1. Frankie

Chapter 1

Frankie

“ I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“You know you need a night out,” Toni loops her arm through mine and points her freshly manicured fingernail at me as we walk across the parking lot, heading toward the bar she’s dragging me to.

She’s not wrong. I do need a night out, a few hours to let my hair down, forget about all the troubles weighing me down, and hang out with my best friend… but if only my life were that simple right now.

“Don’t be getting sassy with me, sister,” she continues with her speech, the same one I’ve been getting for the last four hours.

“I’m not your sister,” I sass back, then stick my tongue out at her just because I can.

Toni has been my best friend since we were in the second grade. I had just moved to the neighborhood because my dad got a new job, so that meant a new school for me. That also meant a new teacher and new classmates, but it didn’t take Toni long to claim herself as my best friend. As soon as Mrs. Baumgartner showed me to my assigned seat, the one right next to Toni, my future was sealed. She stuck to my side as we walked to gym class, the cafeteria, library, and even the bus. It turned out she lived eight houses down from me, so wherever I went, Toni was right at my side. It’s been twenty-one years since that day and she’s still here.

Looking back, I don’t know what guardian angel was looking out for me that day, but I wish she was still with me now. Maybe I walked under too many ladders, or broke too many mirrors in a past life, because my luck lately has been pretty shitty.

“You should be my sister,” Toni snaps me out of my pity party daze. “It’s not like my sister is nice to me. That bitch has gotten on my last nerve.”

“What’d Senna do now?” We both roll our eyes thinking of her younger sister. She is the textbook definition of hot mess express, so it could be anything from stealing a car to jumping into Lake Michigan butt-ass naked.

“Oh, that bitch,” Toni is shaking with anger, but has an evil smile on her lips, “she showed up at my mom’s house sometime in the middle of the night last Sunday and left the twins sleeping on the couch. No call, no note, nothing. Mom came downstairs to go to work Monday morning and there they were, snuggled up together, sleeping away.”

“Good lord almighty.” I can’t help but roll my eyes again. “Thank God for your mom.”

“No kidding,” Toni pulls open the front door of the bar, holding it for me to walk in first. “Crazy bitch didn’t even leave any clothes for the girls either. Good thing my mom is a professional thrift shopper and buys stuff for them because she knows Senna doesn’t.”

“Can your parents adopt me? Is that a thing?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood. And we both know I could use a mother better than the one I have. “Can adults be adopted?”

Toni hops up onto the first available bar stool and swivels the one to her right around for me to sit. “I don’t know, but I can Google it if you want,” she chatters on as she pulls her phone and wallet from her purse, setting them both on the shiny, polished bar top.

“Nah, that’s okay,” I reply as I climb up next to her and take a look around the room. We’re two seats from the end of a long L-shaped bar that runs the entire depth of the establishment. “We can just pretend. Probably would be too much paperwork.”

“Ugh! Don’t even say the p-word to me tonight. I don’t want to hear or talk about work or responsibilities until Monday morning. I dragged you here kicking and screaming to have a good time.”

“Deal.”

Paddy’s Irish Pub. That’s where we are.

Located in the middle of a block, a few streets off a main road in Lombard, a suburb of Chicago, I find myself in a bar full of stained wood, low dim lighting, and comfy stools covered in dark brown butter soft leather. There are pictures filling every free space of wall around us, except for behind the bar. The crown jewel of the entire space is behind the bar.

The built-in counter and shelf system, backed with a mirror to reflect the room back at you, is the most beautiful piece of woodwork I’ve ever seen. It’s so enormous and intricate I wouldn’t doubt it was built on site. Before he passed, my dad was a handy guy, always fixing things around our house, and for anyone in the neighborhood, but even this would’ve been out of his wheelhouse.

“What are you staring at?” Toni nudges my elbow, bringing me back to the present. “Quit staring at yourself in the mirror.” Her goofiness makes us both laugh.

“I’m not that vain. I was just admiring the?—”

“Admiring the hot bartender. I don’t blame ya, chica. He’s one helluva piece of man meat.”

“Antonia Maria Martinez,” I hiss through clenched teeth as my eyes dart around, hoping nobody heard her loud mouth. “You do not talk about people like that.”

“Oh, come on,” now her laugh is drawing the attention of the patrons closest to us, but they all look away after a short glance. “No one in here cares. Ask any woman, and even a few guys, and they’d tell you the same. Declan is H-O-T hot. Like call the fire department ‘ cause?—”

“Welcome to Paddy’s. What can I get you ladies to drink?”

Holy. Forklifting. Shitballs. Who is this?

Brown eyes the color of melted chocolate lock with mine and I go stupid. My mind is blank as I fall into the swirls of a million hues that I quickly realize isn’t so simple to describe.

Autumn fall leaves, rich soil after an afternoon downpour, a tiny swirl of gold around the iris—it all makes this stranger’s eyes sparkle.

I continue my dumbfounded, shameless perusal of this fine specimen in front of me. His dark brown hair is buzzed short. The black button-up dress shirt stretched across his wide shoulders has a few buttons undone, showing the start of some colorful ink. The tattoos continue down his left arm, also peeking out of the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The shirt is untucked over a pair of dark blue jeans disappearing behind the edge of the bar top, and I find myself disappointed that I can’t see what they hide.

“Frankie!”

“What?” I turn to Toni, coming back to reality again. Shit, apparently only four hours of sleep last night has turned me into a space-cadet zombie.

“Declan here asked what you want to drink.”

My eyes swing back and forth between her and the man she says is named Declan—that’s a nice name. Hot name for a hot man.

“I’ll have whatever light beer you have on tap,” I give my order on auto-pilot. It’s a good thing I order the same drink no matter where we go, or I’d be sitting here until noon tomorrow trying to make my brain formulate words that didn’t sound like mumbled mush. “Thanks.”

“You got it.” Declan winks and a dimple on his right cheek pops before he turns and walks toward the beer tap to get our drinks.

I’m done. Drive a stake through my heart. My goose is cooked. Call the coroner now.

“Your goose?” Now I’ve gone and done it. Toni is laughing so hard, half the bar is looking at us no doubt. “Oh. My. God.” She huffs the words in between breaths as she holds onto the edge of the bar for dear life.

Me on the other hand, my elbows are on the bar, face buried in my hands, wishing the planks of the worn wood floor below me would open up and swallow me whole.

“Did I say that out loud?” I mumble.

“You sure did.” Toni’s hyena laugh has calmed to a small chuckle.

“Bathroom break,” I say as I flee the scene in embarrassment. If I’m going to be stuck here for another few hours, I need to splash my face with cold water and regroup somewhere out of sight of the bartender who has turned me into a stupid, babbling, ninny.