“Overkill?” Bubba teased without any real challenge, and I snorted.
“It’s been over a month.” And we’d done our best to stay busy. I’d taken a couple of meetings with my grandfather just to occupy myself. Coop had started volunteering at a local shelter to get out of the brownstone, and he’d voluntarily joined Bubba and I for runs.
Something we’d done every single day. Coop joined us four days after we arrived, and we all got it. I hated—hate—her being so far away. That wasn’t going to change. Jake needed her, and we talked to her constantly, but it wasn’t the same. Bubba had actually taken some calls with potential producers and the entertainment attorney. He’d also put them all on hold until Frankie and Jake were back.
As far as I was concerned, they could stay on fucking hold for a while. The ache of missing her last summer had been painful. The last few weeks though? These had been brutal and not because we were worried about when we were seeing her again, but more because it felt like I was actively missing a piece of myself.
The cats seemed to feel the same way, as had Jeremy. Though it amused the fuck out of me that Frankie’s room, the bedroom on the top floor, was only cursorily set up because we wanted to make sure it was done her way.
We had added a sofa and chairs up there, so it was almost the perfect studio flat, save for the lack of kitchenette, and Coop had been the one to suggest adding a coffeemaker for when she went into hard study mode. Bubba countered though that we would need to make sure we set up regular meals then more than ever.
Jeremy had simply told us to continue with the rest of our work and he would handle dinner schedules and making sure we all ate adequately healthy meals on time. Since he’d also stocked the wine fridge with Frankie’s favorites, I suggested leaving it in his capable hands.
We hadn’t told her yet that Jeremy would also be managing the house here, but it was almost eight thousand square feet, four floors, and a full school schedule. Looking after the five of us would be a full-time job, and Jeremy’s genuine thrill at being asked hadn’t been lost on me. He was officially on my payroll now, even if he had been paid out of one of my trusts for the past two years.
While we’d been traveling, he’d finished the arrangements to move our personal items and selected pieces of furniture and electronics into the brownstone after verifying that it was ready for us. I’d debated hiring a service to handle the decorating, but Jeremy, along with the guys, all scolded me on that idea.
We would decorate it when Frankie was there and not a day before. The only rooms truly furnished and ready were the dining room and kitchen, as well as Jeremy’s room and the formal salon that none of us were likely to ever use unless we had a party.
So probably never use, but it was also a room Jeremy could enjoy as well. The rest of us would live upstairs. The game room was set up, and the bed I’d ordered for Frankie’s room, the one I’d been waiting to get since we’d all but moved into her apartment, had arrived the day before we’d come home and now it just waited for Frankie.
“Arch,” Bubba said, and I cut him a look. “Your leg is bouncing like mad. Relax.”
Fuck. I frowned and shifted in the seat. I usually played it a lot cooler than this. “You know what, I don’t even care. I have fucking missed her, and it would be really nice if we could get out to Queens faster.”
The driver glanced back at us. “Sorry, sir. There’s an accident on the FDR. We’ll be passing it soon, and I can make up time.”
“It’s fine,” I told the man. The flight had another fifty minutes before it landed. We just wanted to be right there when they exited the private passenger terminal. It had taken some time to get used to being in the big city again, an entirely different pace of life, and I was so fucking eager to get Frankie here.
The night life, the theatres, the restaurants, and the access to so many different international offerings atop the museums and the fact this was a city that never slept? Oh yeah, I was ready for this.
Both of our phones buzzed when we were still ten minutes out. The flight had landed early. Our driver made good on his promise and made up the time. We were pulling up at the private terminal just as Frankie texted to say customs had cleared them and they were on their way outside. I handed Bubba one bundle of roses while I gathered up the other, and we were both standing outside the car when she strolled out into the sunshine.
The humidity faded along with the scents of exhaust and the roar of the planes overhead. Everything faded except the bright smile on her face, the roll of her hips as her stroll turned into a hop, a skip, and then a run. Bubba and I both stepped forward, and then Frankie was hugging us both, and I felt more than saw his shudder echoing my own as I buried my face against her neck.
She was home.
It was about fucking time.
Ian
We didn’t linger at the airport, but for the first time in what felt like years, the gradual spin of my world on its axis shifted and then righted again as Frankie appeared from the interior of the airport. I’d managed expectations and missing her by channeling all of it into the music. I must have written a dozen songs since we’d
