Christmas In The City (Imperfect Match 1.50)

“If anyone should be buying someone a drink, it should be me.” Broderick covered my upraised hand and smoothly lowered it to the bar, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Normally, I’d get freaked out if a stranger initiated touch so quickly, but Broderick was strikingly genuine. I got zero creepy vibes.

Bringing my attention back to him, his fingers slid away. “But it’s late, and I imagine you have someplace to be.”

I sat back on the stool, content for now that he didn’t seem inclined to imminently depart. My relief had me speaking without thinking. “Actually, no. I have no place to be.”

He frowned at that, a flicker of confusion—or maybe concern?—behind his gaze. “Really? Nowhere to be on Christmas Eve?”

A light laugh slipped past my lips and I shrugged, picking up a cardboard coaster, fiddling with the edges, and feeling suddenly self-conscious. And silly. Maybe I should’ve let him leave. What are you doing? Go home. Get some sleep. This is a dream, and dreams never last.

A few seconds ticked past while I wracked my brain for some topic that would get us back on track.

But then, Broderick asked, “Do you ever perform on stage?”

I shook my head, relieved for the subject change. “Dark little pub

s are about as far as my confidence will allow when it comes to performing.” I peeked at him again, and then rolled my eyes at myself and explained, “I have stage fright.”

He didn’t seem surprised to hear this, taking it in stride. “I’ve known a few people with stage fright. It can be overcome if you work on it.”

“Maybe,” I replied, unsettled by his scrutiny as I took another sip from my pint. I wasn’t used to talking about my singing like it was something I could actually do instead of cleaning hotel rooms for a living. It made me feel both weirdly scared and excited.

And yet, I didn’t want to allow myself to get my hopes up. Sure, I daydreamed, but there was still a logical part of me that knew that’s all it was. A dream. It would never be real.

I stared at the bottles on the shelves behind the bar and sensed Broderick studying my profile. Something about his attention now made the hairs on my neck stand on end. The earlier faint flutter in my stomach became a buzz. It seemed like a long time since anyone really looked at me.

“So, what do you call that type of song anyway?” he asked, once more breaking the quiet with his easy manner.

“It’s a traditional Irish ballad. My gran taught me lots of them. She used to sing, too, before she passed. If you think I’m good you should’ve heard her. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house when she sang.” I wanted to look at him again, so I did.

“I wish I could’ve heard her,” he said, sounding and looking sincere.

I nodded, swallowing thickly.

Broderick’s eyebrows drew together. I could tell he perceived there was something off with me. “I can leave if I’m bothering you,” he said. “Sometimes I just get so excited when I hear new music—”

“No, stay,” I interrupted. “It’s not you. My gran only passed away a few months ago, so I still get a little emotional when I talk about her.”

“Oh, oh.” He frowned, his handsome eyes turning sad. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ophelia.”

I liked the way he said my name, the way his accent sounded out the syllables. I felt him looking at me again, but I tried my best not to make eye contact because there was something really empathetic about him. He had those soulful brown eyes that could just look at you a certain way and pull all your suppressed feelings to the surface. Then before you knew it you were crying your eyes out in front of a stranger.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “Gran raised me, so I just miss her a lot.” He didn’t speak, but instead reached out and put his hand on mine again. Like before, it felt so natural and genuine, it didn’t even occur to me to withdraw. “Gran used to make Christmas special,” I went on. “Now I feel so lost without her. I feel like everyone has somewhere to go except me.”

“That’s not true. There are others with no place to go.”

I knew he meant himself, so I asked, “What about your friends? They didn’t invite you over?”

“They did.” His smile made another appearance. “But I wasn’t in the mood to make small talk with strangers at their family Christmas. I couldn’t even get a reservation at a nice restaurant because I left it until the last minute. And even if I had gotten one, I would’ve been the sad dude in the corner dining alone.”

I laughed quietly. “Okay, so I’m not the only one. But it still sucks to be alone.”

Broderick nudged me with his elbow, lifting an eyebrow. “Hey. I’m not the ghost of Christmas past. You’re not alone.”

Feeling my smile persist, some reflex had me nudging him back. “Well then, neither are you.”

2

Broderick