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.”
“Then why the smile?”
“Because I just figured something out about you,” she said, still smiling.
“Is that right?”
Her expression teased. “Yep. I figured out that you’re nothing but a big softy.”
He couldn’t help it—he smiled too—and he felt a slight chink in the suit of armor he wore to keep him safe. “I’m really not.”
“But you are,” she said. “Why do you pretend to be so uncaring all the time?”
He didn’t want to talk about all the reasons why. “Will you help me or not?”
Her smile skittered away, and just like that, he’d done it again. Ruined the moment.
Idiot.
She picked up a towel and wiped the counter. “Would you be standing in for her dad? I heard they usually dance at every recital.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m hoping I can talk him into it, but I’m not holding my breath.”
“You saw how far I got when I asked him,” she said.
He shrugged softly in reply.
“So, you need me to choreograph something for you and Amelia?”
“And keep me from making a complete fool of myself,” he said.
She avoided his eyes. “That’s why you came here tonight—to ask me to help you with this dance.”
“Yeah,” he said, as if it were obvious. “It just took me a little while because this is kind of embarrassing.”
“Right.” She looked away.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No, of course not.” She looked around at the dishes still littering the counter. “I figured it was something like that.” She half-laughed. “I mean, why else would you come here and make dinner and spend time with me and help clean up the kitchen?” She ran a hand over her hair, which was neatly gathered at the back of her head in a high ponytail.
Why did he feel like he’d said the wrong thing?
She turned around and opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of water, and took a drink—a long one.
“Are you okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” she said.
“Look, I don’t know anything about dancing, but I do know I have less of a chance of looking like a complete disaster if you help me.”
“I don’t know, Cole.” She closed the refrigerator and walked into the living room.