Always, in December by Emily Stone

Chapter Eight

Josie didn’t hear the rest of the speeches. Occasional words, like celebrate, congratulate and financial, got through the dull ringing in her ears, but she didn’t bother to concentrate to make sense of the wider context. Laura kept flicking her glances, but Josie just stared straight ahead, focusing on making sure she was blinking so that she didn’t look vacant or bored, if anyone important were to glance at her.

How long had he known? Surely he couldn’t have just found out? This was the kind of thing you knew for months before it was announced – you had discussions over the starting date, negotiated a better salary. Which meant he must have known while they were still together, must have been talking to Janice about it in private meetings at the office where they both worked, then just failing to mention it when they got home for the evening. He was planning to uproot his entire life, and he hadn’t even bothered to discuss it with her. She wondered if he’d known Janice was planning to make her redundant too, if that had come up in all their secret talks.

Her eyes were stinging now, though she couldn’t work out if she was angry or sad. She took a steady breath and tried to keep blinking. She felt a warm pressure on her right hand and looked down to see Max squeezing it. ‘Are you ok?’ he whispered. Josie nodded, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him directly. God, what must he think? He’d come along for a fun Christmas party and here she was, trying not to cry. Laura shoved a drink into her other hand – Josie suspected it was Laura’s second, untouched glass of Prosecco – and Josie took a sip, grateful to have something to do.

The CEO finished off the round of speeches and, after announcing the bowl food would be out shortly and wishing them a happy Christmas, left the stage to a polite round of applause, which died off soon enough to be taken over by chatter and laughter. Josie dimly heard the violins start up again in the background.

There was a crowd of people surrounding Oliver now, shaking his hand and thumping him on the back. She shouldn’t watch, she knew she shouldn’t. It would only make her feel worse. But before she could make herself look away, his head swivelled around and his gaze locked on hers. She stood up abruptly, and Max, John and Laura all followed her lead so that the people on the neighbouring table gave them odd looks.

Oliver was coming over to them now, taking short, quick strides as he weaved his way around the white-clothed tables. Laura swore under her breath, then shot off to intercept him, jerking her head at John as she did so. Josie didn’t understand the gesture until John walked away from them too, splitting off from Laura and stopping right in front of Cara, who had clearly been on her way over as well, though God knew why. Even feeling as she was, Josie had time to marvel at the silent communication between the two of them – they’d only been together eighteen months, less time than she’d had with Oliver, but she and Oliver had never been able to do that, to know what each other were thinking like that.

It took Josie a moment to realise that Max had hold of her hand and that he was squeezing it gently, trying to pull her along, to get her moving. ‘Come on, Josie, let’s go.’ She gave in to the pressure, tripping slightly as she went with him. Everything around her felt strangely distant, like someone had pressed the mute button and turned down the dimmer switch.

‘We can’t just leave,’ she mumbled as he dragged her along behind him, back to the entrance hall.

‘Why not? You showed your face, didn’t you? Can’t say fairer than that. Besides, everyone will be too hungover tomorrow to remember exactly what time you left anyway.’ Josie just nodded, her brain apparently unable to focus on more than one thing at a time, still thinking of all those nights she and Oliver had talked about work, bitching about Janice and lamenting the fact that both of them were overdue a promotion. Nothing. He’d said nothing the entire time.

‘Stay here,’ Max commanded when they reached the hall. ‘I’ll get our coats.’ Again, Josie just nodded, staring down at the mosaic floor.

‘Josie.’ She winced at the sound of Oliver’s voice. She looked up to see him walking towards her, breathing a little heavily, like he’d genuinely run after her. She wondered vaguely how he’d got away from Laura. For a moment they stared at each other, then Oliver shook his head. ‘I’m so—’

‘I am so fucking tired,’ Josie hissed, ‘of hearing how sorry you are.’ He flinched at her uncharacteristically harsh tone and she took a breath through her nose. She needed to get control of herself – the last thing she wanted was for him to know how much this was getting to her. She crossed her arms. ‘I suppose congratulations are in order.’ Perhaps if she were a stronger person, she’d even mean that. He’d always wanted to work abroad, after all. Was always talking about Sydney, New York, Toronto. She supposed, if she’d really thought about it, she should have known he’d never be content to just stay in one place, not like her.

‘I wanted to talk to you before the speech,’ Oliver said, raising his hands in a sort of helpless gesture.

‘Yes, because telling me right before Janice announces it to the whole company is so much better.’ He said nothing and she forced herself to lower her arms, drop the defensive pose. ‘It doesn’t matter, Oliver,’ she said crisply. ‘We broke up. It’s none of my business what you do now.’ He grimaced and she felt just a tiny bit harsh. This was his big night, and she was ruining it.

