“Having a good time?” I put my arm around her.
“Yes.” She hits one of the white ivory keys. “Your family is very nice.”
“Yeah.” I look around the room. “They’re pretty great. It’s been a long time since I spent a holiday with them.”
“That’s sad. You should try harder to see them.”
If it was only that easy. I smile wistfully at Tara, thinking about what my mother said. I could picture us doing this every year, but that future is just not in the cards. Not with my job, or our age difference, or anything.
“What’s your favorite Christmas carol?” She hits more keys and a faint sound reverberates.
“Why? Are you going to sing?” I nudge her.
“Would that be weird?” She wrinkles her nose.
“No. Usually by now Richard would be playingSilent Nightfor everyone.”
“Is that it?” She places both hands on the ivories.
“No.Carol of the Bellsis mine,” I tell her, realizing she’s serious.
“You would like a canon.” She starts to play the notes that give me goose bumps as everyone in the room turns their attention on us.
“You play!” Richard exclaims jovially. Then Tara starts to sing, and the sound pierces straight through my heart. Her voice is almost angelic. I actually get chills as she hits the high notes and pounds on the piano keys. By the second verse, everyone is crowded around us, enamored by Tara as she belts out the words. Listening and watching her, something shifts inside me. This woman is spectacular. I don’t think I can say I’ve ever used that word to describe a human being, but with Tara, it fits. She’s so talented and captivating; I can hardly believe she’s mine.
But she isn’t really, though, is she?
But she could be, couldn’t she?
Tara finishes the song to applause and leaves me with emotion bursting in my chest. My mother was right. What I feel for Tara is something more than just casual. Since we’ve been together everything around me seems bolder and brighter. Isthatwhat love is? Is that whatthisis? The only thing I’m truly sure of is she’s becoming everything, the center of my universe, and if that’s not love, I don’t know what is.
“Sing another one!” Camille exclaims, and Tara blushes.
“Go on,” I urge her.
“Any requests?” she asks, becoming our entertainment for the night.
CAMILLE, CARA, AND I TAKEa selfie before CJ and I leave. I think I’ve made two new best friends.
“I’m posting this to Instagram. I’ll tag you, Tara!” Camille types away on her phone.
“Shortcake77,” I tell her my user name.
CJ looks down at me with a wry smile. I guess he never stalked me online to know I changed it when I came back from Hawaii.
We say our good-byes to his family and then head out to the car. It was a pretty magical night. I can’t believe I actually started singing Christmas carols to a bunch of people I barely know. But CJ looked so adorable sitting next to me on that bench, I felt compelled to sing to him. That doesn’t happen often, almost never actually, but he owns a piece of my heart. And even if I can’t tell him that, it was a subtle way to show him.
I check Instagram as soon as I get in the car, and sure enough, Camille posted the pic with the caption ‘future SIL.’ I nearly choke. I guess I made an impression.
CJ holds my hand the whole way back to the city. I steal glances at him now and then, wondering how much longer this charade is going to go on. I love being with him, but the more time we spend together, the more attached I become. And if it was a different time in my life, and I was a different girl, I would bring up the whole ‘where is this going’ conversation. Instead,I’m going to avoid it like the plague.
“What are you thinking about over there, shortcake?” He jiggles my hand.
I drop my head back on the seat and lie. “Bed.”
CJ moans long and low in this throat. “Me too.”
I roll my eyes. Incorrigible.
