Always, in December(62)
Josie sighed, and he watched her chest rise and fall with the moment. “So maybe,” she continued, “maybe that’s the reason fate or whatever made me run into you that day—because I might not have given this a go otherwise.”
Max shook his head, feeling suddenly weary. “You really believe everything happens for a reason and all that bullshit?”
She raised her eyebrows at his tone, then shrugged. “Not really, no.” Her face darkened a little at that, and some of her seemed to retreat inward. He wondered if she was thinking of her parents and immediately wished he hadn’t said anything. “But it doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate it when things work out. So maybe I should be thanking you. But for now, I have to go, sorry.” She stepped away a little hurriedly on those spindly heels, and he reached out to grab her hand. She looked back at him, and didn’t pull away. But he didn’t know what the fuck he wanted to say, what his parting words should be.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll see you around?”
She pulled her hand from his, slowly, and he didn’t take his eyes off her face as shadows in her eyes seemed to flicker. She blew out a breath, shook her head. “Somehow I doubt that—don’t you?”
And then, without giving him a chance to think of a response, she was walking away, back to her boyfriend, leaving him standing there alone.
He took a slow sip of his drink, saw that Erin was watching him. She was frowning, and he couldn’t blame her. Couldn’t blame Josie, either—she had every right to move the hell on. She was right, it had been just a fling—because he’d made sure of that, hadn’t he? He’d refused to allow himself to believe it could ever have been anything more, had convinced himself that they’d both be better off that way.
His drink tasted bitter on his tongue when he lifted it to his lips. Another cruel twist of fate, he supposed, that now he realized he wanted something more, it was too late.
Part Three
September
“Look, I’m here!” Josie turned her phone around so Memo could get a view of Dundas Castle out of the taxi window as it crunched its way up the gravel driveway. An actual freaking castle, no question about it. The building loomed over them as they got closer to it, two circular turrets either side of what she presumed was the main area, then a further square turret farther down. It was grey stone and looked like a drawing out of a medieval history textbook. To the right of it stood a few bushy trees, their leaves already welcoming autumn with a golden hue, which somehow made the whole thing look even more majestic. To top it all off, the sky was a bright, clear blue, and even with her stomach not quite settled at the thought of the weekend—with all the happy couples that weddings inevitably conjured up—she couldn’t help loosening a breath at the sight of it all.
“Oh, isn’t that just stunning?” Memo said, and Josie turned the phone back the other way, smiling at Memo’s almost tearful expression. “I just love Scotland. It’s going to be such a beautiful wedding.”
“It is,” Josie agreed, trying to ignore the part of her that was dreading the whole thing.
“You will take photos, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Josie said easily. Her camera was already sitting next to her on the middle seat, primed and ready.
“And you’ll say hello to that lovely Laura for me?” Memo glanced up at something out of sight above the laptop screen on her end and nodded. Grandad, presumably.
“I will,” Josie promised. Memo had only met Laura once, but she had this uncanny ability to remember every single person in Josie’s life, in extreme detail.
“And you’ll be OK, there alone?” Memo seemed to peer in more closely, taking in, no doubt, the slight bags under Josie’s eyes, the pale skin that she’d have to cover up later. She hadn’t been sleeping all too well since she’d gotten back from New York, a constant whir in her mind asking her what the hell she was supposed to do with her life now.
Josie hesitated for the briefest of seconds before saying, “I won’t be alone, I’ll have Bia. And Laura.”
Memo looked up behind the screen, and smiled at something. Josie raised her eyebrows. “Grandad said something about Bia, didn’t he?”
“He says to say hello to her,” Memo said with another smile.
Her grandad muttered something inaudible as he came to sit on the red sofa next to Memo, one bushy eyebrow making itself known. Josie frowned, though Memo huffed out a laugh.
“What was that?” Josie asked.
“He said he expects you could do with the break from Helen right now, in any case.”
“I’m right here, Cecelia,” her grandad grumbled. “I can speak for myself.”
“Well, speak then!” Josie saw a slim hand reaching out to adjust the screen, and then her grandad’s face came into full view. He leaned forward, holding a cup of something hot—black tea, no doubt—between his hands.
“Is she driving you mad, Josie? It’s OK, you can tell us.”
“No, she’s fine!” Josie lied. And really, yes, Helen was driving her slightly insane, but she knew she couldn’t complain—she was letting Josie live there, rent free, while she tried to get herself back on her feet.