‘I was going to ask you to come with me,’ he said softly, his gaze never leaving her face. ‘I just . . . I couldn’t figure out how to do it, how to convince you to leave your life here, which is why I never brought it up before . . .’ Yes, she thought bitterly. Before.

But despite herself, she had a flash then of being in New York, her and Oliver out at fancy restaurants or posing by the Statue of Liberty. She’d never been, so the images were a little fuzzy, things she’d seen on films or TV merged in with bits of London. She sighed. ‘Not really my thing, is it, packing up for some adventure in the Big Apple? We both know I’m more of a fan of the safe option.’ Which is exactly why he hadn’t told her, apparently. She was too damn predictable and he’d known, presumably, that she wouldn’t have been excited by it, would have tried to convince him to stay in London instead. She liked to think she would have considered it, but the truth sat uncomfortably in her stomach, weighing it down – she would have hated the idea, hated the risk of it.

Thankfully, Max came back with their coats at that moment. Oliver frowned at the sight of him. ‘You’re leaving?’

Max handed Josie her coat and she slipped it on. ‘That’s my fault,’ he said cheerily, a benign smile on his face. ‘I’m stealing her away.’ Oliver actually glared at him then, before struggling to control his facial muscles. Max pretended not to notice. ‘Congratulations, by the way. New York – you must be excited.’

‘Yeah, I guess,’ Oliver mumbled.

‘Surprised you didn’t bring it up the other day, when I mentioned New York.’ Max raised his eyebrows in question, and let it hang in the air for a moment. ‘But then, I suppose I didn’t really let you get a word in, hey?’ Max’s voice was perfectly friendly, the jibe so subtle that Oliver had no reason to get wound up. He flushed instead, and Josie felt impossibly grateful in that moment that she was not the most awkward one in their little trio, that the attention was very firmly off her and how she was taking the news.

‘Babe—’

Josie turned to glare at Oliver as he followed them. She shook her head. ‘Don’t.’

He stopped in his tracks, but she could feel him watching them as they walked away.

Max bundled her out of the entrance hall, away from the allure of the domed, stained glass ceiling and straight into a car that was waiting outside for them. Clearly he’d taken the time to order an Uber at some point, though she hadn’t seen him do it. She stared out the window as they drove, not saying anything, happy just to let Max get her home, if that’s what he wanted to do. She wondered what he thought of her now, if he thought she was pathetic – losing her hotshot boyfriend who was off to swan around in New York, while she had to decide whether to take the crumbs that Janice threw at her feet. She thought again of his reaction, after she’d told him her parents had died. If he’d thought she was damaged goods after that then this had certainly done nothing to alleviate that impression, now had it?

It took her a good ten minutes to realise they were not heading back to Streatham. She took her attention off the endless headlights and frowned over at Max, who was looking out the window. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Just to a bar I know,’ he said, with a glance at her. ‘I want to say a quick hello to the owner while I’m in London. Is that ok?’ He said it all casually, like it had absolutely nothing to do with her, and she couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips.

‘Sure,’ she said, just as casually, not letting on how grateful she was not to be shipped back home. She didn’t think she could face it, alone in that flat, waiting for Christmas morning to creep in on her. Not just yet, anyway.

She gave up trying to figure out where exactly they were going – she wasn’t used to driving around London, sticking to the train and tube mostly, so it looked different from this angle, the landmarks all wrong. There were plenty of other cars on the road, people on their way back to their families before Christmas Day. Max made small talk with the driver and Josie allowed the conversation to wash over her like background music, the rise and fall of their voices strangely soothing. It was at least forty minutes before the car pulled over, down a little street off the main broadway.

‘Thanks, mate,’ Max said, and hopped out, holding the door open for Josie so she could shuffle out to avoid a puddle the other side of the car. It was a moment before Josie realised that there was a small gathering of people down the end of the street, huddled together under a lamp, their breath clouding together with smoke from their cigarettes. Josie hunched her shoulders against the cold as she followed Max towards them, to the building behind them, with subtle lighting in the windows, and a crooked sign above the door. It was a bar, she realised now, but the entrance was barely noticeable, so much so that you could have easily walked past and missed it, if you weren’t paying enough attention. She followed Max to the door, feeling like she was being led through some kind of secret entrance, away from the bigger pubs and excitement on the broadway.

She ducked her head under a wooden beam that she was sure must have seen a few casualties in its day as they made their way inside, then had to blink a few times to figure out exactly what kind of place they’d come to. There were three adjoined rooms, with the bar seeming to be in the middle one, dim lighting meaning there were plenty of secret corners to hide away in, the whole place giving off the impression that it was lit by flickering candlelight alone, which just couldn’t be true. The rooms seemed lopsided somehow, like they were on different levels, though there were no steps between them. Each room was relatively small, yet the place didn’t feel crowded, even though there were plenty of people here, the murmuring voices offset by classical music.

