never in my life been so happy for her.
West told us all he wanted Joey to be the first one to see it, and how are we supposed to argue with that? He’d given a good enough description, but it’s better than I think any of us could have imagined.
The ring is an uncommon trapezoid shape, and the rock isn’t your average diamond either.
It’s a salt and pepper diamond with a smoky look through what I’m going to guess is close to three carats.
Way to go, JoJo! The prongs holding the diamond to the simple silver band look like the talons of a dragon.
It fits perfectly too, not an adjustment needed.
This ring was literally made and designed for Jo, by the man I knew loved her the second he laid eyes on her. Call it best friend’s intuition, but I had to get Jo to meet up with him… I had to see if my hunch was right.
It was!
I give Mel her turn with Jo when she’s finished hugging West, taking a step back to watch from the side.
Jo deserves this. She deserves happiness so loud and in her face she never feels lonely again. I feel my lips pull into a small smile, but then my own reality punches me in the gut.
I’m thirty and about to become a failed musician. I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do outside of this. I majored in musical theater only to find out I didn’t want to play other characters on stage for the rest of my life.
I want to be Frankie, not who I’m told to be.
I love my current band. Like, a lot. We all vibe so well together, and the music we’re writing is really good.
I’m not just saying that because it’s mine either. I’m saying that because I know it is. I’m a musician now, but before I became one, I was a young girl who always had her headphones in and was known for making the best mixed CDs in middle school.
Our sound’s not mainstream right now, and that might kill us before we get the chance to live. I mean, fucking hell, we don’t even have a band name yet, and it’s been almost five months!
The manager we went to play for after Thanksgiving told us she thinks we’re very talented, but she doesn’t see a place for us with our current sound.
This night is about Jo and West… Don’t fuck it up!
I let out a long breath through thin lips, hoping to expel the imposter syndrome making a home inside my brain.
“What’s the sigh for?” Enzo asks, startling me enough that I jump, hand flying to my chest.
“You’ve gotta stop sneaking up on people like that!
” For a massive guy, he’s entirely too quiet on his feet.
Crossing my arms, I try to relax now that I know it’s just him beside me.
I paint on a smile, hoping if I fake them long enough no one will be able to tell that I’m drowning in fear.
“The sigh was because there’s nothing in life that makes me happier than getting to say I told you so. ”
I can’t pay my rent. I’m about to lose my apartment. I’ll probably have to find a bartending job to make ends meet. Whatever it takes to not ask my parents for money… But hey! At least I get to say I told you so!
“Oh, believe me. I’m aware.” His accent is smooth, his voice deep with a songlike lilt that makes me want to listen to him speak for hours.
I don’t look over, not trusting myself not to stare at his lips. “And as usual, I was right. Actually, this.” I point at Jo and West. “Makes me right about a few different things.”
Enzo hums, and it draws my attention to the lips I’ve been avoiding since Philly. I’m met with his mischievous sideways smirk, my eyes jumping to his almost-black ones. “You know, that should be the band’s name.”
I raise a single brow, confused. “What should?”
“Told you so.” He says it, and I get the feeling I’ve been looking for. That OMG moment where it clicks and the name just feels right, like it’s been waiting there the whole time. “Because I guarantee that's what you’ll say when you accept your first Grammy.”