Page 57 of Songbird
He must have already heard the footsteps overhead, and I swallow deeply at his warning as an attractive redheaded woman skips down the stairs, her long hair in a braid, her denim shorts and T-shirt not so different from mine. She’s alone, her steps light and breezy as she crosses the living room and heads straight for the kitchen.
“Everyone else will be down in a minute,” she announces. “Slight issue with sticky trumpet valves.”
She reaches up on her toes to give Finn a warm hug, then extends her hand to me.
“Hi, I’m Poppy,” she says before a lightning strike of puzzlement hits her brows. “Holy shit. Has anyone ever told you how much you look like—”
“I’m Rosalie.” I accept her hand and give it a friendly shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You’re…?”
Poppy flits a look toward Charlie, and even though she’s behind me, I can read the moment she confirms my identity by the momentary shock on Poppy’s face. I’ve seen it before, so I take it in stride, and Poppy recovers pretty well.
She spares an exasperated look for Finn, and he shrugs one shoulder before she shines her smile on me. “Right, well. Hi, Rosalie. It’s nice to meet you too.”
More traffic descends the stairs, this time a good-looking guy with a neat five-o’clock shadow and his long hair tied back, and a little girl with her dark hair in a braid that mimics Poppy’s style almost to the last strand. She’s got a brass trumpet in her hands, and they’re moving carefully to make sure she doesn’t trip.
“Dylan!” Poppy calls, eager impatience making her voice shake a little. “Finnis here.”
Dylan’s grin is the kind you’d expect to find on a little brother who’s about to give his big brother shit, and as he approaches the kitchen, I roll my lips to stop a smile.
“About time.” Dylan approaches with his daughter’s hand clasped in his.
“Dylan?” Finn sets his wide hand on the small of my back, and it’s ridiculous how good it makes me feel. “This is Rosalie—”
“Thorne.” My name falls out of Dylan’s mouth like it was a thought he didn’t mean to say, and once it’s out, his eyes widen with mortification.
I can feel Finn roll his eyes. Beside Dylan, Poppy snorts and slips an arm through his, a silent kind of reassurance that tells the world these two are a team. I like them both instantly.
I offer Finn’s brother my hand. “That’s right. It’s lovely to meet you, Dylan.”
“Rosalie Thorne?” the little girl asks, and we all drop our gazes to look at her. “TherealRosalie Thorne?”
I try not to smile because the look on her little face is so serious. “Yes, the real Rosalie Thorne.”
“If that’s true,” she says, “then you should be happy to answer a few questions.”
“Izzy.” Finn crouches to look his niece in the eye, voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “This pretty lady right here really is Rosalie Thorne. You know I’d never lie to you.”
Someone find a mop because I’m melting into a puddle.
“Uncle Finn!” Izzy gives him a scolding look. “You’reembarrassingme.”
I laugh. “It’s fine, Finn. Truly. What are your questions, Izzy?”
Finn stands again and thanks me with a pulse of his hand around mine.
“How many GRAMMY Awards do you have?” Izzy demands.
I grin when her dad groans quietly. “Seven,” I confirm.
Izzy drops her head to one side. “What’s your middle name?”
“Betty,” I reply, and when her mouth pops open again, I preempt her next query. “After my grandmother.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“I have two. Blue, like the ocean when it laps around your ankles, and pink, like cold watermelon in summertime.”
