Page 4 of The Best Christmas Choir Ever

“Yes, we go way back,” Gram agreed. “Though it’s obviously been too long.” She patted Julian’s arm like he was a beloved friend and not an ex-fling from Charlie’s past.

Charlie grimaced at the sight. Hell no! Gram needed to choose any other retirement home where the chances of running into Julian were zero.

“I had no idea you were working here,” Gram continued. “It truly is a wonderful surprise.”

Wonderful isn’t the word I’d use, Charlie thought, considering he was acting like she was a clingy leech he’d accidentally picked up in the river that summer.

Julian might claim to only vaguely remember her, but she certainly remembered him. They’d both been about twenty-one. Her gaze dragged up and down his body before she could stop it, her eyes almost too eager to take him in. Julian hadn’t been the first man she’d ever slept with, but from what she remembered, he was certainly the first man she’d really enjoyed sleeping with. A hot blush crept across her cheeks, and she scowled, frustrated with herself. She couldn’t be blushing over this man.

“You’re looking well,” Julian finally said to Gram. It was the most neutral thing he could have possibly said.

“Fit as a fiddle,” Gram replied. “Or so I told them when I applied here.”

Julian chuckled. It was so frustratingly polite. His eyes flickered toward her, and Charlie blushed even harder. Her whole damn face was on fire, but she couldn’t tell if it was from annoyance or that tiny wisp of attraction that flared like an ember in her chest.

So tiny it didn’t even count.

Blah!

“Took a bit of a spill the other month and knocked the old hip, but I’m bouncing back,” Gram continued.

“I wouldn’t have known,” Julian assured her.

Gram preened and fluffed her hair as Julian kneeled to collect the rest of his papers.

Charlie bent down to help, giving herself something to do other than stare at him. She picked up the first paper she could reach, surprised to find sheet music. She picked up another, studying the Italian words on the page. It was music she recognized. What was a retirement home doing with an aria from Gianni Schicchi?

“Here,” she said, handing over the papers.

“Thanks.” Julian stood. Up close, the height difference was obvious—and familiar—as he towered over her. She remembered spending a lot of time pressed up on her toes, entwining her arms around his neck to pull him close enough to reach his lips. He looked down at her through dark brown curls, his eyes so green Charlie couldn’t stop staring. He was still boyishly handsome beneath the mask of age, and she remembered that his cheeks dimpled when he smiled. Those dimples had gotten her into a lot of trouble that summer.

“Are you planning on staging an opera?” she asked, distracting herself from those thoughts.

His face shifted through confusion to amusement. “What?”

“It’s just that I’m surprised to find sheet music for an opera in a retirement home.”

“Is that what this is?” He flipped through the pages in his hands, a smile curling up the side of his face, showing off those dimples she’d been so fond of. Charlie tore her eyes away. “Someone donated a bunch of sheet music the other day, and I finally got around to clearing it off my desk.”

“It’s O Mio Babbino Caro,” she said. “Probably one of the most famous arias out there.”

Julian’s brows arched. “You could tell all that just from a few pages of notes?”

Charlie nodded. If he only knew how many months she’d spent in her dorm room perfecting the octave leaps only to realize she wasn’t in fact meant for opera. After some soul searching and with Tom’s guidance, she’d let go of a dream she thought she wanted and transitioned into Juilliard’s Drama Division, finding her way back to musical theater, which she’d always loved, and eventually to a Broadway stage.

“Oh, right. Juilliard,” he said, nodding. Charlie tilted her head slightly, studying him. Maybe he remembered her more than he was letting on.

“Does Glendale have a music program?” Gram asked, intrigued. Charlie knew that the most important thing packed on the moving truck today was Gram’s piano. The same piano she’d taught Charlie and Tom to play on. She said it was coming with her whether there was room in her suite or not. “If you’re getting sheet music as donations—”

“It’s not a full-time program that we offer right now,” Erin cut in.

“I am working on it, though,” Julian said, grinning. “So don’t count it out just yet.”

“We never do,” Erin said. “But we didn’t mean to keep you. Just making the rounds while Doris gets moved in.”

Julian tucked the sheet music under his arm. “Well, I look forward to catching up with you both.”

That was a lie if Charlie had ever heard one, and she was completely fine with that. She didn’t want to catch up with Julian Guerrero. She didn’t want to pass him in the hall. She didn’t want to make small talk. Frankly, she didn’t want to have to think about him ever again.