‘How did you even know this place was here?’ Josie asked as Max led her towards the bar.

‘I know the owner,’ he said, doing a quick scan of the room.

‘How?’

He gave her a little guilty smile. ‘I, err, designed the remod of the place actually.’

Josie started, then looked around again. ‘Wow. That’s so cool. This is so cool.’

He grinned, his eyes flickering a little in the moody lighting. ‘It was one of my favourite projects, because there were so many rules about what we could do with the building and the owner had such a specific idea of how he wanted it to feel. It was a lot of fun.’

Josie made a mental note to tell her aunt that Max was very clearly not lying about being an architect, even if he’d given her a different company name, just as a short, slim man cut in front of them, beaming. ‘Max!’ He clapped Max on the back, standing on the balls of his feet to do so. ‘What on earth . . .? Well, this is just a marvellous surprise.’ He clapped his hands in front of him. ‘It’s been too long, my friend.’

Max smiled that smile that Josie was learning was the genuine one – unlike the charming one he’d used on Helen or put on deliberately for Oliver, this one softened the lines of his sculpted face. ‘Sorry, mate. You know how it is when life just gets in the way.’ He gestured towards Josie. ‘This is Josie. I brought her along to show off the place.’

‘As indeed you should!’ The man’s voice was musical, and seemed to have an exceptionally large range, the intonations bouncing up and down in pitch as he spoke. ‘Welcome, Josie, it’s a pleasure.’

‘George is the owner,’ Max explained. ‘And a friend,’ he added at George’s scolding look.

‘A drink!’ George announced, putting a finger in the air in a way that would have been comical if anyone else did it. ‘I shall return.’ He swept away with a flourish, and Max chuckled quietly beside her.

‘I like him,’ Josie said decidedly.

‘Most people do.’

He found them a space at the rather full bar, right against the wall, and insisted she take the stool while he stood beside her, leaning against the wooden bar top, which, instead of being the usual blunt rectangle, moved in and out in non-uniform waves that almost seemed to ripple in the candlelight effect. Josie ran a hand along the side of the wood, noticing the differences in the grain.

‘It was hand crafted,’ Max explained. ‘Like I said, very specific ideas.’

George returned, as promised, with a drink for each of them – a spiced Christmas cocktail, though he wouldn’t tell them what was in it. It was red, and tasted of cherry and ginger, and Josie was pretty sure there was brandy in there somewhere. Whatever it was, she’d finished it in the time it took George and Max to have a quick chat, and another one was placed in front of her without so much as a look from her. She pulled it towards her – it was Christmas, after all.

George went off to the other side of the bar to chat to someone else, and Max shifted his position, his arm brushing hers as he did so. She felt the flash of heat, and became acutely aware of how tiny she felt, perched on the stool next to him – which was saying something as she usually felt too tall and awkward wherever she went. There was more stubble on Max’s jaw than there had been a few days ago, and it made him look even sexier, especially in the candlelight, which, she thought decidedly, suited him, like it set his hair and eyes alight. She realised she was studying him and cleared her throat. ‘Not a fan?’ she asked, gesturing towards his cocktail, which he was only halfway through.

‘Sure.’ He took a sip as if to prove it. ‘But I know George, and this’ll be five times the strength of your average cocktail.’ Josie paused in the act of taking another sip, not entirely sure if he was joking or not. He laughed at her expression, which made her think it was a joke, but she put it down to have a little break, just to be safe.

He hadn’t asked, and Josie knew he wouldn’t, that he wasn’t expecting any explanation, but now that they were here, huddled up in their little corner with the sound of George’s laughter reaching them from the other end of the bar, Josie found she actually wanted to talk about it. She lifted the wooden straw in her cocktail and gave it a little stir. ‘He never told me,’ she said on a sigh.

He nodded, that poker face already in play. ‘Yeah, I got that impression.’

‘I think he tried to.’ Josie stopped playing with the straw, glanced up at him. ‘I’m not sure how I feel about it.’

His eyes were level on hers. ‘About the fact he didn’t tell you, or the fact he’s moving to America?’

Josie pulled a hand through her hair. ‘Either. Both. I just . . .’ She waved that same hand in the air, then dropped it into her lap.

‘I don’t think there’s a law that says you have to decide how you feel after news like that within the next hour.’ She snorted quietly, looking down at her hands in her lap. ‘And it’s ok, you know, if you both hate him and wish he wasn’t leaving at the same time.’

She picked up her straw again, deciding to risk another sip. ‘Been in a similar situation, have you?’ He shrugged and she immediately grimaced – he’d told her, hadn’t he, that his girlfriend had broken up with him in May? ‘Sorry,’ she said quickly.

