“What does that even look like?” Brighton asked, folding her arms. “Moving on.”
Charlotte paused. Turned to look in the mirror. Despite Brighton’s efforts, she still looked like a mess, glitter dotting her cheeks and hairline, her neck. She flipped on the water and rinsed out the cloth, green sparkles swirling down the drain. Then she handed the cloth back to Brighton.
“It looks like this,” she said, closing her eyes and angling her chin forward a little in invitation.
Brighton hesitated but only for a second. Soon Charlotte felt the warm press of the cloth against her skin again, Brighton’s touch gentle and sure.
Chapter 16
Moving on.
Brighton couldn’t get the words out of her head as she absorbed the friendly way Lola—Charlotte—was behaving toward her. The change was sudden, a shock, like a lamp switched on in a dark room. While Brighton continued to clean the glitter from Charlotte’s skin, Charlotte talked.
Rather, she asked questions.
A lot of questions.
Do you like Nashville?
Where do you work?
What’s your favorite cocktail to make?
Do you visit your parents often?
How are Bonnie and Hank?
Brighton answered them all, trying not to notice that Charlotte avoided any and all inquisitions into Brighton’s dating life or their direct shared history. She asked her own questions aswell:How was the Rosalind Quartet formed? How is teaching going? What cities are you visiting on your European tour?
She also sidestepped Charlotte’s love life, but by the time Charlotte was mostly glitter-free, Brighton felt…lighter. Their interaction in the restroom was all small talk, to be sure, a clinical sharing of facts about each other’s lives over the past five years, but it was better than Charlotte’s cold shoulder and labored sighs, and better than the myriad knots that had formed in Brighton’s stomach over the past few days every time she’d seen her ex.
“And your own music…how’s that going?” Charlotte asked as Brighton rinsed out the washcloth.
Brighton kept her eyes on the rush of water. Charlotte had made her stance on the Katies’ use of “December Light” very clear, and Brighton honestly couldn’t bear to get into it right now, not with Charlotte Donovan, who’d achieved every dream her mind had ever conjured.
“One step at a time, okay?” Brighton said, shutting off the water and then folding the cloth into a square.
Charlotte’s mouth twitched, but she said nothing else about it.
“Ready to go back out there?” Brighton asked.
Charlotte nodded, then hesitated at the door. “One more thing.” Her hand stilled on the doorknob, and she took a deep breath. “I still don’t want anyone to know.”
Brighton frowned. “About us?”
Charlotte nodded. “I think it’s just too much for the holidays. For everyone. And I’ve got this tour to get ready for. I don’t want my quartet to…” She trailed off, sighed.
Hurt flashed through Brighton—a secret to be hidden—but she also got it. When she really thought about it, she didn’t necessarily want the entire household to know she had left Charlotteat the altar either. Adele’s reaction was hard enough, and she was Brighton’s best friend.
“Okay,” Brighton said. “A fresh start.”
Charlotte lifted a brow but nodded. And when the two of them walked out of the restroom and joined the rest of the Two Turtledoves attendees, Brighton had nearly convinced herself that a friendship—a fresh start—with Charlotte was possible.
Nearly.
Watered Down was a rough-and-tumblepub in downtown Winter River—weathered wood exterior, roof in need of replacing, an old door that used to be red but had faded to resemble something like cat sick. “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” wafted against the poorly insulated windows, which were rimmed with vintage-style Christmas lights, a fourth of which had burned out.
It was messy and a little down on its luck, and Brighton had never seen anything so beautiful.
