Always, in December by Emily Stone

Chapter Twenty

The taxi pulled up on a side street in Edinburgh. You could just about see Edinburgh Castle in the distance, almost seeming to blend with the grey sky above, and Josie thought how the city seemed like a world of its own, like it could easily be gated off, the people inside living completely separately from the rest of the world. She loved the combination of the city-feel, the grandeur of it, combined with the sensation that it wouldn’t take long to get to know it, to be able to walk the whole city without needing a map. Like you’d be able to find comfort in the small familiarity of the place, yet also be able to find secret nooks and crannies if you wanted to.

Erin glanced at Josie as they got out the car, then reached out to shake Max’s arm. ‘We should show Josie round Edinburgh later, Max.’

Josie twisted her lips. ‘Am I that obvious?’

Erin smiled, and linked an arm through Josie’s as they followed Max, taking Josie a little by surprise. ‘I remember the feeling. I might be Scottish, but I grew up in Glasgow, and I still remember the first time I saw this city.’

‘So do you still live here now?’ Josie asked and Erin nodded. Josie glanced at Max, who was walking a little ahead of them. ‘And you, Max?’ she asked, raising her voice.

He glanced back at them, and his eyes seemed to flicker as he clocked Erin and Josie’s arms, linked together. ‘Huh?’ he said with a frown.

‘Do you live in Edinburgh now?’ Josie pressed.

‘Oh, no,’ he said, looking back in front of him. ‘I’m in Bristol at the moment.’ Josie nodded slowly. So, he and Erin weren’t living together then – she wondered what that meant.

Max led them to number seventy-two and rang the bell, Josie feeling a little uncomfortable with Erin’s arm through hers. Either it was some weird girl power play going on, along the lines of keep your enemies closer, or else Erin was actually genuinely making an effort to be friendly, which made it decidedly more difficult to hate her. On top of that, the fact that Max wouldn’t tell her what they were doing here, and that Erin seemed totally ok with the not knowing, was making her stomach curdle anxiously.

It was a grumpy-looking man, in his forties at a guess, who answered the door. He was a little scrawny, his beard and brown hair both peppered with grey. His face was brown, skin slightly leathery, like he’d spent a lot of time somewhere hot, somewhere other than Scotland. He narrowed his eyes, frowning with very bushy eyebrows. Those eyes, even squinted, were almost turquoise, the colour of the ocean on a bright day, and they travelled over the three of them suspiciously.

Erin smiled brightly. ‘Hello again, Geoff.’

When the man’s – Geoff, apparently – eyes only narrowed further, so much so that Josie was surprised he could still see out of them, Max sighed. ‘I told you we were coming, no need to act so shocked.’

Geoff grunted. ‘Right. Fine, fine, come in.’ His voice was a little gruff, his accent difficult to place – Irish originally, Josie thought, but with hints of the north of England, and possibly Australia, that suggested he’d lived a somewhat nomadic life. He turned and walked away, moving with a grace that seemed at odds with the rest of his appearance, into the dim house, leaving the door open behind him. Max gestured Josie and Erin inside and shut the door behind them. Josie bit her lip as she followed Erin further in. Had Max brought her to see a friend, a relative? If so, why all the secrecy?

The house was a little stuffy, like no windows had been open in a while, the living room the man led them to untidy, stacks of books overflowing the bookshelf into piles on the floor, the wooden table in the middle of the room, between two mismatched armchairs, covered in coffee ring stains. There was no TV, though an expensive computer sat in one corner on a wooden desk, the keyboard buried under bits of paper. The walls were bare, apart from one photograph above the little fireplace – a murky river, surrounded in reeds, with the eyes of a crocodile just visible over the water, staring out at them. Josie felt a little shiver run down her spine at the sight of it – both for the photo and the moment of it, the intensity.

‘Suppose you’ll all be wanting a drink, will you?’ Geoff asked, his voice practically a growl.

‘That would be great.’ Max seemed to be trying hard to make his voice overly friendly, a direct contradiction to his friend. He was good at it, when he wanted to be – that charm that he sometimes seemed to hide behind. ‘Coffee?’

Geoff shook his head. ‘Only got tea, and the straight kind. Coffee gives me an upset stomach.’

‘Tea it is then,’ Max said.

‘I’d love a tea,’ Erin said. Then all three of them looked at Josie.

