Always, in December(55)
Chloe held both her hands out, palms up, as if to conjure up an explanation. “What the hell?”
“Sorry. I just…I thought I saw someone.” They both continued to look at him, and Chloe’s frown deepened. He really hoped she didn’t press—she knew about his whirlwind romance at Christmas, but Erin did not, and given her little speech just now, he doubted she’d take kindly to it. He cleared his throat. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. Just thought I saw a friend, that’s all. Anyway, come on, let’s go and find this castle, that sounds cool.”
He let out a silent breath when they both let the matter drop and turned to pack up the picnic basket. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to explain it anyway, not in a way that they’d understand. He wasn’t even totally sure he knew what he’d been thinking himself. He only knew that, in that first instant, his heart had jolted at the thought that he might get to see her again and, for just a second, everything else had ceased to matter.
It was still just light as they pulled up outside the venue in Brooklyn, the sky turning a pale, purply blue, the lights down the street just starting to wink into existence. As he was nearest the car door on the pavement side, Max got out of the cab first, smoothing down the plain black jacket he was wearing over a navy blue shirt—having decided that, for something like this, you couldn’t go wrong with simple and understated—then paid the driver through the window while the other three got out.
Chloe put her hands on her hips and stared at the building in front of them. “It doesn’t look like much, does it?”
Max huffed out a little laugh. “What were you expecting?” It looked fine to him—it wasn’t exactly a feat of architectural genius but it was solid, and the owners had clearly worked with what they’d got, preserving the archway to the ground floor and using traditional lettering with the name of the place. It was a tall brick building, and Max knew that it was the first two floors that they’d be exploring tonight—a gallery-slash-bar that the owner, who also happened to be Max and Liam’s client on an entirely different project, was hoping would be the next big “trendy” thing, where people could buy the “cooler,” more abstract type of art and have a drink at the same time, appreciating the ambience. It sounded a bit pretentious to Max, but he and Liam had been invited to the opening of the place and instructed, firmly, by one of the senior partners that they must go along, because this guy could throw more work the company’s way in the future.
“I don’t know. Something…cooler.” Chloe looked around to where Liam was approaching on her right. Liam was wearing black trousers like Max, but that’s where the similarity on outfits ended. Liam’s grey jacket looked as though it had been made for him, and he’d added his usual splash of color—never more than one thing at a time—in the form of a green polo shirt. Chloe hooked her arm through his. “Come on then,” she said to him. And with that, she steered him straight through the entrance. Liam shot a slightly guilty look back at Max, who just shrugged as if to say, You’re on your own now, mate. Out of the presence of their parents, and given they’d been sandwiched next to each other in the cab, Chloe and Liam seemed to have gotten over the ignoring-you stage of the relationship. Max hadn’t quite decided yet which was better, but as Liam had been there in the office on Saturday, despite Max’s assumption of the opposite, and had invited Chloe to the “shindig” himself, there had been nothing Max could do about it. It wasn’t that he minded his sister having her fun, he’d just rather she didn’t destroy his own friendships in the process—and he genuinely liked Liam, not to mention the fact that he was turning out to be a useful contact. Even if he didn’t think he’d need Liam’s help again, it was nice to have the option. Still, Chloe was only in New York for a week, which hopefully wasn’t long enough for her to do any damage, and to be fair, Liam did seem to have his head screwed on about all this shit.
He and Erin followed the two of them into the building. Chloe turned and shrugged off her leather jacket to reveal a black dress with green dots over it, tight enough that it showed just how in shape she kept her body—and tight enough to make him want to wince, given the appreciative look Liam was now giving her. Max decided to ignore the way Liam’s gaze dropped to her legs, which she was showing off in a pair of heeled boots. She handed the jacket to him and gave him a slightly smug smile. “You sort the coats, Liam and I will get the drinks.” Erin raised her eyebrows at Max, but as Chloe was already walking away, Max reckoned it was easier just to go along with it. He saw Liam looking down at Chloe, all starry-eyed as they pushed into the “gallery” part of the building, apparently finding her bossiness and entitlement incredibly endearing, and wanted to roll his eyes. At least he and Erin had always—for the most part—had their heads level around each other, even if they did find each other attractive.
They handed in the coats and followed Liam and Chloe into the gallery, which was dimly lit, with individual little lights to highlight each of the paintings, making them look, Max was sure, much better than they would do at home. Erin slipped her hand into his. It was warm and comforting, and he smiled down at her without even thinking about it. She smiled back in a way that made him a little glad when a waiter came up with a tray of some kind of red cocktail, because he had to ask which was the non-alcoholic version and it gave him an out from the moment. Yes, he definitely felt affection for Erin, but it was hard to figure out how much of that was friendship, and the lingering feelings of a long relationship, and how much of it was genuine for the here and now. And sure, she said she wanted to get back together, but she hadn’t been so certain of that a year ago, so who knew how long that resolution would last?