Page 12 of The Best Christmas Choir Ever

“But at least you’ve got options.”

“Right.” Julian trailed off awkwardly. Abruptly.

Which is perfectly fine! Charlie told herself, swallowing a bead of frustration. Because she didn’t want to playfully spar with him. This was strictly business.

Julian cleared his throat and threw his arms out. “What do you think?”

Charlie took a beat, trying to figure out what to say about the state of the room.

Julian held his hands up, like he was about to beg her not to run out the door. “Okay, I know what you’re thinking.”

Charlie smirked. “I highly doubt that.”

“It’s a little rough,” Julian admitted. He ran his hand through his hair, displacing the curls.

She clocked the muscles in his forearms again, eyes trailing higher, noting the way his biceps flexed beneath his shirt. Yesterday she’d remembered him as mischievous and boyish. But this Julian carried himself with purpose and confidence and experience. Charlie found herself a little overwhelmed by the desire to simply stare at him and admit that there wasn’t anything boyish about him anymore. She needed to stop looking at him.

“The acoustics in the room are excellent,” he was saying as she forced herself to stop ogling him. “Or so I’ve been told.”

“Well, I’ll let you two talk logistics,” Gram said, making her way to the door.

Charlie had almost forgotten she was there. “And where are you going?” she asked, wanting Gram to hang around if only to be a buffer between her and the unwanted sensations and feelings and memories Julian was awakening.

“To round up more participants. If we’re gonna get a show, then we should really make an afternoon of it.”

“Gram,” Charlie warned. She caught her grandmother’s arm as she passed. “Don’t go making this into something.” She lowered her voice. “This isn’t a performance.”

“Charlie, I’ve never known you to be anything other than a performer, whether it was two people in the crowd or two hundred,” Gram said quietly. She kissed Charlie’s cheek and disappeared.

Julian watched her go. “She really doesn’t take no for an answer, huh?”

“It’s both a blessing and a curse,” Charlie said. “And also how Gram said she ended up married three times.”

Julian laughed.

But as far as performing was concerned, Gram wasn’t exactly wrong. After years of living room recitals, school performances and community theater productions, Charlie had followed that performance bug straight to Juilliard. Many Broadway performances and orchestra concerts later, and she was here, in this tiny windowless room. Wouldn’t Tom get a kick out of seeing her now?

“So,” Julian said. “You all good here?”

No? “Is there some sort of programming I need to stick to, or am I sort of winging it?”

“Just keep the old folks entertained. How you choose to do that is up to you. We’ve got some speakers if you want to connect to Spotify.” Julian passed between her and a chair, putting his hand on her back as he did to stop himself from jostling her.

At the touch, Charlie felt something stir in her that she hadn’t felt in a very long time, and her pulse raced. She moved out of the way, putting some distance between them, stuffing the feeling somewhere to be forgotten.

Julian bent to collect the book on music theory she’d noticed. He dusted it off on his jeans before handing it to her. “You can get technical if you want.” He gestured across the room. “The piano also works if you’d rather tickle the ivories.”

“You’re not gonna break out a box of percussion instruments from the closet?” Charlie said, deadpan. She put the book down on a chair.

“Fresh out of those,” Julian said, lips pursed. “Though I have recently come into some quality sheet music for a certain opera if you’re interested in casting among our residents.”

“I think I’ll start with something a little more manageable.” Her options weren’t great. Unless she was going to connect to Spotify, which felt rather lazy, she supposed Gram was right. She would have to sing a little if she meant to actually entertain for the next hour. “I’ll save the opera for the advanced class.”

“Too bad,” Julian teased, catching her eye and giving her a dimpled grin. “I was looking forward to hearing that. I think we could really sell this place out. Charge a fortune at the door. Get maintenance to help with props. The admin team can do costumes.”

“Put it on your calendar then,” Charlie said. “The first entirely geriatric production of Gianni Schicchi, coming to a retirement home near you.”

Julian laughed, the sound bouncing between them, and Charlie fought the urge to hear it again. She didn’t want to laugh with him like she used to. Like they were lying out on a blanket at the river’s edge and he’d just whispered some terrible joke. She didn’t want to feel like no time had passed, because years had come and gone, and everything had changed. “I really do appreciate you taking the time to do this.”