Page 62 of Flirting with the Scrooge

“Thanks, man.” I run my fingers over the glossy natural spruce top. “This is a nice guitar. I have one of these at home.”I throw the strap over my neck and stroll up to the podium where the announcer is chatting with another person. “Is there any chance I could go up next?”

He glances down at his paper.

“I want to surprise my girlfriend.” Girlfriend. Fuck, that has a nice ring to it. “She went to use the restroom, so when she comes out, I want to be on stage.”

“Yeah. I’m sure Harry and Judy won’t have a problem with that. You can go up right now.”

“Thanks.” I flash him a wide grin.

My heart hammers in my chest as I walk up the two short steps leading to the stage. As soon as my shoes hit the wood floor, a spotlight floods the area, shining directly on me. I block my eyes with my hand so I can find my spot in the middle of the stage. Once my eyes adjust to the light, I drop my hand. All eyes are on me, but when I look out into the crowd, all I see is her. Tatum’s standing next to her chair, a bright smile on her face. Her smile is all I need. I adjust the microphone. With my lips centimeters away from the windscreen, I say, “Hi. I’m Connor and I’m going to play a song that’s dedicated to my girl. She’s the hot blonde standing in the back. Give her a wave.”

Everyone in the crowd rotates in their seats. They even move a spotlight so it shines directly on her. She drops her head in her hands in embarrassment, but when she glances back up, her grin is bigger than ever. Sheepishly, she waves her hand to everyone in the crowd. She moves to the table but doesn’t sit down.

I clear my throat and strum the chords to “You and Me” by Lifehouse. The music consumes me and my gaze is glued on Tatum. I pretend she’s the only one in the entire room. She’s the only one I’m singing this song for. Her body slowly sways to the music, and she looks more beautiful than ever. She gave me the strength to perform in front of a crowd again, even though it’s only about twenty people and not thousands. But for the first time in a long time, I love being on stage. I know it’s because she’ll be waiting for me when I’m finished, which is something I’ve never had before.

I sing out the last of the lyrics, feeling every note, and every chord deep in my soul. Then the note fades through the speakers. Slowly, I open my eyes, a hush rolls over the crowd before the entire coffee house erupts in claps and cheers. But my biggest cheerleader is at the back of the room with the brightest smile on her face, her arms raised above her head, clapping and screaming so hard for me.

Stepping off the stage, I hand the kid back his guitar. I thank him again for letting me use it. I make a mental note to be sure to repay the favor later. But right now, I only have one goal in mind, get to Tatum. When I glance up, she’s staring back at me. But she’s not only staring at me, she’s seeing all of me. The real me. And fuck, it terrifies and thrills me both at the same time. I only want to go to her and wrap her in my arms. So, I do just that.

With long strides, I’m meeting her at the back of the room. She wipes at a tear on her cheek, but her excitement never leaves her face. Once I’m close enough, I tug her into my arms. Instantly, her arms wrap around my waist and hold me tight.

“I hope those are happy tears.”

“The happiest. That was so amazing. And beautiful. I’ve never had a guy sing a song to me like that.” She pulls away and glances up at me but keeps her hands on my waist. “Also, your girl?”

“Right now, you are most definitely my girl. And when we leave here, I fully intend to show you.” I bend down and press my lips to hers. Her fingers clutch my shirt and tug me closer to her. I break our kiss but keep her close. “Should we get out of here?”

She nods. While we get ready to leave, a few people come up and tell me how great I did and I should come back again. They were genuine compliments, with no other intention behind them. No one wanting an autograph or a picture. Nothing. It was refreshing. It felt as if one of the many missing puzzle pieces from my life was put back into place. Slowly, I’m becoming whole again. And I owe it all to the girl next to me.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out and read the message. My heart stops as I read the words. I read it again just to make sure I’m reading them correctly.

Tatum rests her hand on my forearm. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Concern laces her voice.

“Yeah. Um. I got a message from the realtor. There’s a buyer for the house.”

THIRTY-ONE

ROAD TO YOU

Tatum

I knew it was inevitable, but it still hurts. The For Sale sign has been stuffed into the snowbank in front of Mrs. Hendrickson’s house for only two days, and it already has a rectangular Sold sign across the front. The selfish part of me wanted it to stay on the market for an extra week, or month, or maybe forever. But I know Connor has a life to get back to. One that’s two thousand miles away instead of two hundred feet.

It’s Christmas Eve and instead of going out with my friends, I told them all I wasn’t feeling well. It’s not a lie, it feels like a string of Christmas lights is strangling my heart. As fast as Connor came into my life, he’s leaving just as fast, if not faster.

A knock on my door startles me from my pity fest. Climbing to my feet, I tug on the handle. I’m surprised when Connor is standing on my doorstep with a brown paper bag in his hand. When his gaze meets mine, the corner of his lips curl into a smile.

“What are you doing here?”

“I saw your light on, so I thought I’d shoot my shot and see if you were home. Hungry? I have Chinese takeout.”

“Sure. I didn’t cook anything, so this is perfect.” I grab the bag from him and step to the side so he can come in. I stroll into the kitchen and set the food on the counter. A few seconds later Connor is following me. I pull out a couple of plates from the cupboard while Connor grabs the silverware.

“So, no plans for Christmas Eve?” he asks as he scoops some chicken fried rice onto his plate.

“Usually, we do Friendsmas. Like a friends Christmas, but I wasn’t really feeling up to it. How about you? No family to visit?” I pluck a few pot stickers from the container and put them on my plate. Without saying a word, we pass containers back and forth like we’ve been doing this for years.

“No, but I stopped and visited Grams for a few hours. Told her the house sold. She called it a Christmas miracle. Then she went back to hustling everyone out of their candy stash.” We both laugh, but it almost sounds forced. “Also, Grams says you can keep her Christmas decorations. She likes knowing they have a good home.”

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