Always, in December(75)
“Josie…”
“I’m OK,” she repeated. “Really. It’s something I’ve learned to carry around with me, but in some ways I’m glad of that, because it means I loved them, and I remember them, you know?” She glanced up, and he nodded, though the light in his eyes had dimmed slightly. She sighed. “And that part of me, it’s part of what makes me who I am, and I can’t hate that, because, most of the time, I don’t hate who I am.”
He reached out, tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She should move away. She really should. “I don’t hate who you are, either.” His voice was almost a whisper. “Any of the time.”
“To be fair, you probably don’t know me well enough to qualify like that,” she said lightly.
He moved to step even closer and she took a deliberate step back, shook her head. She may be tipsy, but she knew perfectly well what would happen if he got even closer, and knew categorically that it was a bad idea. She took another step backward, saw the way his expression changed, closed off to that poker face, as he slipped his hands into his trouser pockets.
“Goodnight, Max,” she said firmly, and turned to walk away from the allure of the moonlight, and back to the safety of the party.
Josie woke to the sound of banging at her door and groaned, rolling over to one side. The banging just increased. Bloody Bia. She hadn’t come home last night, presumably off with her Scottish hunk, and had now probably forgotten her room key.
Josie threw off the covers, grimacing when her head pounded with the movement. She was frowning when she opened the door, and that frown only intensified, accompanied by a semi-painful lurch of her stomach, when she saw who it was. “Max?” She raised her hand to her hair, which was matted from where she hadn’t bothered to brush it out last night. “What do you want?” It came out clipped and harsh enough that she blew out a breath. “I mean, it’s early—is something wrong?”
“No, sorry, I…” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and looked at her for a moment. Still saying nothing, he rocked back on his heels, his hair slightly damp, as if he’d just gotten out of the shower, looking decidedly fresher than she felt. She folded one arm across her chest, only now noticing that she’d done the buttons up wrong on her flannel pajamas last night, so her top was pulled all wonky. And she was sure she didn’t smell as nice as him, all citrusy and enticing. He opened his mouth, shut it again, then raised his eyebrows. “Early?” he asked, his voice too gruff to pull off the totally casual tone. “It’s nine a.m.”
Josie huffed out a breath. “Yes, that’s early. And that’s not the point.” She shook her head, tried and failed to find something to look at that wasn’t him. “What are you doing here at all?”
“I, well, I have a proposition,” he said, his tone measured and even.
“A proposition,” Josie repeated slowly.
“Yes.” He took a breath. “I want you to come out with me for the day.”
Josie stared at him, incredulous, then shook her head. “And why on earth would I do that?”
“Because…” He ran his fingers through his perpetually rumpled hair, then dropped his hand to his side, where it seemed to hang flatly. “Because you said that you loved Edinburgh, and I thought you might like to see more of it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I can see it myself, but thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to go back to bed and sleep for at least another two hours.” She stepped back, going to shut the door, but he moved to stop her.
He backed away just a step when she shot him a glare before she could help herself. She fought to even out her expression, even as the arm around her midriff tightened. “Josie, look,” he began. “I know you think I’m a dick.” She snorted derisively at that. “And I know the way I…that what I did to you wasn’t right. And I know that you’ve moved on or whatever…” He’d moved on, more like. Not that she’d say it out loud, because she very much did want him to think she was just dandy. “But I’d really like to make it up to you. Please. I’ve got somewhere I’d really like to take you.” His eyes searched her face as she stood there, considering.
She sighed, then shook her head. “I just don’t think it’s a great idea, Max. Sorry.” She’d actually managed to half close the door this time when he reached out, grabbed her hand. She looked down at it pointedly and he let go.
“Please,” he said again. “We’re here together anyway this weekend, what have you got to lose?”
“We’re not together,” she snapped, before she could help herself. A little grimace crossed his face before he nodded, smoothed it out. As for what she had to lose…There was nothing she could say to that, without sounding clichéd. But she’d given so much to him in December, more than she’d realized, and she wasn’t sure she could face opening that door again.
“Where’s Bia?” Max asked after a beat, peering into her room over her shoulder, as if expecting to see her lurking there. As if Bia would even be letting her have this conversation if she were in the room. “She could come too?”
“I haven’t even said I’m coming yet,” Josie said, a little tightly. But it made her think. What if Bia was caught up the whole day with her new conquest, and Josie was left to fend for herself, having to spend the day alone until dinner? And now, Max had guaranteed that she’d just be sitting here, thinking of depressing things, if that was the case.