Always, in December(18)
“Nah, I’ll sweet-talk them.” Max linked an arm through hers again, and when she looked up questioningly said, “They might still be watching.”
Somehow Max did manage to talk them into the Ice Bar, though she had no idea what he said because he made her wait behind him. So after a few more drinks, which they drank huddled in Inuit-style overcoats, the two of them meandered back toward the exit, in much easier company than when they’d first set foot inside. It was dark now, and Josie had to admit the whole thing was rather festive, the lights of the stalls glowing, the smell of chestnuts, spices, and cotton candy washing over them, people laughing as they passed makeshift bars.
It might just be because she was feeling pleasantly buzzed, but she really could, in that moment, see why people got all excited about it. She smiled up at Max, who grinned down at her and took her hand, swinging it as they walked. He’d been like that since they’d bumped into Oliver, like he’d decided they had something in common, both having to get over someone in their past. She smiled to herself a little at the thought that Oliver had inadvertently made her not-quite-date so much more fun.
“So,” Max said, “are you heading out of London soon for Christmas?”
She tried and failed to keep a smile on her face. “Nope. Staying at my flat this year.” No matter what she might have told Memo, her stomach dropped a little as she imagined the day, at home next to Bia’s Christmas tree, eating Deliveroo for one, which was even worse than those people working at Deliveroo, because at least they got paid. She tried to think of something else, and deliberately made her voice bright as she said, “I’ve still got to go Christmas shopping before that though. Such a nightmare.”
He glanced down at her. “Not a fan?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Well, I usually have it all done in September, and order everything online but this year I…didn’t.” No need to say the reason—that Oliver had kept telling her they’d do all theirs together, had insisted that she had to be more creative, that she couldn’t order everything online because it was impersonal. And now she was stuck having to cram it all into one day before her aunt Helen came to visit her and collect the presents for herself and her grandparents, as she did every year. She sighed as they walked back under the archway, leaving the lights twinkling behind them.
Max let go of her hand, and even through her gloves her fingers registered the loss of warmth. He turned to face her, studying her. “Well, in a twist of fate, turns out that I’m an excellent Christmas shopper.”
She cocked her head. “Are you now?”
“Mmm-hmm,” he nodded sagely. “So how about I take you tomorrow? We’ll make a day of it, and I’ll help you.”
She frowned up at him. “What, really?”
“Sure, why not?”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just…isn’t there something else you’d rather be doing? Not that I don’t want you there,” she said quickly, concerned then that it sounded as if she was trying to ditch him. “Only…Well, I’m not exactly known for my enthusiasm when it comes to any kind of shopping, let alone Christmas shopping.”
He looked like he might smile, but seemed to deliberately pull his expression into something serious. “OK, consider me duly warned. But given the fact that the majority of my mates are either up in Scotland or in Bristol, and my family is in New York, it’s either invite myself along with you or hole up with a crate of beer in my hotel room, and no one likes a day drinker.”
Josie laughed. “Well, when you put it like that.”
“What about this?” Max asked, holding up a shower cap with little ladybirds on it.
Josie laughed. “I’m not sure my grandmother’s really the shower-cap type.”
“What are you talking about? Everyone is the shower-cap type.”
Josie raised her eyebrows. “Even you?”
“Especially me.” He put the cap on his head for effect and Josie burst out laughing, earning a disapproving look from a middle-aged woman perusing the washbags next to them. She could hardly blame her, though. She’d usually be that woman, glaring at anyone who dared to look like they were enjoying themselves in a crowded store this close to Christmas. Well, OK, she probably wouldn’t be glaring, but she’d certainly be thinking mean thoughts.
Josie looked down at the price tag. “Forty-five pounds?” she asked incredulously. “For a shower cap?”
“But look, it has pretty ladybirds on it, they’re worth at least a fiver each.” Max tapped one of said ladybirds as if to emphasize the point, then shrugged as he put it back. “All right, maybe not.”
“I thought you said you were good at this,” Josie said with a smirk.
“Hey, it’s not my fault that you have no taste.” He walked on, giving the middle-aged woman, who studiously ignored him, a polite nod as he passed. Josie followed, maneuvering herself carefully down the aisles so that her shopping bags didn’t accidentally knock anything off the shelves. Shamefully, given she’d lived in London for eight years, this was her first time in Fortnum & Mason. It had been Max’s idea to come here, at least to “look,” and she had to admit it was beautiful, with perfectly decorated Christmas trees on each floor, each themed around a certain color scheme, the closest one showing off blue and silver baubles with intricate designs on each one. No doubt Bia would call it boring, Josie thought wryly. There was a giant golden crescent moon hanging above them from the ceiling, with twinkling gold stars on varying lengths of thread cascading around them, and despite the number of sweaty bodies all pushed in here, it still smelled sweet, chocolate mixed with a flowery perfume.