Always, in December by Emily Stone
Chapter Ten
It was the cold that woke her the next day. It took a moment to realise that it wasn’t just that the heating had gone off, it was the absence of a warm body next to hers. She sat up, blinking blearily. It was so quiet, like the entire block of flats was sleeping in after a heavy day yesterday. She frowned as she looked over to Max’s side of the bed. The sheets were rumpled, the pillow a little dented. She trailed her fingers over the sheet – it felt cool to the touch.
She frowned, sitting up a little straighter as she strained her ears. No sound of running water from the bathroom, no footsteps in the corridor outside her room. Maybe he was just trying extra hard to be quiet. She stood up, shoving on the clothes she’d abandoned on the floor yesterday evening and crossed the room, peering out of her bedroom door before she stepped through it, like she was worried she would be caught spying. She wrapped her arms around her as she walked through to the living room. The bathroom door was open – no one inside. He wasn’t making coffee in the kitchen or sitting on the sofa reading her book. He was nowhere.
Her heart thudded uncomfortably in her chest and she forced herself to take a breath, shook her head at herself. He’d probably just popped out to get something, gone to pick up breakfast maybe. He hadn’t wanted to wake her up, that was all. She checked the time on the clock over their fake fireplace. Seven a.m. Pretty early to go out to get breakfast, but still. He wouldn’t have just left, surely – there was no reason to, given he was about to go to New York – that was a pretty easy get-out clause, if he really wanted one. Besides, it wasn’t like this was an awkward one-night stand, they’d spent the entire day together after sleeping together, for God’s sake – Christmas Day. You didn’t do that if you didn’t like someone, you just didn’t.
Still, her stomach wouldn’t settle as she set the kettle to boil, and she kept glancing at the door, keeping her ears on high alert as she listened for the sound of footsteps in the corridor. She only noticed the piece of paper when she crossed to the sofa, determined to be found quite content sipping coffee serenely when he returned. It was a page from her notebook, she realised, which she’d left on the coffee table last night – torn out, folded in half, and placed on top of her book. Her name was written on it.
She set the cup of coffee down and snatched the letter up. She had to read it three times before the words actually made their way into her brain, and then she just sank onto the sofa, gripping it tightly in both hands.
Josie, I’m sorry to sneak out on you like this, but my flight is today and I had to get going early to make it – my parents would kill me if I missed this one. I’ve never been good at goodbyes – who is, right? – so I thought it would be easier for both of us like this. I wish I could see you again, but I doubt life will be that kind to me, so I’ll have to settle for these last few days, which have been incredible. You are amazing, and you made missing a flight and getting stuck one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. It meant so much to me, spending Christmas with you, and please know that I will be forever glad I met you. Max.
P.S. I hope you don’t take the ‘sideways move’ or whatever that your company offered you. I think you’re destined for better than that.
That was it. There was no phone number, no suggestion that they at least try to see each other again.
She set the note down on the table, stared at it numbly. She’d known from the beginning that he was only here temporarily, and they’d made each other no promises, but this? This felt like a low blow. Because she was sure that he had in no way been thinking of her when he wrote this. No, he’d clearly wanted to get out before she could suggest they see each other again, wanted to avoid that awkward conversation, to avoid having to think of an excuse that she’d see right through if he said it to her face.
She swallowed down the rock in her throat and stared out the living-room window. Unlike yesterday, it was a bright blue day, the sun already making its presence known, the sky a beautiful orangey-pink. Like somehow the weather was taunting her. She blinked back the tears, telling herself not to cry. She’d only known him a few days – it wasn’t like he’d left her after a year together, after they’d told each other they loved one another, after they’d vowed to spend their lives together. They’d just spent a couple of days together, that was all. The lump grew painful in her throat and she shook her head, trying to block it. No. She shouldn’t feel like this. She shouldn’t.
But she did. She took in a slightly hitched breath. She couldn’t help it. And surely, he must have had some inkling of that. She’d opened up to him, told him about her parents, talked about Oliver. She’d shared the letter to her parents with him, for God’s sake, the tradition of that. He wasn’t thick, he must have known what that meant to her. And then he’d just abandoned her, knowing that she had nowhere to go for Boxing Day, surely knowing that being alone today would not be easy. He could at least have had the decency to wake her – and would it really have cost him so much to let her accompany him to the airport? To let her pretend that it might have meant something to him too?
She stood, grabbing the letter off the table and scrunching it up. She wished she had a fire to throw it into so that she could watch it burn, something symbolic to make herself feel better. Instead she had to settle for tearing it into little pieces, pieces she’d have to vacuum up later.
Her phone buzzed where she’d left it on the kitchen counter and her heart jumped. She practically ran to it, and then had to feel her heart shrink as the weight settled over her once again. Bia.
How was your Christmas?? Is hot guy still there?? Can I call you on WhatsApp or will he be listening in? I want to hear the detaaaaillls.
Josie clutched her phone and pressed her lips together. She couldn’t face it, telling Bia, especially when she wouldn’t understand that she felt like this – how could she? Memo and Helen had both told her to be careful, hadn’t they? They’d both known she’d get caught up in it, even if she hadn’t recognised the danger herself.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she padded back across the flat. The sun was shining through the window, sparkling like it was encouraging everyone watching it to share in its joy. She should have taken more notice of the weather yesterday – a warning, perhaps.
Leaving the torn-up pieces of Max’s letter on the living-room floor, Josie made her way back to her bedroom and, without switching on the light, got back into bed. She closed her eyes and pulled the duvet cover over her bed. And intended to stay there for some time.