Always, in December(50)

    “I don’t know, Mum,” he said on a sigh. “But it’s not right to stay here with you just for the sake of it either. I’ve already been here longer than anyone expected.”

He heard the tapping of her perfectly manicured nails on the countertop. “It won’t be good for you. Just sitting around, doing nothing.”

He glanced up at her from where he was putting in the last plate, cocking one eyebrow. “Who says I’ll be doing nothing?”

“If you had a plan or a…” Max straightened to see her glancing down the corridor, in the direction of Erin’s bedroom. At least she never claimed to be subtle. “A someone, well then it would be different, but…You can’t just go home and do nothing. You can’t just let your life stop like that, Max.” Max felt his control slip slightly, enough that he glared at his mother. She winced and he shook his head in apology, pulling one hand through his hair.

Chloe provided a brief distraction, coming in with the remainder of the clutter from the table, but his mum was not giving in so easily. “What about your old firm?”

Max sighed. “I doubt they’d take me back now, even freelance.”

“Well, have you thought about where you’ll live?”

“I’ve got my flat.”

His mum pursed her lips. Her lips were still red, making him wonder just what kind of nuclear lipstick she’d applied. “Yes, the flat you rented out and, as far as I’m aware, have not tried to get back from the tenants.”

    Max gritted his teeth. “I’ll figure it out, OK? Stop worrying.”

“He can stay with me,” Chloe piped up, leaning back against the counter next to Max and giving his arm a friendly punch.

Their mother frowned at her. “You don’t need the distraction,” she said sharply. Then she softened her tone. “You need to focus, sweetie, your residency is one of the most important times in your career.”

Chloe just rolled her eyes at Max.

Clearly considering it a losing battle now Chloe was on his team, his mum sighed. “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you both tomorrow.” She hesitated before she left the kitchen and glanced back at Max. “I can’t stop worrying, you know.” Her tone was ever so slightly sad. “It’s a mother’s prerogative.” She smiled almost wistfully before she left them alone.

Max looked at Chloe, grimacing. “Am I a terrible son?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I reckon so.”

He stared at her a moment, then laughed, turning to put the kettle on to boil. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” She patted him on the arm. “So. What’s up with the sexy architect?”

Max got down two mugs, smiled at her over his shoulder. “Well, I’m just fine, thanks for asking.”

She huffed. “Why don’t you bring him along tomorrow?”

“No. I didn’t even invite you.” He put a mint teabag in one mug, regular in the other. Held up a third mug to Chloe, who shook her head.

“Don’t make it sound like that, you know full well I’m doing you a favor by making it a group thing and not a date.”

    He chose to ignore that. “You barely said two words to him all evening, I doubt he’ll even want to come.”

She shook her head and gave him a wicked look. “Oh, he’ll want to come, trust me.”

Max couldn’t help the little wince. “What’s up with that doctor from your course that you were seeing?”

She shrugged. “He’s boring.” She narrowed her eyes at him and he held up his hands.

“I said nothing.”

“You don’t have to say anything, it’s written all over your face.” Then she sighed. “There’s just no point in keeping at something unless it’s the real thing. You might think I’m harsh, but I’m not. I’m just waiting for the one, you know?”

Max nodded slowly, his attention on the kettle that was now bubbling. “Yeah. I know.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You do?”

He filled the mugs with the boiling water and kissed Chloe briefly on the cheek as he left the kitchen, mugs in hand. “Night, sis.”

His dad was setting up the sofa as a bed for Chloe when Max stepped out of the kitchen into the living room. He caught Max’s eye, then crossed the room to him. Tonight, it seemed, was a night of interrogations. His dad ran one hand through his hair. Like Chloe’s, it was dark, though it was a little longer than hers now, and the flecks of grey became more obvious every time Max saw him, in both his hair and the small beard that he’d let grow out a little in recent years. “I, err, could hear your mother flapping.”

Max took a sip of the normal tea in his right hand. “Yep. But that’s OK, we’re all used to it.”

    His dad nodded, then rocked back on his heels. Always took the time to figure out what he wanted to say, his dad. “I know it’s not ideal, living with your parents, but I want you to know that we both mean it. There’s always a place for you here, if you’re not ready to go home yet, or else if you want to come back if things don’t…work out, back there.”

Because he knew how it was meant, that his dad wasn’t trying to push him into anything, Max clapped a hand on his dad’s shoulder. They were almost exactly the same height. “Thanks.”