When love’s not just a thing I sing about,
And I’ve got someone I can’t live without.
So let them talk all day, say what they like,
And turn my life to chatter.
Like ordinary miracles don’t matter.
They’re objects in the rearview,
much smaller than they seem,
when I know for sure I’m living my dream.”
The last notes of the song I’d finished just that afternoon vibrated out of my guitar, drifted in the humid air for a beat, then drifted up past the paper lanterns hung around the patio and disappeared into the constellations that lit the night sky over Whispering Key.
For half a second, there was utter silence, and I wondered, “Did I get it right? Did I fuck it up? Did they understand?”
Then Fisher’s Wreck erupted into enthusiastic applause, and my own personal friends-and-family cheering squad in the front of the bar whistled and catcalled loud enough to be heard all the way over on Cooter Key.
“You guys are amazing. Thank you so much for coming out!” I grinned in relief and excitement. “Now I’m gonna take a little break—"
“Jay Rollins! You made me cry, but I freakin’ love you!” Mason shouted with the sloppy enthusiasm of a beloved (and slightly overworked) island doctor who’dfinallyhired a second physician for Whispering Key Medical just a few months before and could now partake of craft beers with his boyfriend every other weekend.
“Yeah, get your ass over here so we can buy you a drink!” Fenn called. His eyes were suspiciously shiny as he pressed a tender kiss to the side of Mason’s head and draped a possessive hand over his man’s shoulder.
A teary-eyed Fenn was a rare sight. It wasn’t often that my lyrics snuck beneath his sarcastic hide and hit the tender spot in his heart where Mason lived, but it looked like this song had managed it… which was all the confirmation I needed that it was good.
Toby, who’d stood up halfway through the second verse to sway on his Gucci sandals while holding the LED candle from the table centerpiece in the air like a lighter at a rock show, now cupped his hands around his mouth, leaned over the table, and yelled way too loudly, “Have babies with me and Beale, Jay! Hypnotically talented, ridiculously competent, tree-sized, stylish babies!”
Beale smiled softly as he dragged his slightly-more-than-slightly inebriated boyfriend down into his lap, and then he whispered something in Toby’s ear—possibly explaining how babies were actually made… or, given the way his whisper made un-blush-able Toby turn the color of tonight’s sunset, maybe an invitation to go home and practice baby-making anyway, biology be damned.
My grin widened. I loved these guys so damn much. They were the family I’d always wanted, and I was thankful for them every single day.
No lie, though, I was especially thankful for them every other Saturday when I played a couple of sets at Fisher’s Wreck. Bobo Fisher poured drinks notoriously heavy for us locals, and my friends were not shy about partaking or about expressing their enthusiastic support for me while they did.
They were the best audience I’d ever played for.
From the next table over, Aimee, who’d flown in just that morning for her fifth visit this year, informed everyone, “That’s my brother up there!” with as much pride as if I were headlining Madison Square Garden instead of a tiny bar on a Florida island. She’d been my first fan and remained my truest.
Beside her at their table, Dr. Babe watched her with the same warm, loving look he’d worn the first day I met him—the one that said Aimee was infinitely important to him, which madehimimportant tome. So important that when he’d decided to propose to her this past June, Rafe and I had flown in an actual airplane to Denver, road-tripped to Yellowstone National Park (because road-tripping was our thing now), then hiked seven milesuphillto the top of Mt. Washburn, just so we could surprise them with a song and some biodegradable confetti. The fact that Aimee was the only one of us four who wasn’t breathless or tired after the hike had told me everything I needed to know about her health progress, and the way she’d beamed with happiness the whole way down told me more than I needed to know about how solid her relationship with Dr. Ba—I mean,Dave—was.
It was hard not to appreciate a man who made my sister feel safe by making her feelempowered, rather than rolling her up in bubble wrap.
In fact, I was really hoping Dave would decide to move his research facility to Florida at some point, maybe even before the wedding. I mean, the cost of living on the Key might not be quite as low as in Wyoming, but I knew for a fact that the two biggest donors to his clinic would be more than willing to help defray his relocation costs. (Or at leastIwas, and I was reasonably certain I could convince the other guy, too, since there wasn’t a lot Rafe wouldn’t agree to if I straddled him in bed and refused to ride his dick until he saidyes.) I also happened to know the new preschool on the island was looking for a director with a master’s in early childhood education, which my sister was only a semester away from obtaining.
Not to mention, the island had something Aimee and Dave would never be able to find anywhere else—free babysitting for my niece, who was on track to make her appearance in January.
All I could do was present these true facts, though. I wouldnotpush the issue in a big-brother-knows-best (or favorite-uncle-knows-best) sort of way, because Aimee was smart enough to make good choices, and I was smart enough to let her.
Mostly.
Ahem.
“Get your butt down here and gimme a hug, Rollins!” Aimee commanded.
I unhooked my guitar and started to comply, but first I reflexively searched the crowd for one other face—the most important face, the one I sought in every crowd—even though I knew I wouldn’t find it until sometime during my second set. Rafe never missed my bimonthly shows at the Wreck, but that evening, he’d had a schmoozy dinner meeting with some guys from the state about rebuilding the Whispering Key Bridge, and he wouldn’t make it until later.