‘Yes, tea would be lovely, thanks.’ She fixed a bright smile to her face, which Geoff didn’t return. He didn’t ask how they took it, only glided out through the door, into the kitchen presumably.

Max sat himself on one of the armchairs, slouching, looking completely at home, and Erin perched on the arm next to him, saying nothing. Josie let her gaze travel around the room, resting on two big, hardback books on the desk by the computer. The one on top looked like it was a collection of wildlife photography. Josie took a step towards it, and felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

I’m sorry!!! I only just plugged my phone in. Where are you??? I can be ready in five.

Josie shook her head as she read the WhatsApp, and was about to reply when Geoff reappeared, surprisingly quickly. He handed them each a mug – Josie’s was the yellow one you got with the Mini Eggs Easter egg.

‘It’s black,’ he said, in a voice that strongly suggested not to contest that. ‘No milk in the house. I’m lactose intolerant.’ He plopped himself in the other armchair, wrapping both hands around his own mug. With the only two seats now taken, Josie could only hover awkwardly. Erin shot her an encouraging look, though Josie had no idea why.

‘Josie,’ said Max, ‘this is the friend I told you about. Geoffrey Gilligan.’ He gestured to Geoff and Josie smiled politely, though she had no recollection of Max mentioning a particular friend to her. ‘Geoffrey,’ continued Max, ‘this is Josie. The girl I mentioned.’

Geoffrey Gilligan . . . The name sprang to life in her mind, and her gaze snapped to the photography book on the desk, the crocodile eyes on the wall. A memory of that Brooklyn bar, of Max telling her that he had a good photographer friend, that he could introduce her, if she liked. Josie sucked in a breath, looked at the man. ‘You’re Geoffrey Gilligan?’ She lurched towards him, stretching out a hand.

‘That’s what he just said, isn’t it?’ He took her hand, his grip firm and strong. He looked like he was still frowning, though she wasn’t sure if that was just because of his bushy eyebrows, whether they always looked pulled together like that.

‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t . . .’ She took a breath. ‘It’s so nice to meet you.’

‘Not what you expected, am I?’ he said with that slight growl.

Josie shook her head. ‘No, I . . . I just meant Max didn’t warn . . . Or that I didn’t, I wasn’t expecting—’

‘It’s the work that should be impressive, not the man – or woman – behind it.’ He waved a hand to encompass his body. ‘Doesn’t matter what I look like.’

‘No, of course not,’ she said quickly. ‘You caught me off-guard, that’s all.’ If Max had just warned her, then she wouldn’t be coming across like a blundering idiot right now. And had Erin known? The way she was smiling made it look like she had, which seemed bloody weird in Josie’s opinion. The two of them, teaming up in a show of let’s be friends with Max’s ex-conquest. She took a breath, fighting to claw herself back. ‘I think you – your work, that is – is incredible. I saw the exhibition at Somerset House and I—’

But he waved his hand, cut her off, and looked at Max instead. ‘You told me the girl had talent, Max, not that she was a fan girl.’

Josie felt herself flush, both at the words themselves and at the fact he was talking about her as if she weren’t in the room. She wanted, so badly, to glare at Max, but Geoffrey was watching her now. She looked him straight in the eye, straightened her spine a little. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t ask Max to . . . Well. And I don’t have talent, it’s just a hobby, I play around with it, but I do really admire—’

He cut her off again with his hand. ‘I’ll be the one to decide if you have talent or not.’ He held out that same hand, glancing deliberately at the camera she still had strapped across her.

She only gripped it more tightly. ‘They’re only of the last couple of days, and that’s only been for fun, they’re not edited or anything yet.’

He kept his hand out. ‘Well, that way I’ll be able to tell if you’re any good, without you faffing around with filters or whatnot.’

Slowly, she took the camera out of its bag and passed it to him. He immediately turned his attention to it and she wrapped her arms around herself, not knowing what to do with her body. ‘Really,’ she insisted, ‘I didn’t ask Max, I don’t want a favour, I’m not—’

‘I know that.’ His voice, though still gravelly, was more patient this time as he focused on her camera, not her. He flicked a glance to where she was standing, biting her lip. ‘But Max here can be pushy when he wants to be, I know it. He got you here, didn’t he?’ Max only grinned, and at that, Josie’s glare finally cut loose. Geoffrey laughed at that. ‘Quite.’ His expression softened a little, his eyebrows flattening out as he looked directly at Max. ‘Though I’d say it’d be nice to see a little more of that pushiness coming through again – it’s been missing for the last year or so, hasn’t it?’

