She stood, settling the guitar over her body, then looked at herself in Sloane’s full-length mirror. Her sweatpants and tee notwithstanding, she didn’t feel like an impostor, didn’t feel like a stranger was looking back at her from the glass. She looked…good.
Natural.
She picked out the first few notes of a too-familiar song, an ache settling around her heart. But with that ache, there was a rightness too.
A realness.
And suddenly she knew exactly how to tell Lola what she was feeling—everything she wantedafter.
Chapter 26
Over the years, Charlotte hadperfected the fake smile.
Not too broad.
Not too small.
Show some teeth.
Make sure her eyes crinkled in the corners.
In fact, she’d had so much practice with disingenuous smiles, she’d nearly forgotten what a real one felt like—the ache in her cheeks, the effortlessness to it. These past couple of days with Brighton, short as they had been, had reminded her how easy it could be, how easy it was to just be happy.
Buteasyandhappywere fleeting, practically mythical concepts in her life, a fact made all the more real the second she realized, right there in the middle of Watered Down with a cheap Manhattan in her hand, that her perfect Charlotte Donovan Smile™ had once again settled on her face.
“I think I’m about to do something totally insane,” Wes said, plopping into the chair next to her. The room was almost overlywarm and loud. The small stage was brightly lit, everything else dim and moody, a single microphone and stool ready and waiting for the Two Turtledoves attendees to profess their love, lust, or like.
“Oh?” Charlotte said, sipping on her drink. She was not touching the pitcher of Mistletoe Margaritas at their table, nor was she planning on consuming more than one Manhattan. Her mind was already whirling with thoughts about Brighton and music and New York and Europe and whatever came after that—she needed every single wit she had in place.
Wes nodded. “Like, real, real dumb.”
“It’s not dumb,” Dorian said, sitting down on Wes’s other side. “It’s necessary.”
Charlotte tilted her head. “What is this real, real dumb yet necessary thing you’re about to do?”
Wes blew out a breath, his eyes drifting to where Sloane sat a few chairs away, chatting with Elle.
“Oh,” Charlotte said. “Really?”
Wes covered his face with his hands. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, really,” Dorian said, clapping Wes on the back.
Charlotte assumed Wes had finally taken Dorian into his confidence regarding his feelings for Sloane. “What’s your plan?” she asked. Her own eyes scanned the room, looking for Brighton, who had ridden to Watered Down separately with Adele, claiming she was running late when the rest of their group was ready to leave Nina’s for the bar. This wasn’t unusual—Brighton had never been the most punctual person, but Charlotte had yet to see her, a fact that made Charlotte’s already anxious mind feel even more on edge.
“Well, I can’t sing,” Wes said.
“He’s awful,” Dorian said.
“I can’t act or write poems,” Wes said.
Charlotte circled her free hand. “So…?”
“So…I convinced Manish to let me use his viola.”
Charlotte nearly choked on her drink. “His viola?”
“I know,” Wes said. “But remember how I joined orchestra for Sloane back in high school?” His eyes were so wide, and he was so totally gone on Sloane Berry, even Charlotte’s cold heart melted a little.
