I swallowed my shame and moved down the hallway where the two younger women had finished with the lightbulbs.
They greeted me cheerfully and went back to the laundry room for more supplies.
I stood on one of the abandoned stepladders and began spraying down the next doorway, then wiped the dripping cleaner down with the sponge.
The repetitive motion was soothing.
I worked my way down the hallway, losing myself in the task.
My phone buzzed twice more in my pocket, but I ignored it.
By the time I reached the fourth doorway, the man whose name I couldn't remember had wheeled a small television into the hallway.
He positioned it on a rolling cart near the laundry room entrance and plugged it in.
"Thought we could use some entertainment while we work," he announced. "Hope nobody minds."
Clara called out her approval from inside the laundry room.
One of the younger women asked him to turn up the volume.
I continued washing doors and trim, only half paying attention to the television.
The local news was on.
A cheerful anchor was discussing upcoming community events and the latest town happenings.
It was white noise to me as I scrubbed until I heard something that made me feel a bit of panic welling up inside.
"And in case you missed it," the anchor said, "yesterday's candle lighting ceremony at the Christmas in July festival was absolutely beautiful. Let's take another look at Beacon Hill's newly appointed Lightkeeper and Hearthkeeper."
My hands froze on the spray bottle as the screen cut to footage from last night.
The camera angle was tight, focused on Dr. Bradley and me as we moved through the crowd lighting candles.
We stood close together, and it looked less like an honorable tradition and more like we were a happy couple.
His hand hovered near the small of my back, not quite touching but protective.
My head was tilted toward him, and I saw the attraction in my own eyes as I stared up at him.
This was bad.
God, this was so bad.
We looked intimate and way too familiar.
Anyone who saw this wouldn't have to try hard to guess something was going on between us.
"Dr. Nathan Bradley, Dean of Medicine at Beacon Hill University Hospital, was chosen as this year's Lightkeeper," the anchor continued. "His selection of Hearthkeeper has certainly raised eyebrows. Ember Harrison is only twenty-four years old and serves as Dr. Bradley's personal assistant. Quite the age gap, but what a statement about mentorship and the passing of tradition to the next generation."
The screen switched to footage from the ceremony itself.
The moment when Nate had leaned down and kissed me on stage.
The camera had caught everything—the way his hand had curved around my waist, the way I'd risen onto my toes to meet him, the lingering moment when he'd pulled back and our eyes had locked.
It made my cheeks burn even hotter this time, seeing it on television with all the neighbors in the building watching.
