Always, in December by Emily Stone
Chapter Seventeen
When Josie got to the ‘Croquet Room’ there were already about forty people there, which, when combined with the tables – three circular and a long, L-shaped bench around one side and corner of the room – made it feel a little on the small side. She supposed that was, in part, the point – an intimate feel for this pre-wedding dinner, with a select sixty or so guests. Laura’s family was small, Josie knew – no siblings and only one aunt and uncle – so presumably that was why she had a few more friends to fill her side. It was nice, Josie told herself firmly, that she was one of those friends. There was no reason to listen to the way her stomach was curdling ever so slightly as she shuffled into the room alone, as a few eyes she didn’t recognise flickered towards her. No reason at all.
She turned her attention to the room itself, which had a light, bright feel: cream-coloured walls with landscape paintings dotted around sporadically, an open fireplace with a roaring fire despite the warm day, and candles on the tables as well as on the mantelpiece above the fire. The tables were covered in white tablecloths, the glassware almost seeming to sparkle, and they would be sitting on gold-backed chairs with blue cushioned seats.
Josie saw Laura by the fireplace, looking stunning in a black dress with bright blue and red butterflies, cinched at the waist with a slim, white belt and finishing just above the knee to show off her tanned legs. Her hair was down in soft, blonde curls – a more feminine look than she usually went for, perfect for a bride-to-be, but not overly simpering or virginal, which wouldn’t have suited her in the slightest. She was with John, who had trimmed his beard, and who wasn’t the only one in a kilt tonight, and a few others, deep in conversation. Instead of going to interrupt, Josie went in search of her name place, and found it on one of the round tables, next to an ‘Erin’ one side and a ‘Graeme’ the other. She bit her lip at the thought of being sandwiched between two people she’d never met.
She’d only been standing there for a second when she turned to the sound of squeals and saw Jess and Tom bounding up to her from the publicity and marketing team at Peacock’s. The huffed laugh she let out was part relief at seeing people she knew. They looked exactly as she remembered them from last year – Jess, slightly on the short and plump side, was beaming, her round face a little pink already, and Tom was still as skinny as he always had been, despite starting up a protein-shake endeavour just before she’d left. A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she returned the hugs and the ‘Oh my God it’s been for ever’s. She’d sat opposite Jess for two years, and even if her face had mostly been obscured by the computer screen during that time, they’d dealt with the same mood swings in the office, sat through the same meetings, had the same small talk every Monday morning. Strange that you went from seeing someone almost every day to them just dropping out of your life like that – a bit like a relationship, but one where it was expected to be transient.
A waiter, dressed smartly in a tux, came into the room and rang a gold bell, which caused Jess and Tom to smirk. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, dinner will be served shortly, if you wouldn’t mind taking your seats.’
‘Don’t think we’d mind, would we?’ said Tom, pulling out his seat next to Jess, leaving Josie sitting awkwardly between two empty chairs as they waited for the other three people to join their table of six. It was all about the even numbers at weddings, wasn’t it?
‘So, where are you staying, Josie?’ Jess asked, leaning across the table to be heard over the chatter of the room.
Josie eyed up the bread basket that a waiter brought out and wondered if it was too soon to help herself to a roll, given the table wasn’t full yet. ‘In Buttercup.’ Then, when Jess looked blank, ‘In the castle.’
Jess gave a little wistful sigh, while Tom pouted. ‘We’re in a hotel,’ Jess explained.
‘Yeah, and we’re sharing a twin room,’ Tom added. ‘The height of glamour.’
‘It was cheaper,’ Jess said primly, ‘so I don’t know what you’re—’
‘There,’ hissed Tom, nudging Jess sharply in the ribs and jerking his head. ‘That’s the guy. He’s a plus one, I swear it, he didn’t seem to know either John or Laura when I asked him about it.’
Jess sighed. ‘You’re being ridiculous. Stop.’ She pushed his head back, then rolled her eyes at Josie. ‘He’s sulking because he wasn’t allowed to add his plus one last-minute, even though we are lucky’ –she put emphasis on the word and added a stern look at Tom for good measure – ‘to be invited to the pre-dinner at all. Besides,’ she added, fluffing up her hair, ‘you only started seeing the guy two weeks ago, what did you expect Laura to say?’ Josie felt a smile pulling at her lips, hours of office banter coming back to her.
Tom shook his head, helping himself to the bottle of sparkling water on the table. ‘When you know, you know.’
‘Are you also seeing someone, Jess?’ Josie asked.
‘Yes, but I decided not to bring him – it’s only been two months, would have been a bit intense.’ She gave Tom a meaningful look, but he only shrugged.