Max sipped his tea. ‘It’s coming back to me, every now and then.’

‘Glad to hear it. Now be quiet.’ He flicked through the first few photos, glanced at Max. ‘I take it these are your work.’

Josie grimaced – the photos of her and Erin, in the field. ‘Yep,’ said Max, stretching out his legs. ‘I’m discovering my talent late in life.’

Geoffrey made no comment, just kept looking through the photos. Josie let go of her arms, twisted her hands in front of her, knowing she was holding her breath but unable to stop. She felt unbelievably vulnerable, standing there while someone in the industry appraised her work, while Max and his bloody girlfriend sat there on the same chair, looking all smug.

Geoffrey looked up, grunted, and handed the camera back to her. ‘Talent, yes.’ He took a sip of his tea.

When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything else, Josie bit her lip. ‘Umm, thanks.’ He stared at her for a moment and though she felt heat creep into her cheeks, she didn’t drop the gaze, sensing somehow that it was the wrong thing to do in that moment.

‘Email me some of your best work,’ he said eventually. He got up, crossed to the desk, and moved a couple of things around, then came back to her with a business card. She took it.

‘I, umm, have an Instagram account.’

He shook his head and those eyebrows pulled together. ‘No. I hate all that social media crap.’

Max rolled his eyes. ‘Really, Geoff, you’d think you were ninety, not forty-five.’

Geoffrey huffed. ‘Calling out my age in front of two pretty girls now, are we?’ He stood, took Max’s mug without checking to see if he was finished, then took Erin’s when she offered it. Josie, realising she still had most of her tea left, hastily took a sip. ‘No,’ he said, looking at her. ‘Take your time. I’ll get the rest of us another, see if I can hunt up some biscuits.’

The moment he was out the room, Josie spun to Max, trying hard to control her expression, being as how Erin was currently sat between them. ‘You could have warned me,’ she hissed.

‘But then you would have said no.’

She folded her arms, fighting the urge to throw a strop. Erin gave Max a look that Josie couldn’t interpret, but Max only shook his head at her, then looked at Josie. ‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ he said.

Both of them were looking at her now. Jesus, talk about pressure. She pulled a hand through her hair. ‘I am, I suppose.’ She made herself take a sip of tea, hoping it would settle her, though the liquid was more tepid than hot now. ‘I am,’ she repeated, and let go all intention of getting in a huff about it. Memo had always told her it wasn’t an attractive quality. She glanced round the room again, sighed. ‘It’s seriously cool.’ And she wished she had someone to tell, someone who understood the industry, who would understand just how seriously cool it was.

Geoffrey came back in, carrying a stool that she presumed must be from the kitchen, which she perched on, helping herself to a ginger-nut biscuit when he offered them round. After about half an hour of small talk, which consisted largely of Max and Geoffrey jibing at one another, while she and Erin sipped their teas politely, the three of them left or, more accurately, Geoffrey kicked them out. He stood in the doorway as they turned back to thank him.

‘Email me,’ he said to Josie, with command in his voice. ‘I’ll see if there’s anything I can do to help.’

For once, she didn’t protest that it was just a hobby. Instead, she asked something that had been playing on her mind a fair bit over the last few months. ‘It’s not too late? To start? I’m nearly thirty.’

He squinted his eyes shut, placed a hand dramatically on his forehead. ‘Oh, the horror. You’ll be decrepit soon enough.’ He dropped his hand, looked at her. ‘No,’ he said evenly. ‘There’s no age limit. It’s not like being a model.’

Josie smiled. ‘No, and thank God I never wanted to do that. I like wine and cheese far too much.’

He cracked a smile at that, then nodded to Erin. ‘You still looking out for him?’

‘I am,’ she said. Josie tried not to squirm as Geoffrey nodded.

‘That’s something, then.’ He turned, clapped Max on the back. ‘Two women, hey? Can’t be that bad now, can it?’ Max grinned, and Josie flushed, while Erin just prodded Max in the ribs, like she was in on the joke. ‘Don’t be a stranger, alright?’

