Always, in December(81)
“That’s something, then.” He turned, clapped Max on the back. “Two women, hey? Can’t be that bad now, can it?” Max grinned, and Josie flushed, while Erin just prodded Max in the ribs, like she was in on the joke. “Don’t be a stranger, all right?”
Max returned the one-armed hug. “I’ll do my best, but no promises.”
“Can’t say fairer than that.” And with a small salute, Geoffrey shut the door, practically in their faces. Josie led the way back to the street, feeling like a third wheel again. She frowned as she walked. She’d let herself be maneuvered into this, even if she was pleased with the outcome. Was it a bad thing? Was this just another example of her being a massive pushover?
Josie heard Erin murmuring something to Max behind her, and felt the back of her neck prickle, even if she couldn’t hear what it was. Then Erin split away from Max, came to link her arm through Josie’s again. What the hell was that about? “So,” Erin said. “I think you deserve a drink after that, what do you reckon?”
Josie hesitated—a drink cosied up with Max and Erin was not exactly how she wanted to spend the afternoon. “Well, we need to be back at the castle soon…”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Erin said breezily, tightening her grip on Josie’s elbow. “We’ve got tons of time.”
Josie resisted the urge to glance back at Max for help—but really, shouldn’t he be on her side here? Surely he didn’t want the three of them holed up together? Or maybe, if Erin’s relaxed demeanor was anything to go by, he’d already told Erin about her, told her that Josie meant nothing, and that’s why Erin was so laid back about the whole thing. Well, Josie thought, frowning slightly, if that was the case then she could be fine with it too, couldn’t she?
“OK,” she said out loud. “But let’s go for coffee—not alcohol. I don’t want to turn up to Laura’s farewell dinner already tipsy.” That, and she didn’t think it was a good idea to have her inhibitions lowered right now.
“Deal,” Erin said with a nod, and proceeded to steer Josie through the city, down the famous Princes Street that was bustling with people, up a little slope and through some gardens, chatting away as she did so, apparently with a very clear idea of where she was headed. Five minutes into their walk, Erin seemed to realize that Max was still lagging behind and turned to demand that he catch up. She looked at Josie with those bright blue eyes—eyes that were hard not to feel jealous of. “Honestly, you’d think we were forcing him to board the Titanic or something.”
Josie managed a weak smile, whilst a part of her wondered vaguely what would happen if Erin and Bia went head-to-head. Once Max came alongside them, Erin linked arms with him too and steered both of them onto a new street—Broughton Street, Josie read, partly because she was deliberately trying to pay attention to anything other than Max, now that they were close enough to touch, if it weren’t for his tall, slim, beautiful—and, so far, lovely—girlfriend between them.
Erin carried on talking—either unaware of or determined to ignore the awkwardness—providing little titbits of history as they went. Personal history, rather than stuff to make the travel books—like where she and her friends had spent Cèilidh-Salsa dancing outside on New Year’s Eve, or where Erin’s friend had gotten so drunk she’d actually been sick behind the bin. It made Josie smile in spite of herself, picturing the city as something more than a beautiful tourist spot, but somewhere people actually lived, did stupid things, got into trouble.
Then, “Voilà!” Erin announced, stopping abruptly outside a little café. “We spent many hours in this place at university studying for our finals, Josie.” She smiled, a trace of something sad—nostalgia, perhaps—crossing her face. “Do you remember, Max?”
Josie looked over at him to see him nodding, that half smile playing across his lips. “I do indeed.” Oh great. A coffee shop that held nice, romantic memories for the two of them—wasn’t that just perfect?
It was a small-looking café from the outside, tucked away, with a black staircase leading down on one side and a wooden sign over the red door that offset the grey exterior. Artisan Roast.
Erin released Josie’s arm, and Josie took a subtle step away, pretending to examine the outside of the little building while Erin checked her phone. She heard Erin mutter, “Damn,” and turned around. Erin looked up, glancing between Max and Josie. “I completely forgot, I said I’d grab a drink with a friend of mine today—she’s having boyfriend drama.” Erin’s cheeks flushed, ever so slightly, after she said it. So, Josie thought, maybe not quite as oblivious as she pretended to be.
“Which friend?” Max asked. Was it just her, or was there a hint of suspicion in his voice? But that was ridiculous—Erin was the one who suggested this, why would she be trying to get out of it now?
“Amy,” Erin said immediately. “Remember Amy?”
Max stared at her for a moment, then said, “Fine. Invite her along. She can come for coffee.”
“Yes!” Josie agreed, perhaps a little too enthusiastically from the way both Max and Erin looked at her. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if your friend came, Erin.” That way, it wouldn’t be just the three of them.