Page 84 of Wish You Would

Frowning, I made a beeline for them. “Hey,” I said when I reached the bar. “Where’s Gigi?”

The simultaneous grins on both their faces both worried and relaxed me. I looked back and forth between them, trying to decipher their expressions. When neither spoke quick enough for me, I snapped, panic getting the better of me. “What’s going on?”

“Everything’s fine,” Dante said in the easygoing way he had. “Don’t you worry, girlie.” He tossed me a wink before turning to help an approaching customer.

Which left Vaughn.

Facing him, I raised my brows, silently reiterating my question. To my utmost annoyance, he chuckled. “You and your sister are more alike than either of you know,” he said, a fond gleam in his eye.

I ignored the warmth his comment created. “Vaughn.”

He glanced at his wrist, where he was not wearing a watch, and shrugged, glancing toward the front of the bar. “You’ll find out in about…ten minutes.”

I looked over my shoulder, following his eye line. The stage was set for Patti Mayonnaise’s show, their cartoon logo on Halle’s bass drum illuminated by a spotlight. Goosebumps raced down my spine.

Spinning to face Vaughn again, I slapped a hand on the counter. “She’s performing?”

He nodded. “She’s performing.”

My jaw dropped. “How…when…what?” Shaking my head, I tried again. “I’ve been trying to talk her into taking them up on their offer for weeks.”

Vaughn gave me a chagrined smile. “Funny what a little good old-fashioned guilt will do.”

Something hot twisted in my gut. A fire-and-ice combo of excitement at seeing Gigi perform, and anger at what got her there. Climbing onto a barstool, I planted my elbows on the bar, assessing the guy who’d become a fixture in my life. We didn’t know each other well. Not yet. But I’d seen the way he loved my sister, and the way he loved his own sister. I’d seen how his friends and his employees respected and adored him. I took all that into account before I attacked.

With a long, bracing breath, I squared my shoulders. “I don’t think,” I started, tone calm, “that guilt is the best way to convince someone to do something when everything they’re already doing is fueled by guilt.”

Vaughn’s dark eyes, so much like his sister’s, flickered. “That’s not—”

“It is, though.” A fierce protectiveness roared through me. “She already feels guilty enough, Vaughn. Adding to that is a real shitty thing to do.”

He frowned, heavy brows furrowed, and when he spoke, it was with slow, deliberate words. “I appreciate where you’re coming from, but you don’t know her like I do.” He leaned against the bar, closing the space between us. “You weren’t there in middle school when she backed out of the school play because it was the same night as my homecoming game. Or in high school, when she wanted to take guitar lessons but our dad always thought she’d play piano.” His gaze clashed with mine. “She’s always operated on obligation. Her loyalty to her people is unmatched.” He grimaced, shaking his head. “Very often to her own detriment.”

He looked away, shoulders sagging, and continued. “The one time she led with her heart and did something she wanted to do…well, I’m sure you know what happened.” He shook his head and straightened. “I can’t let her live in shadows of that forever.” Turning around, I followed his line of vision. Gigi stood on the sidelines, laughing with the band, happiness radiating from her in luminescent ribbons. “So, if it takes a little brotherly guilt to wake her up…I’m gonna use it.”

I absorbed his words, matching them with what I knew about Gigi. He was right; he did know her better. Something I couldn’t help but be envious of. But I’d glimpsed the tenderness beneath her gruff exterior. She’d let me in. I could not help but be protective of that.

“Sorry.” I reached over to touch his arm. “I didn’t mean to imply that I knew what was best. I—”

“I know.” He laid his hand on top of mine. “I appreciate you looking out for her.” He studied me, face contemplative. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but before he could get it out, Dante rejoined us.

“We excited to see our girl take the stage again?” he asked, throwing an arm around Vaughn’s shoulders. “She’s gonna slay.”

Our girl. I grinned back at Dante, letting his words wind themselves around my heart. She was our girl, wasn’t she? Leaning over, I shook his arm, excitement bubbling over. “She’s so gonna slay.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the stage lights went dark. The crowd—a bunch of new people must’ve shown up during my conversation with Vaughn—cheered. Spinning in my seat, I watched the shadows move as everyone took their positions onstage. My heart somersaulted as the familiar curve of Gigi’s body stepped in front of the mic. Behind her, Halle raised her arms above her head, counting in with the click of her drumsticks. Then, in perfect synchronicity, the stage lit up as their first song started.

Behind me, Vaughn laid a hand on my shoulder. I put mine over it and, together, we watched our girl come to life.

I blinked and it was over.

Spellbound, I’d watched as Gigi gave us the magic of Britney Spears one moment, then the wistfulness of Sixpence None the Richer’s “Kiss Me” the next. Without missing a beat, she transitioned from song to song, playing off Ryan as they performed “It’s Your Love,” their chemistry so palpable one would swear they were a couple.

She was on fire. Sparkling. She was exactly where she belonged.

Which was why when she stood in front of the mic stand for the encore, “Wonderwall,” and the stage lights caught a glimmer of tears in her eyes, everything in me skidded to a halt.

I was crossing the bar before I realized I’d even moved. I wove my way through the crowd, who was swaying and singing along, until I reached the stage. Standing in the shadows, I watched as she sang, her voice wrapping around the melody, turning a fun fan-favorite to the most melancholy thing I’d ever heard. One look at the audience told me that people were noticing. Wine moms and casual fans alike wiped at their eyes, clutching the hands of people next to them as they sang along.

---