Max returned the one-armed hug. ‘I’ll do my best, but no promises.’

‘Can’t say fairer than that.’ And with a small salute, Geoffrey shut the door, practically in their faces. Josie led the way back to the street, feeling like a third wheel again. She frowned as she walked. She’d let herself be manoeuvred into this, even if she was pleased with the outcome. Was it a bad thing? Was this just another example of her being a massive pushover?

Josie heard Erin murmuring something to Max behind her, and felt the back of her neck prickle, even if she couldn’t hear what it was. Then Erin split away from Max, came to link her arm through Josie’s again. What the hell was that about? ‘So,’ Erin said. ‘I think you deserve a drink after that, what do you reckon?’

Josie hesitated – a drink cosied up with Max and Erin was not exactly how she wanted to spend the afternoon. ‘Well, we need to be back at the castle soon . . .’

‘Oh, don’t be silly,’ Erin said breezily, tightening her grip on Josie’s elbow. ‘We’ve got tons of time.’

Josie resisted the urge to glance back at Max for help – but really, shouldn’t he be on her side here? Surely he didn’t want the three of them holed up together? Or maybe, if Erin’s relaxed demeanour was anything to go by, he’d already told Erin about her, told her that Josie meant nothing, and that’s why Erin was so laid back about the whole thing. Well, Josie thought, frowning slightly, if that was the case then she could be fine with it too, couldn’t she?

‘Ok,’ she said out loud. ‘But let’s go for coffee – not alcohol. I don’t want to turn up to Laura’s farewell dinner already tipsy.’ That, and she didn’t think it was a good idea to have her inhibitions lowered right now.

‘Deal,’ Erin said with a nod, and proceeded to steer Josie through the city, down the famous Princes Street that was bustling with people, up a little slope and through some gardens, chatting away as she did so, apparently with a very clear idea on where she was headed. Five minutes into their walk, Erin seemed to realise that Max was still lagging behind and turned to demand that he caught up. She looked at Josie with those bright blue eyes – eyes that were hard not to feel jealous of. ‘Honestly, you’d think we were forcing him to board the Titanic or something.’

Josie managed a weak smile, whilst a part of her wondered vaguely what would happen if Erin and Bia went head to head. Once Max came alongside them, Erin linked arms with him too and steered both of them onto a new street – Broughton Street, Josie read, partly because she was deliberately trying to pay attention to anything other than Max, now that they were close enough to touch, if it weren’t for his tall, slim, beautiful – and, so far, lovely – girlfriend between them.

Erin carried on talking – either unaware or determined to ignore the awkwardness – providing little titbits of history as they went. Personal history, rather than stuff to make the travel books – like where she and her friends had spent Ceilidh-Salsa dancing outside on New Year’s Eve, or where Erin’s friend had got so drunk she’d actually been sick behind the bin. It made Josie smile in spite of herself, picturing the city as something more than a beautiful tourist spot, but somewhere people actually lived, did stupid things, got into trouble.

Then, ‘Voila!’ Erin announced, stopping abruptly outside a little café. ‘We spent many hours in this place at university studying for our finals, Josie.’ She smiled, a trace of something sad – nostalgia, perhaps – crossing her face. ‘Do you remember, Max?’

Josie looked over at him to see him nodding, that half smile playing across his lips. ‘I do indeed.’ Oh great. A coffee shop that held nice, romantic memories for the two of them – wasn’t that just perfect?

It was a small-looking café from the outside, tucked away, with a black staircase leading down on one side and a wooden sign over the red door that offset the grey exterior. Artisan Roast.

Erin released Josie’s arm, and Josie took a subtle step away, pretending to examine the outside of the little building while Erin checked her phone. She heard Erin mutter, ‘Damn’, and turned around. Erin looked up, glancing between Max and Josie. ‘I completely forgot, I said I’d grab a drink with a friend of mine today – she’s having boyfriend drama.’ Erin’s cheeks flushed, ever so slightly, after she said it. So, Josie thought, maybe not quite as oblivious as she pretended to be.

‘Which friend?’ Max asked. Was it just her, or was there a hint of suspicion in his voice? But that was ridiculous – Erin was the one who suggested this, why would she be trying to get out of it now?

‘Amy,’ Erin said immediately. ‘Remember Amy?’

Max just stared at her for a moment, then said, ‘Fine. Invite her along. She can come for coffee.’

