Always, in December(21)
“Dinner at five p.m.?”
“Apparently, yeah. I’m so sorry. She said you’re welcome to come, though?” Max frowned, then smoothed out his expression so Josie couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Which maybe was just as well, because she wasn’t actually sure what she wanted him to be thinking in that moment. She would have been happy to spend the rest of the day with him, but the thought of him sitting next to Helen and having every inch of him examined over a three-course meal was enough to make her cringe.
“I’d love to,” Max said, perhaps a touch too evenly, “but it actually works out well—I’ve got some errands to run and I said I’d Skype my parents later.” Josie nodded, not sure why she was suddenly finding words hard to come by. “Where are you meeting her?”
“Covent Garden.”
“I’ll walk you—might as well walk rather than get the tube if you can bear it.”
She nodded, then looked down at her cluster of bags, sighed, and hauled them off the pavement. Lips twitching, Max took two of them off her, and Josie didn’t even try to protest.
“So,” Max said as they neared Covent Garden tube station, the sound of people clapping making its way up to them over the general chatter. Someone must be performing further down. “Tomorrow.”
Josie glanced up at him. His hair was sticking out at odd angles from the wind, which had died down as it grew darker, like the darkness had chased it away. “Tomorrow?”
He didn’t look at her, his attention on a busker playing “Feed the World” on the corner. “Plans?”
“Plans?” Josie took the lead, heading toward the Ivy Market Grill.
“For tomorrow. What are your plans?”
“Oh.” Josie felt the tell-tale heat creep up her neck and resisted the urge to rub at it, though, really, he could have found an easier way of asking her. She wrinkled her nose. She didn’t have anything concrete planned for tomorrow even though she’d booked the day off from work weeks ago, but it seemed a bit pathetic to say that, this close to Christmas. She’d already given two days to him at short notice—the weekend, no less—was it tantamount to admitting that she was a loner with no friends if she was available for a third day at the drop of a hat? Or did he even mean that? He hadn’t actually asked her out, maybe he was just making polite conversation. Or maybe you’re just overthinking it, Josie. She sighed. “I’ve got a few things I have to sort out,” she hedged.
“Things.” Max nodded.
“Stuff I need to get done before Christmas. I’ve got a work Christmas party on Christmas Eve I need to…get ready for.” True, given she hadn’t even thought about what she was going to wear to their charity event, to quote Janice. “And other…stuff,” she finished lamely, coming to a stop outside the restaurant.
“Stuff and things,” Max said slowly. “Sounds boring. Come out with me tomorrow instead.” Josie tried very hard not to smile, to keep her expression neutral to match his, even though a little thrill went down her spine. Not a date, she told herself firmly. He was just looking for friendly company, that was all. She wasn’t even sure she wanted it to be a date, not this soon after Oliver, not with someone who lived in Bristol. “Come on,” Max said evenly. “You’re not going to leave me hanging while I’m all alone in London, are you?”
Josie laughed and relented. “Fine. What do you want to do?” She shifted the bags to her other hand and shook out her arm, which was starting to feel numb.
“I’ll pick you up at nine.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’ll pick me up?”
“Well, in a manner of speaking. I don’t actually have a car, obviously. Here,” he added, fishing out his phone and opening up Notes, “give me your address.”
She did as he asked, only belatedly thinking that she should maybe be more cautious about giving her address out. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Josie sighed. “I’m not a huge fan of surprises.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a cliché. Everyone likes surprises, they just don’t like the possibility that it’s a bad surprise.”
She contemplated this for a moment, then shook her head. “Regardless, I like to know what’s going to happen next.”
He considered her for a moment, his expression unreadable. He was really bloody good at keeping what he was thinking off his face. He pffed and waved a hand dismissively. “Boring,” he declared again. But then his voice softened a little, a hint of sadness creeping through. “You can’t plan your whole life that way, it has a habit of not cooperating.” She thought unwillingly of her parents, deciding last-minute to go to that party, but pressed her lips against that thought. This was not the same thing.
“This is where you’re eating, I take it? Fancy.” And just like that, he was back to an easy, jokey tone. He walked her to the door, holding it open for her, and a wave of heat hit them, along with the smell of garlic, mussels, and, she was pretty sure, port. It was dimly lit in here, which worked for the festive theme, with green tinsel decor around the sides of booths, though she couldn’t quite imagine how it would feel in summer. She’d been in here only once before, and that had been in winter too, for a work lunch.