Charlotte glanced again at Sloane, whose gaze definitely kept drifting to Wes.
“I don’t think heartbreak is in your future,” she said.
He tilted his head, eyebrows raised. “Has she said something?”
Charlotte opened her mouth before realizing that the answer was no, but not for the reasons Wes would assume. She searched her memory, trying to remember the last time she’d actually asked Sloane about her love life, her past, her desires for anything romantic. She knew Sloane didn’t want anything serious, but had she ever actually askedwhy? Charlotte had just assumed they shared the same ambitions—career first and above all else.
But deep down, Charlotte knew those weren’t even her own reasons for staying single, though she didn’t like to think too hard about it. Career was the easy excuse, something no one could fault her for.
She looked again at Sloane, her oldest friend other than Brighton, something pulling tight in her chest.
“Wes, I—”
But then the singing bowl sounded, and Wes groaned, cast a wary eye at the next table.
“It’s Jameson,” he whispered.
“The glue eater?”
“The very one.”
“Well, at least you know what to prepare as an appetizer if you ever cook him dinner.”
Wes flipped her off, and she couldn’t help but laugh. They both wished each other good luck, and Charlotte’s stomachclenched even tighter. She felt rather than saw Brighton approaching, and she busied herself with fixing the bloodied scarf on her snowman. Brighton’s hand came into view, taking the pastry bag full of chocolate icing. She went to work on a top hat for Frosty, but she didn’t say anything.
Neither of them did for what felt like an hour, even though it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two. In the silence, Charlotte thought she’d have to fight to keep her thoughts off the k-i-s-s, but she didn’t. Instead, another thought nudged at her mind, crescendoing to a push, a shove, something she’d thought of several times over the past couple of days and hoped she’d just forget about.
Stop caring about.
But with Brighton sitting right here, they were trapped in each other’s company for at least another five minutes, and she couldn’t seem to think about anything else.
“How did the Katies get that song?” she asked. She didn’t look up. Didn’t stop her scarf mending.
Brighton’s hand stilled.
“In the woods, you said you didn’t give it away,” Charlotte said. “So how’d they get it?”
Brighton was quiet for long enough that Charlotte dared a glance. Brighton was staring down at the top hat she’d started, brushing the pastry bag’s nozzle through the icing mindlessly, her eyes a little hazy in thought.
“Brighton,” she said sharply.
“Are you and Wes dating?” Brighton asked without looking up.
Charlotte opened her mouth. Closed it. Waited for the satisfaction of knowing thatthatwas the question on Brighton’s mindright now, but it didn’t come. Instead, she felt almost embarrassed playing these games with Brighton.
Charlotte closed her eyes, counted to four. Opened them again. “Answer my question.”
Brighton finally lifted her head.
Their gazes snapped together like lightning crackling through a stormy sky. Charlotte felt nearly breathless. Her fingertips started to tingle, and her stomach fluttered like they were sixteen again.
Like they wereanythingagain.
“I played it for Emily,” Brighton finally said, looking back down. “When we first met.”
“Who’s Emily?”
“The Katies’ keyboardist,” Brighton said. “I was…we were…”
