Page 83 of Just Like Home

And she kept looking at him, which was messing with his cool demeanor.

He wasn’t sure which part of this whole thing made him feel the stupidest—the idea itself or the fact that he needed Charlotte’s help in the first place.

He didn’t want to need help from anyone, but especially not Charlotte. Which he realized was a very old-fashioned and ridiculous thought. Women helped men all the time. He didn’t have to be the one saving her.

Never mind that he wanted to be.

At dinner, she’d opened up a little about herself, about this solitary life she’d had—it made him want to introduce her to the world. She’d missed out on so much. Never mind that her life had been a wholly different kind of adventure. There were little things she’d never experienced.

And his lingering question about her love life had been answered. She’d never even been on a date. It seemed impossible, but he could see by the look on her face that it was true. That look seemed to want to own the truth and hide it at the same time.

Like maybe it embarrassed her to admit it.

“What did you want to ask?” She stood in front of him now, wearing black shorts and a tank top and looking slightly tanner than she had the last time he’d seen her. Her big, blue eyes were wide, and he realized he was dreading every single thing about this question.

But it’s why he’d come here in the first place. He couldn’t leave without asking.

“The dance thing—”

Her brow furrowed. “The recital . . . ?”

“Yeah.” He chewed the inside of his lip. “I think I should do it.”

“Like, perform?”

The look on her face confirmed his greatest fear—he was about to make a huge fool of himself, which was the last thing he needed, given the fact that his wife had managed to do a bang-up job of that.

“What changed your mind?”

He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “My niece.”

She went still. “Amelia?”

He nodded. “What did Jules tell you about her?”

Charlotte closed the dishwasher and gave him her full attention. A soft smile played at her lips. “She told me that Amelia was like a younger version of her. They both had the same spunky personality. They both loved to dance.”

“Right,” he said. “And Jules loved watching her dance. I think Amelia’s pretty good for her age.”

“She is,” Charlotte said. “Jules and I mostly wrote letters to each other, but every once in a while, she’d send me a video. Twice, she sent videos of Amelia dancing. It really was like watching a young Julianna.”

Grief tugged at his heart. He hated that his sister was gone. He hated that her kids were going to grow up without her. It was unbelievable, really, even still. Most days, he expected her to show up at his door and force him to come over for dinner. He would never get used to the vacancy she’d left when she died.

“She’s not dancing anymore,” Cole said. “She’s hardly even talking. It’s like someone went in and yanked out everything that made her Amelia. Everything she loved is just gone.”

Charlotte crossed her toned arms over her chest and leveled his gaze. Man, she was pretty. “You’re worried about her.”

He nodded. “Julianna was a great mom. I know there’s no replacing her, but if I can do anything to help, I’m going to do it.”

She squinted up at him. He wanted to hide under her scrutiny. “And dancing in the recital will do that?”

He groaned. “I made her a deal. If she dances, I’ll dance.”

Charlotte smiled. For a second, time stopped. That smile could stop traffic.

“You’re making fun of me,” he said.

She shook her head. “I promise I’m not.”

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