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“I heard you guys say it was about sold out,” she mumbled as she stirred into movement again. Charlie watched her zip her messenger bag and reach for her phone. “You need the chair.”
“We can get chairs from 515 if we need them.”
“It’s fine, Charlie.” She shook her head. “I should go.”
“Let me walk you home.”
Tatum pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder and leveled him with a hard stare. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously.” He shrugged. “Why not?”
“Because it’s still light outside, and it’s just down the block.”
“C’mon.” He nodded toward the door and brushed his fingers over her lower back. She hesitated like she might argue but finally gave in. Charlie let his gaze dip just enough to admire her sweet little ass in the leggings.
“Stop looking at my ass,” she called as she pulled the door open and stepped outside.
“You don’t want me looking at your ass, don’t wear leggings that put it on display.”
“Don’t be a jerk,” she mumbled as Charlie rushed up to walk beside her.
“How am I being a jerk? I’m walking you home.”
“Expecting what exactly?”
“Nothing.” He turned to face her as they walked and held his hands out palms up. “Jesus, Tatum, I get it. You’re not interested. Can we at least be friends?”
To his frustration, she only stared at him and finally, she tore her gaze from him and stared straight ahead as they walked.
“When I was a kid, they decorated Maine Street for Christmas,” he announced. If she didn’t want to talk to him, he would do all the talking. “They had these big silver and red bells they hung from the streetlights. And they wrapped them in silver garland. The North Pole was in that park across from your building.”
“The Sage Center?”
“Yeah, but way back when it was just Sage Park.”
“Did you go see Santa there?”
“Yeah. Mom and Dad took us every year.”
She didn’t respond, eyes on her phone now.
“What about you? Did you get to go see Santa?” He nudged her with his elbow.
At the door of her building now, they stopped walking. Tatum took a deep breath and slipped her phone in a pocket on her hip.
“Those have pockets?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I think I sat on Santa’s lap once. When I was four maybe.”
“What’d you ask for?”
“This is starting to sound like a Hallmark Christmas movie,” she said with a straight face. “Do you think this is where I’m going to tell you I asked Santa for a baby sister and instead my mom was killed by a drunk driver? And that’s why I never celebrated Christmas again? And maybe that would explain my overall resting bitch face?”
Charlie squeezed his eyes closed and dropped his head back. He counted to three in his head and finally blinked. It wasn’t winter. There were no Christmas decorations anywhere, and there certainly wasn’t a warm, cozy feeling between them.
“Are you married?”
“No.”