‘Yes!’ Josie agreed, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, from the way both Max and Erin looked at her. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t mind if your friend came, Erin.’ That way, it wouldn’t be just the three of them.

Erin frowned. ‘Don’t be silly, you don’t even know Amy – and you don’t want to hear all about her issues, trust me, it’s enough to dampen anyone’s mood. No, no,’ she carried on, as both Max and Josie opened their mouths again, ‘this is a celebratory coffee, Josie. You and Max go in and grab one and I’ll go and see her for a quick drink down the road, ok? I won’t be long – she works at a pub and is due back on her shift in a bit.’ She gave them both a broad smile and, literally leaving them no choice, turned away and sauntered off down the road, blonde hair swishing as she went.

For a moment, Josie and Max just stood there, neither of them saying anything. Then Max cleared his throat, making Josie jump slightly. ‘Well, shall we?’ He gestured towards the red door.

Josie nodded. ‘Right. Sure.’ No need to feel awkward, she told herself firmly. They’d spent the whole morning together, for Christ’s sake.

Not alone, an annoyingly superior voice whispered in the back of her mind.

Max held the door open for her, and she felt her arm brush up slightly against his as she stepped through. She snatched it back firmly. Who made doorways so damn narrow, anyway? It wasn’t practical.

The café inside was intimate and classy – wooden flooring, lighting that managed to feel almost bar-like in quality, with a blackboard at the back of the room. The smell of coffee was gorgeous, with something else mixed in there too – something sweeter yet distinct, like ginger – and the sound of grinding coffee beans made Josie relax slightly. It was just coffee. Coffee in a well-lit, comfortably warm room. She slipped off her jacket, let Max get the drinks as she found a table – one of the round ones with little bar stools around it.

‘Thanks,’ Josie said as Max set down a fancy-looking coffee in front of her – in a tall glass like a latte, the milky brown of the top part merging with the almost russet brown of the coffee below.

‘I didn’t know what you wanted,’ Max said almost apologetically as he sat down on the stool next to her – a healthy, safe distance apart, she was happy to see. And if the space between their knees seemed to hum, that was nothing, it was only the warmth of the air in here, that was all.

Josie took a sip and tasted the ginger she smelled in the air. ‘It’s delicious.’

‘The house speciality,’ Max said, his voice carrying more of that teasing tone she’d got used to. They both went quiet again, taking sips of their coffee. Josie made a show of looking around the café, noting that it was getting fuller by the minute, in an attempt to distract from the cringeworthy awkwardness. God, it hadn’t been like this last night, out in the castle grounds. But then, she hadn’t had those helpful glasses of wine today, and unlike a moment stolen in the shadows, here in the daylight, in a room full of people, it was all too easy to remember that he had left her – that he had left her, and that he was now with someone else, so nothing could happen between them again.

‘So, what do you think?’ Max asked. ‘Will you drop Geoff a line?’

Josie winced as she took a too large swallow of her drink, the top of her mouth burning slightly. She looked away as she coughed. Nice, Josie. ‘Yes,’ she said. And saying it out loud made her realise the truth of it. She nodded, tilting her chin up a little. ‘Yes,’ she said again, more decisively. ‘I will. Who knows what’ll happen, but it’s worth a try, right?’

He nodded. ‘Couldn’t agree more.’

She hesitated, then said, quietly, ‘Thank you.’ She looked him right in the eye, those gorgeous, two-toned eyes. ‘Really. Even if nothing comes of it . . . Thank you. For thinking of me.’

His gaze lingered on her face in a way that made her nerves tingle. ‘I do, you know,’ he murmured.

Her breath hitched. ‘What?’

‘Think of you.’

What a thing to say. She wanted to be mad, to hate him for it. But their gazes met and held for a beat too long. And in that moment, Josie was back in the bar at Christmas, sipping cocktails in the corner, feeling his skin pressed against hers, hearing his voice as he whispered to her over the din of the music. The memory of it – of what happened later that night – flooded through her in a hot wave. She blinked, and was back in the coffee shop, a toddler crying in the corner, the coffee machine whirring. Taking a slow breath, she looked down at her coffee, wishing then that she’d asked for an iced tea instead.

‘So,’ she said, still not looking at him. ‘You and Erin.’ A way to remind herself, as well as him. There was no point in ignoring it, anyway, and better to get it out in the open.

