Page 77 of The Best Christmas Choir Ever

“It’s not just one little performance.” He shot to his feet, shocked that she would even say that. What happened to staying? What happened to doing this together? “You’ve built something here at Glendale. If you’re giving it up for your dream, then go ahead, I’m happy for you. But if you’re leaving right before the competition because—”

“Because this is an amazing opportunity,” Charlie clarified. “Because Tom would have been so ecstatic to have an opportunity like this. He always wanted to perform with the New York—”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Julian said.

She jerked back from the force of his words. “What?”

“This doesn’t sound like it’s something you actually want to do. I think you’re trying to prove something to yourself or to Tom’s memory, but I don’t think that’s truly going to make you happy.”

“Julian—”

“You just told me performing on that stage, with that orchestra, was your brother’s dream. He’s gone, Charlie.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I know he’s gone. Thank you very much for that. I wake up and realize that every day. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s something Tom would have wanted us to do together. And as you pointed out, he’s not here.” Her voice trembled. “So now I’m going to do it for him.”

“Is this it then?”

“Is what it?”

Julian’s heart throbbed, and he wondered if it would burst out between his ribs. “If you leave now, are you ever coming back?”

Charlie opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked away. “This was never supposed to be a long visit. And the music thing… It was always just a volunteer gig.”

Just a volunteer gig. Anger pooled in his chest.

He should have known better than to get involved with Charlie again. In fact, he had known better. That was why his first instinct had been to pretend like he’d never known her at all. God, he wanted to scream. Old fears resurfaced, running through him like a cold chill. He’d made a stupid mistake opening his heart up to her again. Charlie was never committed to this place or to him or the choir, and he was an idiot for believing otherwise.

“Yeah, I get it,” he said. “You don’t do commitment. Of any kind.”

Her eyes widened. “I can’t believe that’s what you think of me and that you don’t see how important this opportunity is.”

“No, I get it. I really do,” he said, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice. “It’s an amazing opportunity. And if it’s what you really want, then I want that for you, too.”

“Really?” she snapped. “Because that’s not how it sounds.”

“Because last night you said you were okay with this. The choir. Frank.” He lifted his hands, grasping at nothing. “You said you were staying.”

“I never confirmed I was staying,” Charlie said, tucking her arms against her chest. “I was careful not to say that for this exact reason. Because I wasn’t sure what I was doing.”

“Jesus, Charlie. I shouldn’t need a codex to decipher your words.” He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact she’d been thinking all this through last night while he stupidly fell even deeper into his delusion. “And forgive me for thinking this was something you actually wanted! That I was something you wanted.”

“Julian—”

He shook his head, the anger spilling out of him in waves. “What was last night, just a convenient comfort fuck? Was I a warm body on a night you needed one?”

“No, that’s not what—”

“Is that all I am to you after everything?”

“God, Julian,” she said, threading her hands through her hair. “When are you going to let go of the past? We were just kids having a good time.”

“And what are we now, Charlie?” he snapped, staring at her hard. At her trembling jaw. “When are you going to accept that you can’t outrun your grief?”

The acrid smell of burned bacon filled the air, and the smoke detector shrieked suddenly. Charlie snatched a towel from the counter, waving away the smoke. “You should go,” she said, the hard edge of her voice carrying above the wail.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” Julian turned and headed for the door. He was ridiculous for thinking anything had changed.

Charlie didn’t want him. She never had.