Always, in December(46)
“Hello, Chloe,” he said evenly, swigging the last of his coffee. “Nice of you to drop by.”
She jabbed a finger toward his chest. “It is bloody nice of me, I’ll have you know. I came by ages ago, and when you wouldn’t answer your phone I had to hang around waiting, didn’t I?” Max frowned and slipped out his phone. He saw that she’d rung him—barely twenty minutes ago. “Luckily,” Chloe continued, gesturing toward the reception desk and the college kid who was currently seated there, “Steve here was nice enough to let me wait for you down here, though he had no idea who you were—you must not have made much of an impression.”
Next to him, Liam bit his lip, and Max got the distinct impression he was trying not to smile. “Better than your alternative,” Max said, keeping his tone deliberately light to combat her rage, well used to the mini-tantrums that inevitably cooled down as quickly as they flared up. “The only reason people remember you is because you make the wrong impression—hardly something to celebrate.” She waved a hand in the air as if to say “whatever” and Max sighed. He grabbed her elbow to maneuver her to the side and away from the doorway. “What are you doing here, Chloe?”
She huffed. “I’m here because Mum has been trying to get hold of you for, and I quote, ‘the whole damn morning’ and you refuse to answer her, so she bribed me with a free spin class at one of those fancy Tribeca studios near here. And so here I am. Doing the loving, daughterly thing and coming to check that a) you are still alive and nothing terrible has befallen you—that’s a direct quote again, she actually said ‘befallen’—being as how she couldn’t get you on your mobile and the office told her you weren’t there when she called them and—”
“Jesus, she actually called the office?”
Chloe ignored him, carrying on in that way of hers, one word tumbling into another without the need to take a breath, “And b) to see what time Erin is landing because she’s flapping that the house might not be ready in time, and is worrying that you might forget to pick her up from the airport.”
Liam made a sound halfway through a cough and a laugh, and Chloe’s attention shot to him. He actually flushed under her gaze, for Christ’s sake, then cleared his throat hurriedly when he saw the look in Max’s eyes. One that, he hoped, quite clearly told him he was being pathetic. Chloe, however, gave Liam a little smile, making no secret of the fact that she was weighing him up.
Max took a breath, trying to dredge up some patience and remember that he dearly loved both his mother and sister, and could not blame them for treating him with kid gloves, even though he’d hoped they would have stopped by now. Because, though she’d never admit it, he knew very well that it would not have taken much for their mother to persuade Chloe to come and “check up” on him, though she’d do her best to hide that under sharp words, as she always had. Which, to be fair, suited them both. Neither of them were exactly great with all that touchy-feely crap.
“Well,” Max said, “you can tell our mother that I am indeed fine, nothing evil has befallen me, that Erin doesn’t get in until this evening and won’t care in the slightest what the place looks like, and that I will go and get her myself. And—”
“Oh, here we go,” Chloe muttered.
“That even if I wasn’t going to get her myself, Erin is a fully grown, intelligent woman, who is more than capable of finding her own way from the airport.”
“And boy, is she lucky to have you.” Liam took an ever-so-subtle step back away from them, though that only made both of them glance toward him in unison, before looking back at each other.
“Is that all?” Max asked sweetly.
“Will Erin be needing her own bedroom?” she asked sweetly.
Max scowled. “Go away, Chloe.”
“What!” Chloe exclaimed, shifting her gym bag farther up her shoulder. “That’s a genuine question! And if she isn’t sharing a room with you, then that means I have to stay on the sofa, which is just so—”
Max ran a hand through his hair. “God, you’re annoying. Why did you decide to come out here for Easter again?”
“For the better weather obvs.” She actually said it—“obvs”—like she was some kind of teenager.
Both Max and Chloe snapped their attention to Liam when he let out a low laugh. He immediately straightened his face, looking slightly alarmed by the combined force of their gazes, and Max sighed. “Sorry about this, mate.” He glanced at his watch, gestured to Liam to say that they should just carry on around Chloe to get to their floor.
But Chloe shifted position, making that impossible. “Yeah, sorry. About Max, that is. He’s clearly too self-involved to introduce me, but I’m Chloe—his sister.”
Liam nodded, and when he spoke, his voice was ever so slightly huskier than usual. “Yeah. We’ve actually met, last year. Your parents’ wedding anniversary.”
Chloe gave him an appraising look, then pursed her lips. “That’s right. Sorry, I remember you now. You’re my mum’s old schoolfriend’s son, or something like that, aren’t you?”
Liam nodded again, giving Max a sort of helpless look. Max wasn’t sure if he was asking to be rescued, or asking permission to dive in head-first. Generally, Liam needed no help when it came to women, despite his comments about it being too easy for Max. He also had no idea if Chloe had genuinely forgotten meeting Liam—he could just imagine her playing some sort of game right now, all too aware of the way Liam was looking at her. The problem was, Chloe was good at that bit—too good—but she protected her heart fiercely, so that it made it almost impossible for men to actually get close to her, though she’d no doubt start hissing at him if he ever dared to voice that opinion.