“You were in the Katies, I know,” Charlotte said, and Brighton flinched. Charlotte softened her tone, an instinct. “Sloane told me.”
Brighton sighed. “Anyway, that’s how they got the song.”
Charlotte frowned. “So you did give it away.”
“No, I…” Brighton shook her head. “I played it for Emily when we were getting to know each other’s style, and once we formed the Katies, we put the lyrics and guitar tab into our drive on the cloud, like our song database. I never wanted to play it live, really, and both Emily and Alice said it was too…”
Charlotte leaned forward. “Too what?”
Brighton shrugged. “Too emotional? Too…I don’t know.Lovey-doveywas the term Alice used. And I was fine with that, because it wasoursong, and I just—” She cut herself off, sat back in her chair. “Can we talk about something else?”
“No.”
“Fine. Then we won’t talk at all.” Brighton picked up a tiny canister of green glitter and started shaking it over the snowman’s body.
“Brighton.”
Nothing.
“Brighton, for Christ’s sake. How did that song end up as a Katies single?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter,” Brighton said.
“The hell it does. That’syoursong. Did you sign away the rights? Did you give them permission? Did they give you writing credit? You’re owed royalties. They can’t just—”
“Drop it, Charlotte.”
Charlotte flinched. She’d asked Brighton to stop using her nickname, true, but the reality of it—hearing Brighton call her anything but Lola—was like hearing a symphony played just a hair off-key.
“Just like that, huh?” she said as Brighton continued to sprinkle green all over the snowman.
“Just like that what?”
“You’re giving up just like that? Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Brighton’s hand stilled, her jaw tight. “I’m not giving up. There’s nothing to give up on.” She started her glittering again, shaking way too much over the snowman’s belly.
“Oh, I see,” Charlotte said. “You’re just a coward, is that it?”
“I’m not a coward. I just know when something is futile.”
Charlotte’s jaw dropped of its own accord, hurt zigzagging through her like electricity. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”
Brighton laughed, a bitter sound. “Me? I’m the piece of work?”Shake, shake, shake.The glitter was now more of a blanket than adetail. “Whenyou’rethe one who couldn’t see what was right in front of you?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Charlotte said, her voice rising. “And what the hell are youdoing? You’re making my snowman look like a swamp creature.”
She reached out to grab the glitter from Brighton’s hand, but Brighton held on tight, yanking it back toward her. Charlotte wouldn’t give in, though, and she tugged it in her direction.
Hard.
Brighton let go. Charlotte saw a puff of green sparkles before she squeezed her eyes shut as the glitter went everywhere—her face, her neck, her hair. It coated her like a second skin. She sat still for a second, willing herself somewhere else as silence settled around her—a silence she knew meant everyone in the bakery was staring at her while “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” played like a lullaby from hell.
December had struck again.
“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” she heard Nina say. “We’ll get you cleaned up in no time.”
Charlotte cracked an eye open but yelped as pain seared across her cornea and she slammed her lid shut again.
