Page 8 of The Best Christmas Choir Ever

Oh, for crying out loud! Bumping into them once was bad enough but twice? That was some kind of punishment. Julian considered making an excuse about forgetting something, but then he caught sight of those hazel eyes. As if a string of Christmas lights had hooked him around the chest, he felt himself being dragged into the elevator against his will.

Dammit.

“Thanks,” he said, charging straight through the awkwardness as the door closed, boxing them all in. “For holding the door. The residents like to make me walk up the stairs under the pretense they’re keeping me young and fit. I secretly think they just like to torture me.”

“No problem,” Charlie said. “Gram still gets mad at me when I don’t wear socks in the house.”

“I never wore socks, and now I have arthritis,” Doris said. “Coincidence?”

“Yes,” Charlie said at the same time as Julian said, “Probably.”

Doris clicked her tongue and huffed dramatically. “Well, excuse me for trying to save you years of pain and suffering.”

Julian and Charlie laughed, the sound triggering a spark of awareness. It felt good to laugh with her, and for a ridiculous beat Julian wanted to catch her hand, to see if their fingers still felt right intertwined.

No, no, no! He couldn’t want that. He couldn’t want her. Because he already knew what it was like to be left by her.

The moment passed, and Julian tucked himself into the corner of the elevator before his mind could drag up other nonsense. Like her little happy wiggle when she ordered food she particularly liked or the way she stopped to pet every cute dog on the sidewalk.

Charlie took a step back, too, settling against the opposite wall next to her grandmother, avoiding his eye. He tried not to stare, but it was like opening an old photo album and being submerged in memory. She looked the same but also different. Her hair was shorter and blonder, cut above her shoulders, which suited her. And there were new curves in places that he remembered running his hands over. Those suited her, too. She’d very obviously blossomed in their time apart, and though the years had been kind to her, there was something else that had changed. There was something different, perhaps more reserved about her, as if part of her had been hidden away for safekeeping.

“How was the rest of the tour?” he asked before he could lose himself to that thought.

“Excellent,” Doris said. “Charlie’s had nothing but good things to say about the place.”

Charlie caught his eye then, almost reluctantly, but her lips turned up at the corners. She was really quite pretty when she did that, her eyes seeming to twinkle, though maybe that was just the strange overhead lights in the elevator and his imagination. Whose eyes actually twinkled? Get a grip.

“Glendale does have a reputation as the place where people have nothing but good things to say,” he said.

“I mean, the complimentary butterscotch candies in the lobby alone are worth five stars,” Charlie said.

“Don’t forget peach cobbler Wednesdays,” Julian added. “A cannot-miss experience.”

“And this bopping elevator music.”

Julian nodded. “Have you seen the matching walking club tracksuits yet? Not even just cotton. We sprang for the poly-cotton blend.”

“What?” Charlie gasped. “No. And here I thought the postcards for sale in the art room were really tipping you over the edge.”

“Hey, those are hand drawn by the residents themselves,” Julian pointed out. “And every purchase goes straight back into the bingo prize fund.”

“Oh, well, I’ll have to buy one now,” Charlie said, nudging Doris. “Wouldn’t want the bingo prize to be lacking.”

“It’s caused riots in the past,” Julian said.

Charlie smirked. “Can’t have that.”

“You know, one day you two will understand how riveting a game of bingo can be,” Doris cut in. “I could do without the world’s slowest elevator, however. I’ll be seventy-five by the time we get to the fourth floor.”

Charlie burst into laughter, the sound filling the tiny box like chimes, melodic in a way that made him want to hear it again.

Julian silently cursed that desire the second he had it. This was the woman who’d ghosted him. Who hadn’t cared enough to even tell him that she’d moved on. She could take her smile and her laugh and her twinkly eyes and shove them—

“And how did your meeting go?” Doris asked him.

“Oh.” Julian sobered, returning to thoughts of budgets and grants. “Not as well as I’d hoped. But I should have known that.”

“Did it have anything to do with that aria you had?” Charlie asked curiously, catching her lip between her teeth in a way that was far too distracting for this small of a space.