Vivian stands up and smooths her skirt. “Come on. Let’s go see these apartments.”
A few hours later,and I’ve made no decisions. Every apartment I view, I think, “Would Charlotte like this one?” I think of our text messages, where she agreed to come look with me.
Vivian and I finally go our separate ways. I decide to walk back, and it begins to snow.
Charlotte’s voice pops into my head. “I wanted to ice skate in the winter, but we had to stay on the grounds of the orphanage after school.”
I stop moving, trying to remember when she told me that.
Her face pops up, and I realize it was during one of our FaceTime calls. She was sitting propped against her headboard, swathed in blankets, her nose was bright red from a cold.
“When I’m in Chicago, the next time it snows, I’ll take you ice skating,” I told her.
“Really? You ice skate?”
I laughed. “I’m a horrible ice skater, but I’ll risk it for you.”
Someone bumps into me, knocking me out of the memory, and I realize I’m standing in the middle of the sidewalk.
I get back to my hotel, grab gloves and a scarf, and take an Uber over to Charlotte’s. A woman carrying her chocolate-brown poodle leaves the building, and I grab the door before it shuts.
Please be home.
Too antsy to wait for the elevator, I climb the stairs and am soon outside her door. My mouth goes dry, and my pulse increases from nerves, but I knock as loud as I can.
The sound of the dead bolt unlatching hits my ears, and the door swings open. Charlotte’s eyes are puffy and red, and my heart bleeds again.
“Xander—”
“Get warm stuff on. It’s snowing, and we’re going ice skating.”
She freezes.
I don’t wait for an invitation but step inside and shut the door behind me. “Come on. I promised you. Let’s go.”
“That wasn’t in a text message,” she says quietly.
I nod. “I know. It was on FaceTime, and you were curled up in bed, sitting against your headboard.”
“What else do you remember?”
I search my memory. “Nothing else because some guy almost knocked me over.”
She furrows her brow at me. “You almost got knocked over?”
“Yep. I really shouldn’t stop and stand in the middle of the sidewalk. Especially in the snow.”
She bites her lip.
I notice she’s wearing jeans and a sweater. Good enough for ice skating. I open her foyer closet.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to find your hat, gloves, and a scarf.”
“Do I get a coat, too?” she teases, and I know I’m back in the game.
Feeling better every minute, I find an electric-blue hat, gloves, and scarf on a shelf. I put her hat on her then beam at her. “That hat is the perfect accessory for your eyes.”
