It’s a clear, pretty spring day in Seattle, so the ferry ride is uneventful and arrives on time. I drive through town to the studio, which sits just across the street from Nic Montgomery’s bakery. I’ll have to go in and get some cupcakes on my way to the airport.
After miraculously finding parking at the curb, I toss some coins into the meter and walk into the studio, surprised to find Leo standing at the counter.
“Cam! Hey, man, what’s up?”
He crosses to me and does the man handshake-hug combination, with a genuine smile on his face.
“I tried to reach you earlier, but your receptionist hung up on me.”
Leo raises a brow, and then we both look at the woman seated behind the counter. “What the hell, Judy?”
“Do you know how many people call here asking for you? If I put every call through, you’d yell at me for letting fans interrupt you.”
“I did mention that I’m a friend,” I reply.
“They all do,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Next time,” Leo says, not unkindly but firmly, “take a message, and I’ll call back the ones I want to.”
“Yes, sir,” she says and reaches for the ringing phone. “Sorry, no, he’s not available, but can I take a message?”
She rolls her eyes again, and Leo just smirks and gestures for me to follow him. “Judy’s been here a long time and thinks she’s irreplaceable. And she’s probably right. But that’s no excuse. Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine, I had to come this way anyway. I feel weird about this, but I have a favor to ask.”
Leo leans against a desk and crosses his tattooed arms over his chest. “Shoot.”
“You know Maggie O’Callaghan.”
“Sure.”
I go on to tell him about her social media account, the millions of people she has following her, and Leo tugs his phone out of his pocket and pulls her up while we’re talking.
Maggie’s voice fills the air.
“Damn,” he whispers. “She’s good.”
“I know. Now, she says she’s not interested in recording an album or seeking a career as a pop star, but she’d love to professionally record one song.”
Leo tucks his phone away and looks over my shoulder as if he’s formulating a plan.
“You know, I’m in the middle of recording a new album. There’s a song on it, a ballad, that would be fabulous for her if she’d like to sing it with me.”
I grin at him, and Leo smiles back.
“Let’s make a plan.”
“You’ve always been such a good lad,” Fiona O’Callaghan says from my passenger seat and reaches over to pat my arm. I drove my truck today because it has the extra room, with four doors and cargo space. The Mustang wouldn’t work for airport runs.
“I’m just glad you two were able to come,” I reply and glance back at Tom, who’s watching the island pass us by as I drive us over to the pub. “Everyone is going to be so surprised.”
“You’re the only one of our children who can keep a bleeding secret, and that’s the truth of it,” Tom says with a laugh.
Every time these amazing people call me one of their kids, my chest swells. I don’t know how I got so lucky to be brought into this fold, but I’m grateful for it every damn day.
I pull up to the pub, and we all get out of the truck. I take charge of the luggage as Fiona makes a beeline for the door.
“It’s excited she is to see her wee babes,” Tom says, that Irish lilt as thick as ever.
“And they’ll be excited to see her,” I agree. Tom rolls one of the suitcases, and I take the other. “How long do you think you’ll be in town?”
“Until after Maeve has the baby.”
“That’s a few months away, at least.”
“It is, aye. Fiona wants to be with her girl for the bulk of the pregnancy. There’s nothing quite like having your ma nearby, is there?”
I wouldn’t know. But I can say that there’s nothing like having Tom and Fiona here.
Before I can answer him, Kane calls, and I answer on speaker.
“What’s up?”
“Hey, are you back on the island?”
“How did you know I wasn’t on the island?”
“Maggie told me.”
“Yes, I’m back.”
“Great, can you please come over to my place? There’s a situation, and Maggie’s having a bit of a fit.”
“I am not having a fit, you arse,” I hear Maggie yell in the background.
Tom snorts next to me.
“Sure, I can come over. Give me about fifteen, okay?”
“Thanks.”
Kane hangs up, and I blow out a breath. “Well, looks like I’ll say hi to everyone and then head over to Kane’s.”
“It wouldn’t be a lovely Wednesday if Maggie wasn’t worked up about something,” Tom says with a laugh. “She’s a spitfire, that one is.”
“You’re right about that, Tom.”
I rest my hand on the other man’s shoulder before we go and find the others.