Page 173 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“Yeah, we don’t need you tarnishing the talent,” I say with a hair flip.
“The town expects me to congratulate my girl on a job well done, so I’m just playing the part for the fans. Should we kiss again?”
“Spare me,” I say with an eye roll, trying to hold back my smirk from the slight shock in his eyes.
“Please spare us all,” Taran adds. “Also, you’re ruining our vibe over here. We were celebrating, and now you’re suffocating us.”
“It’s all about keeping up appearances, Taran. Although I guess you don’t know what that means, given your light display.”
Oh.
Shit.
I glance over at Taran, and her once-jovial expression has morphed into that of a woman ready to split a man’s skull in two with her bare hands. I understand what he’s doing, especially since he’s attempting to keep our secret…well, a secret, but disparaging Taran’s light display?No, Cole…no.
“How…dare…you,” Taran seethes as the music in the backgroundstarts to build, the crescendo of the song blasting through the speakers. “I will have you know I like to take my time, not just throw up some generic decor I saw in a magazine.”
“You might want to throwsomethingup. Christmas afternoon is when the Christmas Kringle is announced, and you have until midnight on Christmas Eve to get it all together. In case you forgot.”
“Why don’t you just worry about yourself and stop creeping on my sister?”
“Okay, why don’t we just move ourselves to the side?” I say as Jimmy finishes and the crowd cheers. It seems pretty loud, so maybe they were impressed. I honestly couldn’t tell you if he was good or not because I was a bit distracted.
Atlas approaches us. “Okay, I got a projector for us.” He takes in the group’s tension and places his hands on his hips. “Did I miss something?”
“Nothing at all.” Cole turns to me. “Aren’t you going to tell me to break a leg, babe? Maybe a good luck kiss?”
“See?” Taran points at him. “Pariah.”
“Okay, Taran,” I mutter. Turning toward Cole, I say, “Break a leg.”
“Uh…the kiss?”
I make a dramatic sigh for Taran, then inwardly squeal as I stand on my toes and press a chaste kiss to his lips.
He smiles back at me and goes up onstage with Atlas, who’s wearing a Santa beard for God knows what reason.
They’re the last act to go since Ursula went first. She performed a rendition of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” which wasn’t too bad. It would have been better if she hadn’t messed up the lyrics, saying “four French hens” and “three turtle doves.” But hey, we all get messed up with that song every once in a while. It would have been even better if she hadn’t done it while performing as a ventriloquist.
Or if her puppet’s arm hadn’t fallen off at the end…
I think it will be a battle for last between Ursula and herarmless puppet…and the stiff-as-a-charcuterie-board-lacking-in-cheese Beatrice.
The café crowd turns quiet while both Atlas and Cole take a seat on stools brought out onto the stage. The lights dim down, not too dark but just dark enough to see the projection on the screen behind them, and when it focuses, my heart swells in my chest. Because I remember that boy on the screen. Cole in matching plaid flannels with his parents. His mom wearing a Santa hat, and his dad in a Santa beard. Atlas and Cole are wearing the same thing, bringing the picture to life, but in a different way.
Then Atlas strums the guitar, Cole brings the mic up to his mouth, and in a deep, rich timbre, he starts singing “Blue Christmas.”
My hand immediately goes to my chest as his eyes shut, the lyrics conveying the pain of missing his parents during Christmas. Atlas plays the guitar subtly in the background, and Cole’s voice takes the lead as the café is enamored by the performance.
“Oh my God,” I say softly, staring up at them. Cole’s past, matched with his present. Atlas filling in the role of his family, matching the traditions Cole once shared with his family.
Tears well in my eyes, and I attempt to tell myself not to get too emotional, not to get caught up in the beautiful moment onstage because I can feel Taran watching me, but I can’t help it.
His voice is beautiful.
The gesture is heartwarming.
The meaning behind it all, a son singing to his late parents, has me in a bucket of emotions.
