Loading Audiobook Player...
Married Before Midnight - Married Before Midnight by Sienna Quinn - Chapter 64
Author: Novels Audio
[audiohtml]https://st42066.ispot.cc/audiobooks/2025/8337.mp3[/audiohtml]
Married Before Midnight
Chapter 64: Movie Night Under the Stars
The lingering traces of Charlotte’s jealousy from the day before had softened into something quieter, something sweeter. As she moved through the familiar rhythm of Sweet Beginnings—rolling dough, dusting flour, stealing glances out the window—there was a lightness to her steps that hadn’t been there before. Even her sisters noticed, exchanging knowing looks whenever she drifted into a daydream mid-task. That evening, just as the bakery was closing, Jameson appeared at the door, his denim shirt neatly pressed, his dark hair slightly tousled from the summer breeze. He handed her a folded note with an invitation scrawled in his messy handwriting: an outdoor screening of Casablanca in Central Park.
Charlotte arched a brow, teasing him for choosing a black-and-white classic when he’d once called them "glorified naps." But the way he looked at her—soft, amused, utterly sincere—made her heart skip. Five minutes later, she emerged in a flowy sundress, her hair loosely tied back, and the two of them walked side by side toward the park. The air was warm, the sky streaked with the last hints of sunset, and the hum of cicadas filled the spaces between their quiet conversation. At the park, couples lounged on blankets beneath the towering oaks, the flickering screen casting shadows over their faces. Jameson spread out a red-checkered blanket and pulled a Walkman from his bag, along with a cassette tape labeled For Charlotte – Side A. She laughed, assuming it was some ironic playlist, but his expression was earnest. "Side A has songs I think you’ll quietly like," he said, handing it to her. "Side B is blank." Charlotte turned the tape over in her hands, curiosity flickering in her chest. "So I get to record over it?" Jameson shook his head, his gaze steady. "No. So you can answer."
The words settled between them, heavy with meaning. As Casablanca played, Charlotte found herself leaning into him, her head resting against his shoulder without thought. The movie’s bittersweet romance wrapped around them, and when Rick let Ilsa go, Charlotte whispered, "Did you know he was going to do that from the beginning?" Jameson’s voice was low, rough with something unspoken. "Yes. But I still hoped this time would be different." The silence that followed was thick with understanding. By the time the credits rolled, Charlotte clutched the cassette tape to her chest, her fingers tracing the label. "Side B… I’ll record it tomorrow." Jameson turned to her, his eyes searching hers. "Then I’ll listen tomorrow."
The walk home was quiet, charged with the weight of what had been said—and what hadn’t. When they reached her porch, the air between them hummed with anticipation. Jameson brushed a stray curl behind her ear, his fingers lingering, and Charlotte’s breath hitched. Just as he leaned in, a delivery truck honked loudly, startling them apart. Flushed and flustered, they exchanged awkward goodbyes, the moment slipping through their fingers like sand. Back inside, Charlotte was met with the wide-eyed stares of her sisters. Hannah, who had been working on the bakery’s ledger, smirked knowingly. "So," she drawled, "how was Casablanca?" The twins, Lillian and Emily, perched on the couch like eager spectators, while Olivia stifled a laugh behind her baking magazine. Even Ava, usually reserved, leaned forward with interest.
Charlotte clutched the Walkman tighter, her cheeks burning, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away.