But he only laughed, shaking his head at her grimace. ‘It’s ok. This year has been pretty . . . rough, I’ll admit. But then, if none of it had happened, maybe I wouldn’t be here with you now.’ He reached out, tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and let his fingertips trail lightly down her neck, leaving little shivers behind. He grinned. ‘And then I would have missed out on a fancy work party and free drinks.’

Josie let out a breath. ‘Couldn’t be having that,’ she said, trying to match his easy tone. ‘And hey,’ she added, gesturing with her cocktail, ‘maybe you’ll bump into Oliver while you’re visiting your parents – at least he’ll have one friend there, right?’

‘Totally. I’ll send him a Facebook message, we can go to a Knicks game or something – I mean, the guy is just dying to be my friend, I could tell.’

Josie snorted and picked up her drink again, realising that her tongue was tingling justa little bit, her head starting to feel pleasantly buzzed. A reason to keep drinking, she decided, all things considered.

‘I think you might have gone, you know.’ She paused in the act of drinking, the straw still between her lips, to look at him. His gaze was totally locked on hers in a way that made it impossible to look away. His mouth crooked up into a small smile and she felt heat rush to her face. The skin on the back of her neck tingled. ‘I think you might have more adventure in you than you give yourself credit for.’ Then he turned to nod at George as George held up a bottle of beer, and Josie unfroze, setting her drink down and letting her breath out on a whoosh. ‘I mean,’ Max said, his voice light again, ‘you came to the beach with me, what’s more adventurous than that?’

‘Well, I suppose adventure’s one word for risking frostbite and pneumonia by paddling in the ice-cold water.’

Max grinned. ‘I still have all ten toes, don’t I?’

She glanced down at his shoes and shrugged. ‘I’ve yet to see concrete proof of that.’

They stayed for another two drinks, George refusing to let them leave, though Josie switched to one of the mocktails for the second one, not wanting to get completely plastered and do something embarrassing in front of Max. She was laughing when they got into the taxi, the chill of the night air slightly taking her breath away. The party now seemed like a vague memory, like it had happened on a different night entirely, though Josie was sure that, if she focused on it, the whole thing would come racing back into humiliating focus. Better, then, not to think of it at all, and to concentrate instead on the way Max was holding her hand, tracing circles on her skin with his thumb, on the feel of his leg pressed next to hers as he sat in the middle seat, right next to her. She should feel tired, she supposed, given the lateness of the hour, but she felt overly alert, like her whole body was waiting. At some point, without her realising it, the haziness of the cocktails had left her, leaving her mind clear and, like her body, intensely focused on the heat of Max’s body next to hers.

When they reached her block of flats he got out of the taxi too, and, after saying something to the driver that she didn’t quite catch, followed her up the stairs. Neither of them said anything, and now that he was no longer touching her, the air between them felt strangely electric. It seemed to take her several minutes to find her keys in her bag, though surely it couldn’t have actually been that long, and she refused to look at him the whole time, not sure what she’d see on his face if she did, not wanting him to kiss her goodbye and then leave, as he’d done last night. When she did eventually find them, it took her two attempts to get the key in the lock because her fingers weren’t quite steady, so that Max gave up waiting and did it for her.

He went through the door ahead of her, still holding her keys, and then turned to look at her. His eyes were measured as he stepped towards her, his expression straight and even as she tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. He reached out, brushed her hair back away from her face. ‘You look beautiful, you know.’ His voice was low, husky. ‘I should have told you that at the beginning of the night.’

‘Better late than never.’ She was surprised at how level she sounded, given the way her heart was beating right now.

His lips did that twitching that she’d recently decided was a smile as he ran his hand down the length of her arm. And then he was kissing her and without even thinking about it she hooked her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer to him. Dimly, she heard the door closing behind her and realised they’d walked back into it, that she was pressed between him and it, his hands now on her bare arms as she stripped off her coat. There was the sound of her keys dropping to the floor and she didn’t care enough to look for them, to make sure that the door was locked properly, because that would mean she had to stop kissing him. It was him who pulled away, and she was relieved that she was not the only one breathing heavily.

‘The taxi is downstairs, waiting for me,’ he said, his voice hitching a little. She felt her stomach drop, her throat tightening immediately, though she managed to press her lips together and nod. He didn’t try to move away, though, just reached out to touch her hair again, his eyes on hers the whole time. So, knowing that she may well be setting herself up for a sting, knowing that she shouldn’t risk it because she was already vulnerable and a rejection the night before Christmas might well send her over the edge, Josie took a breath, cocked her head, and smiled.

‘Or you could stay.’

Max considered her for a moment, then gave her a slow grin. ‘Or I could stay.’ She laughed, just a tiny bit breathlessly, as he kissed her again.