‘Josie’s with me, right, Jose?’
Josie decided that her safest option, at that moment, was to say nothing and the argument was effectively cut off by the presence of a rather fat man, in his fifties at a guess, looming over their table, then doing a slow lap, apparently unbothered by the fact Josie, Jess and Tom were all watching him do so. He stopped at the empty space on Josie’s left, peered down at it, then nodded and pulled out the chair.
Jess and Josie exchanged a slight frown as he sat in the seat between them, forcing them both to move their chairs sideways a little to accommodate his bulk. He wiped his shining brow – apparently the effort of sitting down was all too much – and then turned his beady eyes, which looked smaller because of the rolls of fat on his face, on Jess then Josie in turn, without acknowledging Tom. ‘So,’ he said with an incredibly heavy Scottish accent, ‘ye girls are my dinner companions then, are ye?’
Josie cleared her throat. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ She became acutely aware of how posh her accent sounded. ‘I’m—’
He frowned and leaned towards her, his chair audibly creaking with the movement. ‘What’s tha’? I cannae hear you, lassie, ye’ll have to speak up, I’ve a bit of an ear infection.’
Josie shot a slightly alarmed look at Jess, which she tried to cover with a smile. ‘Josie,’ she said, more loudly than felt comfortable. He nodded, not making her repeat it, thank God. She glanced at the now two empty seats on her right. This man, surely, could not be John’s friend’s plus one – so that explained the last empty seat – but maybe he knew Erin somehow? It seemed a bit of an odd addition to the table otherwise, and Laura wasn’t the type to assign people to tables randomly.
‘I’m Graeme,’ he said with a nod.
‘And, err, how do you know the bride and groom?’ Josie asked politely, disconcerted that his attention now seemed to be focused solely on her.
‘John’s uncle,’ he grunted, helping himself to the bread on the table. Well, if he had, then surely she could too. But her hand was only halfway to the bread basket when Graeme’s booming voice started up again. ‘I was supposed to be on tha’ table over there,’ he said, glaring at the table in question, which was home to five people around his age, chatting away merrily.
‘Oh,’ said Josie. ‘Right.’
‘But my wife left me.’ He was still glaring at the table, and Josie wondered which of those people was his wife. The petite woman who’d decided to own her greying hair or the friendly looking brunette with a glass of something in hand? Neither seemed a likely candidate.
‘Oh,’ Josie said again. She shot a glance at Jess, trying to bring her into the conversation, but she and Tom were deep in conversation about something, Jess pursing her lips at whatever Tom was whispering to her. Great. ‘Well, that’s . . . Gosh, I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘Left me fer a younger model,’ he said gruffly, his expression twisting in a way that actually made Josie feel sorry for him. He slathered his bread in butter, fixing Josie with a look as he took a big bite of it. ‘Writer type,’ he said, and a tiny piece of that bread came flying back out of his mouth, very nearly landing on Josie’s cheek. She tried to edge away as subtly as she could. ‘A total roaster,’ Graeme continued. Josie nodded, having no idea what he meant by that, but presuming it was some kind of insult. ‘No money at all. You just watch, she’ll regret it. But I won’t be having her back, ye hear me?’ He glared at Josie, as if she’d suggested the opposite.
‘No,’ Josie said quickly. ‘No of course not.’ What the hell were Jess and Tom talking about? And where the hell was John’s friend Erin? She’d gladly take anyone to get out of this conversation right now.
‘Anyway,’ Graeme said, narrowing his eyes again at the table he’d apparently been supposed to be sitting at. ‘I told John I wouldnae sit over there with all of her friends.’ So, maybe the wife wasn’t even here? Josie didn’t dare ask. ‘I told him he had t’ move me when I saw the plan for tonight.’ Josie nodded, inwardly thinking how Laura must have hated the last-minute change.
A waiter came round with a bottle of champagne, pouring it into their glasses on the table, which thankfully provided Graeme with a brief distraction from Josie. She’d taken her first grateful sip of the bubbly liquid when a slim, blonde woman approached, wearing a dress of brilliant red, with lipstick to match, her blue eyes framed with gold eyeliner in a way that made them almost scarily blue. Josie choked on her champagne, and saw Graeme frowning at her.
Jess looked around Graeme to give her a quizzical look, but Josie’s attention was on the woman, whose eyes were on Josie now. She raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow.
