Always, in December(57)
“Exactly right,” Tim said, nodding like Bradley had said something profound.
Bradley carried on as if Tim hadn’t spoken. “And Ollie here is actually doing the PR for this venue. Ollie!”
The man was already walking over to them, but doubled his pace at Bradley’s shout, an action that was more noticeable because he was slightly shorter than average.
Ollie came into the circle, shook hands all around. His brown eyes lingered on Max for a moment. Max knew this guy, he was sure of it. It was the pixieish quality that he remembered, all sharp chin and slightly pointy ears. Josie’s ex. An uncomfortable sensation brewed in his stomach, and he took a sip of his drink to try to quench it. Every now and then, Oliver’s gaze flickered toward Max, in a way that suggested he recognized him too. Max realized he must be staring too hard when he noticed Erin looking up at him curiously, and tried to straighten out his features.
“Are you here alone then, Ollie? No colleagues along with you?” Bradley asked, clicking a hand in the air to someone at the same time. Again, Chloe wrinkled her nose, but said nothing.
“The others wanted to get in an early night, what with it being a Monday and all, so it’s just me, I’m afraid.” Oliver raised his hands in a way that was clearly supposed to indicate apology, then took one of those hands up to smooth his already overly styled hair.
“No, no need to apologize,” said Bradley, taking a second glass of champagne from a tray that the waiter brought along and handing it to Oliver, who was apparently the only one in the circle who would be offered one. Liam shot Max a questioning look. So, his scowl had returned then. He gave a big shoulder roll, told himself to stop being ridiculous. He barely even remembered the guy, and hadn’t given him a second thought since he’d met him. But he did remember thinking he was a dick at the time, and that thought seemed to have intensified now. Not helped by the fact that Bradley was just fawning over him—a couple of unintelligent, puffed-up peacocks.
“I did manage to drag my girlfriend along with me though,” Oliver continued.
“Is that so? Well, I’d be delighted to meet her…” Max let Bradley’s words wash over him for a moment. Girlfriend. The word thumped its way around his mind. It wouldn’t be.
But then Oliver turned and beckoned to a woman, and Max’s gaze shot over to her. And it was her.
Josie.
Josie, looking fucking stunning in skin-tight black jeans and heels to make her long legs look even longer, and a high-necked green, white, and black top. She stood out more because she wasn’t wearing a dress, and was now walking over to them as if she owned the room, smiling brightly at Oliver. She’d grown out her bangs, which suited her, and her hair was pulled up in some kind of elegant knot, studs glinting in her ears.
He saw the moment she clocked him. Her gaze darted from Oliver and around their little group, traveling over Chloe, Liam, and Erin until it landed on him last. He saw her stride falter slightly, before she whipped her gaze away from him so fast he didn’t have time to properly register the expression there. Those gorgeous eyes, ones that put the color “brown” to shame, stayed focused on Oliver as she came up to join them. Max found he was gripping his glass too tightly and flexed his fingers deliberately, trying to relieve some of the tension that had sprung through his entire body.
“This is Josie,” Oliver said proudly, gesturing toward Bradley. Josie’s eyes were fixed on Bradley alone as she held out a hand, smiling, Max thought, a little tightly, her jaw locked into place.
“So nice to meet you.”
Bradley smiled. “Is that another English accent I hear?” He didn’t give her the chance to answer. “Charmed. She’s a keeper,” he said to Oliver, even though he didn’t know the first fucking thing about her. She hooked an arm through Oliver’s and he wrapped his around her waist. Max couldn’t look away, though she was refusing to look back at him, like she was deliberately trying not to. He wanted to clear his throat, to make her look at him, but what the fuck was he supposed to say when she did? She shouldn’t even be here, in this city, and especially not with this prick. He’d cheated on her, for Christ’s sake.
“Well,” Bradley said, clapping his hands together. “It seems I’m surrounded by Brits! Max here is from England too, Ollie, he’s been working on my little apartment project, so I’m sure you’ll find lots in common.” Max tried and failed to pull his gaze away from Josie, aware that she must be able to feel it on her, that that was probably why she wouldn’t return it. She had barely any makeup on, but she seemed to glow more in the dim lighting than either Erin or his sister. He took a deliberate sip of his drink. Lots in common, indeed.
Chloe cocked one eyebrow up, in a way that he’d taught her to do when they were twelve, and folded her arms. Max spared her a quick glance, checking for any warning signals that she was about to pipe up. She’d clearly taken offense at the fact that no one had properly introduced her yet. Liam seemed to realize this at the same moment and said quickly, “Can I also introduce you to Chloe, Mr. Vane?” Oliver and Bradley both turned to look at Chloe as Liam indicated her, but Max saw Josie’s gaze pass over Chloe to Erin before she quickly looked back at Oliver. Look at me, he pleaded silently with her. “She’s Max’s sister,” Liam continued, “and English too.” Bradley spared her a perfunctory smile, and Chloe nodded politely, with a fleeting glance at Max as if to acknowledge that yes, he was indeed the dick Max had claimed.