“Not at all,” she said, smiling at him.
“What about you?” he asked, taking a sip of his water. “No sparks after your daring rescue? What’s her name? Brighton?”
Charlotte pressed her lips together, an instinct, keeping it all inside, but suddenly, her whole history with Brighton felt impossibly heavy, weighing down her limbs, her bones, even her blood. She looked at Wes, his expression open. He was easy to talk to—he was sweet and genuine and justkind. Not that others inher life weren’t, but he didn’t know her, and she didn’t know him, and they’d likely never see each other again after Two Turtledoves was over. There was a sort of safety in that.
She didn’t think too hard about it—knew she’d talk herself out of it if she did. She just let herself say what she wanted, what she needed to say to someone.
“It’s hard to reignite sparks between two people when one of them left the other at the altar five years ago,” she said quietly.
The confession landed like a single snowflake in the wind—fluttering and delicate before settling peacefully on the ground. Charlotte exhaled, felt her facial muscles relax. All her muscles, really.
“Holy shit,” Wes said softly.
“Yeah,” Charlotte said.
“And you, wait…”
“Haven’t seen her since. Not until we both showed up with a Berry sister for a Cheery, Queery Christmas.”
Wes let out a shocked laugh, then slapped his hand over his mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said through his fingers.
“Don’t be,” Charlotte said, then let herself laugh a little too. Itwasfucking funny when she really thought about it. The pure cosmic twist of it all. Then, suddenly, her gentle laugh turned into a longer one—louder, harder—and soon she and Wes were rightly guffawing, bent over on their logs, their shoulders pressed together, tears running down Charlotte’s cheeks in the cold. At one point, she wasn’t sure if she was laughing or crying.
Probably a little bit of both.
Charlotte noticed Sloane smiling at them, a question on her brow—in fact, everyone was looking their way, including Brighton, though Charlotte didn’t even care at that moment. It just felt so damn good to let it all out.
“Do we have another match at Two Turtledoves?” Jenny yelled over the crowd. Charlotte ignored her and was relieved when Wes did too.
“No one knows about it,” Charlotte said when they’d recovered. She wiped her eyes with the tiny napkin that once held her doughnut, printed fir trees dotting the rough paper.
“Wait, no one?” Wes said. “Not even Sloane?”
Charlotte shook her head. “She doesn’t even know I had a fiancée, much less that she’s sleeping down the hall. From the way Adele has acted so far, I don’t think she knows either.” She looked Wes in the eyes, said softly, “I’d like to keep it that way.”
Wes frowned, then was quiet for a bit, staring out in front of him. Finally, he blew out a long breath. “My first instinct is that you should tell someone.”
“I just did,” she said.
He smiled at her. “Fair. But someone who loves you.”
“Okay, now I’m offended.”
He laughed, shook his head. “I’m serious.”
She fiddled with her napkin, tracing the tiny green trees over and over. “It’s not that easy.”
“Yeah, I know that too. My best friend, Dorian? No clue I’m still ass over heels for Sloane. And he’s my business partner at the restaurant. I see him more often than I see my own shadow.”
Charlotte peered up at him and smiled. “Ah, so you’re a hypocrite.”
He presented his palms in surrender. “Hey, I said my first instinct was that you should tell someone. I didn’t say it was my last.”
“Fair enough.”
They went silent for a bit after that, but it was a nice silence. Friendly, easy. Charlotte was shocked by how much lighter she felt, though there was still an entire holiday to get through, andshe wasn’t sure how many more of these Two Turtledoves events she could handle emotionally. She’d be spilling all her secrets to Jenny next time.
“So what do we do now?” Wes asked.