Fuck, Josie remembered this woman. Erin. Max’s girlfriend. Fuck, fuck. She took another gulp of champagne. What were the bloody chances? She hadn’t even thought it would be the same Erin – why the hell would she? Oh God. Her plus one. Josie felt a jolt and immediately looked around, her eyes still watering from her choking fiasco. She couldn’t see him. So maybe it wouldn’t be him after all – maybe they’d broken up since she’d last seen them, just like her and Oliver.
When she reached the table, Erin’s full, sexy lips quirked into a smile when she saw Josie, though she only looked mildly surprised to see her here – or else she was better at hiding it than Josie. ‘Hi all,’ she said as she took her seat, right next to Josie. ‘I’m Erin.’ Unlike Graeme’s, Erin’s accent was all lilting and musical, and a quick glance at Jess and Tom told Josie that they were having the exact same thoughts that Josie had first had when she’d met Erin in New York – literally no one would be able to look at this woman and not think she was sexy. Graeme was staring at her, his glass of champagne halfway to his mouth, and Josie swore she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d licked his lips. She cringed internally, trying not to let it show on her face.
‘My plus one’s running a little late,’ Erin said, indicating the empty seat. She shot a small smile at Josie, tilted her head. How could even that action just exude class? ‘Nice to see you again.’
Josie forced out the words, ‘You too,’ at the same time as Tom grumbled, ‘See, she’s allowed a plus one.’
Graeme immediately engaged Erin in conversation, which Josie was thankful for, because it meant all she had to do was ‘mmm’ in agreement occasionally, whilst trying both not to study Erin and not to look around the room, waiting for her plus one’s imminent arrival. Her body felt twitchy, unable to concentrate on anything, and she didn’t realise she’d drunk a full glass of champagne until the waiter came round to top her up. The starters – asparagus and poached egg for the vegetarians, asparagus wrapped in Parma ham for the omnivores – were coming out and they were all talking about how they knew the bride and groom – Erin was one of John’s best friends from school, apparently – by the time Erin’s plus one arrived.
And there he was.
Max.
Max, of all bloody people, was here, at her friend’s wedding. Here with his drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend, while she was so completely and obviously single, sat next to John’s fat uncle. She wanted to slam her head down on the table. She wanted to get up and leave, so she didn’t have to face him, so she didn’t have to smile and pretend that she was totally over him, that she had literally not given him a moment’s thought since she’d bumped into him in New York, that of course he’d had nothing to do with why she’d come home again.
But she couldn’t do either of those things. So instead all she could do was watch as he crossed the room towards them, looking uncharacteristically flustered, auburn hair a little messed up, the cuffs of his dark grey shirt not done up properly, his tie on a little wonky. He was thinner than when she’d last seen him, she thought, and his face was a little pale, like he could do with a good night’s sleep, but other than that he looked just as handsome as ever, still moving with the long stride that she remembered so well.
‘Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t we?’ Erin hissed as he sat down.
Max mumbled his apologies, straightened his tie – waving away Erin’s help – then looked over across the table, directly at Josie. Their eyes held, and she felt her heart jolt, even as she refused to look away, refused to let on that she was thrown by it. The rest of the table could have been utterly silent or in full conversational flow, for all she knew in that moment.
Max gave her a small nod, then cleared his throat. ‘Hi,’ he said simply. He didn’t look surprised enough to see her here, she thought bitterly. He was sitting straight, perhaps a little tense, but his gaze was measured on hers. Maybe he’d known she would be here, she thought, given whose wedding it was, whereas she could have had no idea. He’d met Laura and John, hadn’t he? He would have known that she must be coming to Laura’s wedding.
Josie nodded back. ‘Hey.’ Ok, good, her voice sounded even, casual. She took another sip of her champagne, trying to come to terms with the slight stumble of her heart, the automatic flare of her pulse against her wrist. Nearly five months since she’d left him in that Brooklyn gallery and she’d neither seen nor heard from him since – nor, to be fair, had she tried to get in touch herself. Why would she? They’d both been in relationships and even if hers had crashed and burned, his, apparently, had not.
Josie turned to Graeme, angling herself away from Erin and Max. Jess, legend that she was, had clearly picked up some sort of vibe, because she joined in the conversation with Graeme, taking over and merrily chatting away about what her job at Peacock’sentailed, ignoring Graeme’s interjections and allowing Josie to just ‘hmm’ occasionally, whilst trying not to glance over her shoulder, not to listen in to what Tom, Max and Erin were talking about. God, why the hell couldn’t Bia have been here tonight? Josie felt her head throb and set her champagne aside, picking up her sparkling water instead.
