Always, in December(35)
“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 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 realize 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.