Max rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. ‘Yeah, look, Josie, about that—’

‘I’m not asking for an explanation,’ Josie said quickly. She didn’t want him to think she needed one, not after so long. ‘I just meant . . . She seems nice.’

‘She is,’ Max said, and for some reason, even though she’d said it first, Josie’s stomach dropped a little. ‘But it’s just . . . Erin, she’s . . .’

But what exactly Erin was Josie didn’t get the chance to find out, because at that moment two ladies, one wearing a tartan skirt, the other a tartan cap pushed to one side like a fashion statement, came up to their table.

‘Do you mind if we share your table?’ the woman in the skirt asked. American, Josie noted. ‘It’s just, there’s nowhere else to sit right now.’

‘Oh,’ Josie said. ‘Well . . .’

‘It’s top rated on Trip Advisor,’ the woman in the cap piped up, looking at Josie with such an endearing smile out of a slightly plump face, that Josie felt guilty for hesitating.

Josie glanced at Max. ‘I guess?’ She made it into a question.

‘Great!’ the skirt said, taking that as a firm invitation. ‘We won’t bother you guys, I promise, you enjoy your date.’

Josie grimaced. Then, when she saw Max making the same expression, laughed a little. His expression softened too as he met her gaze. The two women grabbed stools from a neighbouring table, and squished themselves round in a way that clearly indicated the table was not made for more than two.

‘Do you mind just scooting up a little?’ the woman in the skirt asked and Josie, politeness too ingrained, obliged, as did Max next to her. And with that, the space between them disappeared. Crowded round the little table, her elbows tucked in as she cupped her drink, Josie felt Max’s leg touch hers – and, with nowhere to go, it stayed there.

Her skin prickled with electricity and she felt her heart pick up speed. Next to her, she was aware of Max looking down at his drink, refusing to look at her, even as the heat between their bodies pulsed. God, she could smell him this close, that mix of classy aftershave and something that was just all him.

Dimly, Josie was aware of the women at the table talking, something about the Royal Mile and whisky, but the exact words washed over her, like they were outside a bubble, and she and Max were alone inside it. The coffee machine, the toddler crying, the sound of people laughing – all of it sounded distant, separate, every inch of her body focused purely on the feeling of Max against her.

And then Max’s phone buzzed. He jumped, and Josie sucked in her breath as he reached into his pocket.

‘It’s Erin,’ he muttered, his voice slightly husky. ‘She’s outside.’

Josie nodded, and without another word, stood up. ‘I’ll just go to the bathroom, and I’ll meet you out there.’ Not giving him the chance to respond, she turned away and rushed towards the ladies’ room. In there, she stared at herself in the mirror, taking slow breaths. Get a grip, she told herself. And get over it. Another deep breath, and she felt, if not ready, then as ready as she was ever going to be to face them both again.

The air was cooler outside the coffee shop than she remembered, the breeze fizzing off her hot skin. Erin and Max were right there, by the black metal stair barrier, but neither looked over as she closed the door behind her.

‘Well?’ Erin was saying. ‘Did you tell her?’

Josie halted, her heart lurching.

‘Give me a break, Erin, it’s not that easy.’

‘I’ll take that as a no.’ Erin’s voice was clipped, harsher than the one she’d used earlier today. So maybe she wasn’t quite as happy and easy-going as she made herself out to be. She wanted Max to tell her. Josie let that sink in for a moment. How far did it go? What commitment had they made to one another? She closed her eyes for a brief second. No. Best not to let herself go down that route.

‘Josie.’

Josie jolted at the sound of Erin’s voice, the harshness now gone, as if it had never been there. Josie looked at her, and Erin smiled. And she couldn’t, even if she’d wanted to, hate this woman. Because even in the midst of this, Erin wasn’t blaming her for it, didn’t hate her for her history with Max.

‘Hi,’ Josie said, refusing to look at Max even as his gaze sought hers. She stepped towards them – just one step.

‘I’ll order us a taxi, shall I?’ Erin said, pulling out her phone. No further mention of drinks, of celebration. And Josie counted herself lucky because of that.

The three of them stood awkwardly on the side of the road, Josie on one side of the shop, Max and Erin on the other. And when the taxi came, Josie got in the front seat, away from the two of them, before anyone could insist otherwise.