As the starters were cleared away, Laura got to her feet in the middle of the long bench table, and everything went quiet. She smiled serenely around the room. ‘Thanks, everyone. As you all know, the main speeches are tomorrow, but it’s my turn this evening. I won’t be saying a word tomorrow, because my only job then is to look beautiful.’ A soft hum of laughter rippled across the room. ‘I just want to thank you all for being here, and for my half of you, thanks for trekking all the way to Scotland.’ She carried on with the thanks, made a few jokes, told of how she’d first met John at an event he was writing up for an online culture site. Her voice was smooth and confident, her posture relaxed – she’d always been good at public speaking, Josie remembered. If she’d ever been nervous about it, she’d never let on.
John was staring at her adoringly, and Josie tried to ignore the little wrench in her stomach at the sight of them. She didn’t think Oliver had ever looked at her quite like that. She also tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed the way Max kept glancing at her, rather than his girlfriend, and the way it was making heat travel along her skin, as Laura raised a toast to the love of her life.
They all clinked glasses, smiling, and clapped as Laura sat down. Josie wondered if Laura had known that Max would be here – whether she even remembered Max from the Christmas party. It wasn’t like she could ask anyway – Laura had far more important things to focus on right now.
Erin started up a conversation around the whole table as waiters came round, offering them red or white wine, talking about the castle and its architectural history. Graeme was stating that all of them knew nothing, that given he had a good twenty years on each and every one of them – Josie thought a little more – he had the authority on the history of the place, like being older automatically meant you became more knowledgeable on everything. Max and Erin were bantering, arguing over one of the structures in the castle in an easy, friendly way, laughing at each other over having done the same research. So, she was an architect. Of course she bloody was. Smart and sexy, the jackpot. Josie took a sip of water, erring on the side of safety for this first evening – she didn’t want to get drunk and say something stupid. She wasn’t bitter. She wasn’t. She also wasn’t concentrating on the conversation, so that when Erin asked, ‘What about you, Josie?’ in an overly polite way, all she could say was, ‘Huh?’
Max’s attention had shot to her, almost like Erin addressing her had given him permission to look at her, and she couldn’t help the quick glance back, even as she flexed her fingers on her glass. ‘What do you think?’ Erin asked, with a small head tilt. ‘Edinburgh or London in terms of best buildings?’
She thought of Max admiring the architecture of Battersea Arts Centre and forced the memory quickly aside, looking very deliberately at Erin and not at him. ‘Edinburgh,’ she said, more confidently than she really should, given her relative lack of knowledge of what made a ‘good’ building. ‘Pretty’ was more what she was going for here. ‘I mean, not that I’ve seen enough of Edinburgh to be sure of that,’ she added, partly because she’d seen Erin’s red lips open, and wanted to cut her off in case she was thinking of arguing. ‘And London is incredible, obviously, and you’ve got all the iconic buildings there. But, well, I love the cobbled streets here, the way the city feels like it’s its own little world – and the buildings are partly what makes that, right?’
She felt Max’s gaze burning the side of her face as she spoke. He shouldn’t do that. It wasn’t fair for him to look at her like that with his girlfriend sat right next to him.
Tom raised his eyebrows; Graeme grunted, like what she’d said had no value, while Jess was busy trying to get the waiter’s attention for more wine. Erin paused, then shrugged. ‘Well,’ she said, glancing at Max from under long, full lashes. ‘Just because one person agrees with you, doesn’t mean you’re right.’
Because of how they were sitting, Josie managed to avoid speaking to Max directly throughout the whole dinner, forcing herself to engage Graeme in more conversation than she would have liked, just so that there weren’t any silences that had to be filled. She couldn’t help comparing her and Max’s situations – he chatting happily with Erin while she was stuck talking to Graeme – even as she told herself not to, that there was no point to it. She excused herself as soon as she feasibly could, right after the Eton Mess dessert. She timed it deliberately while Max was in the toilet so she didn’t have to actively say goodbye, and ignored Jess’s and Tom’s pleas to stay up for ‘just a few’ shots.
‘I want to be on form for tomorrow,’ she insisted. ‘And you two should think about that too,’ she said, with a semi-scolding look at them both. ‘Laura will notice if anyone’s hungover.’
They descended into grumbles, but she could see from the look they gave each other that her comment had hit home. Erin gave her a distant little smile, nodded in a kind of regal way when she said goodbye. Josie made herself smile back, determined to be on her best behaviour. It wasn’t Erin’s fault, after all, that her boyfriend had had a brief fling with Josie nine months ago now. Wasn’t Erin’s fault that seeing him had made Josie realise that she still couldn’t quite get over him, get over the way he’d ended it. But what she could do, she told herself firmly, was accept how things were now. She could and would accept that he’d well and truly moved on, that he was with someone else now. She had to.