Page 27 of Always, in December

‘Yeah, I guess,’ Oliver mumbled.

‘Surprised you didn’t bring it up the other day, when I mentioned New York.’ Max raised his eyebrows in question, and let it hang in the air for a moment. ‘But then, I suppose I didn’t really let you get a word in, hey?’ Max’s voice was perfectly friendly, the jibe so subtle that Oliver had no reason to get wound up. He flushed instead, and Josie felt impossibly grateful in that moment that she was not the most awkward one in their little trio, that the attention was very firmly off her and how she was taking the news.

‘Babe—’

Josie turned to glare at Oliver as he followed them. She shook her head. ‘Don’t.’

He stopped in his tracks, but she could feel him watching them as they walked away.

Max bundled her out of the entrance hall, away from the allure of the domed, stained glass ceiling and straight into a car that was waiting outside for them. Clearly he’d taken the time to order an Uber at some point, though she hadn’t seen him do it. She stared out the window as they drove, not saying anything, happy just to let Max get her home, if that’s what he wanted to do. She wondered what he thought of her now, if he thought she was pathetic – losing her hotshot boyfriend who was off to swan around in New York, while she had to decide whether to take the crumbs that Janice threw at her feet. She thought again of his reaction, after she’d told him her parents had died. If he’d thought she was damaged goods after that then this had certainly done nothing to alleviate that impression, now had it?

It took her a good ten minutes to realise they were not heading back to Streatham. She took her attention off the endless headlights and frowned over at Max, who was looking out the window. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Just to a bar I know,’ he said, with a glance at her. ‘I want to say a quick hello to the owner while I’m in London. Is that ok?’ He said it all casually, like it had absolutely nothing to do with her, and she couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips.

‘Sure,’ she said, just as casually, not letting on how grateful she was not to be shipped back home. She didn’t think she could face it, alone in that flat, waiting for Christmas morning to creep in on her. Not just yet, anyway.

She gave up trying to figure out where exactly they were going – she wasn’t used to driving around London, sticking to the train and tube mostly, so it looked different from this angle, the landmarks all wrong. There were plenty of other cars on the road, people on their way back to their families before Christmas Day. Max made small talk with the driver and Josie allowed the conversation to wash over her like background music, the rise and fall of their voices strangely soothing. It was at least forty minutes before the car pulled over, down a little street off the main broadway.

‘Thanks, mate,’ Max said, and hopped out, holding the door open for Josie so she could shuffle out to avoid a puddle the other side of the car. It was a moment before Josie realised that there was a small gathering of people down the end of the street, huddled together under a lamp, their breath clouding together with smoke from their cigarettes. Josie hunched her shoulders against the cold as she followed Max towards them, to the building behind them, with subtle lighting in the windows, and a crooked sign above the door. It was a bar, she realised now, but the entrance was barely noticeable, so much so that you could have easily walked past and missed it, if you weren’t paying enough attention. She followed Max to the door, feeling like she was being led through some kind of secret entrance, away from the bigger pubs and excitement on the broadway.

She ducked her head under a wooden beam that she was sure must have seen a few casualties in its day as they made their way inside, then had to blink a few times to figure out exactly what kind of place they’d come to. There were three adjoined rooms, with the bar seeming to be in the middle one, dim lighting meaning there were plenty of secret corners to hide away in, the whole place giving off the impression that it was lit by flickering candlelight alone, which just couldn’t be true. The rooms seemed lopsided somehow, like they were on different levels, though there were no steps between them. Each room was relatively small, yet the place didn’t feel crowded, even though there were plenty of people here, the murmuring voices offset by classical music.

‘How did you even know this place was here?’ Josie asked as Max led her towards the bar.

‘I know the owner,’ he said, doing a quick scan of the room.

‘How?’

He gave her a little guilty smile. ‘I, err, designed the remod of the place actually.’

Josie started, then looked around again. ‘Wow. That’s so cool. This is so cool.’

He grinned, his eyes flickering a little in the moody lighting. ‘It was one of my favourite projects, because there were so many rules about what we could do with the building and the owner had such a specific idea of how he wanted it to feel. It was a lot of fun.’

Josie made a mental note to tell her aunt that Max was very clearly not lying about being an architect, even if he’d given her a different company name, just as a short, slim man cut in front of them, beaming. ‘Max!’ He clapped Max on the back, standing on the balls of his feet to do so. ‘What on earth . . .? Well, this is just a marvellous surprise.’ He clapped his hands in front of him. ‘It’s been too long, my friend.’

Max smiled that smile that Josie was learning was the genuine one – unlike the charming one he’d used on Helen or put on deliberately for Oliver, this one softened the lines of his sculpted face. ‘Sorry, mate. You know how it is when life just gets in the way.’ He gestured towards Josie. ‘This is Josie. I brought her along to show off the place.’

‘As indeed you should!’ The man’s voice was musical, and seemed to have an exceptionally large range, the intonations bouncing up and down in pitch as he spoke. ‘Welcome, Josie, it’s a pleasure.’

‘George is the owner,’ Max explained. ‘And a friend,’ he added at George’s scolding look.

‘A drink!’ George announced, putting a finger in the air in a way that would have been comical if anyone else did it. ‘I shall return.’ He swept away with a flourish, and Max chuckled quietly beside her.

‘I like him,’ Josie said decidedly.

‘Most people do.’

He found them a space at the rather full bar, right against the wall, and insisted she take the stool while he stood beside her, leaning against the wooden bar top, which, instead of being the usual blunt rectangle, moved in and out in non-uniform waves that almost seemed to ripple in the candlelight effect. Josie ran a hand along the side of the wood, noticing the differences in the grain.

‘It was hand crafted,’ Max explained. ‘Like I said, very specific ideas.’

George returned, as promised, with a drink for each of them – a spiced Christmas cocktail, though he wouldn’t tell them what was in it. It was red, and tasted of cherry and ginger, and Josie was pretty sure there was brandy in there somewhere. Whatever it was, she’d finished it in the time it took George and Max to have a quick chat, and another one was placed in front of her without so much as a look from her. She pulled it towards her – it was Christmas, after all.

George went off to the other side of the bar to chat to someone else, and Max shifted his position, his arm brushing hers as he did so. She felt the flash of heat, and became acutely aware of how tiny she felt, perched on the stool next to him – which was saying something as she usually felt too tall and awkward wherever she went. There was more stubble on Max’s jaw than there had been a few days ago, and it made him look even sexier, especially in the candlelight, which, she thought decidedly, suited him, like it set his hair and eyes alight. She realised she was studying him and cleared her throat. ‘Not a fan?’ she asked, gesturing towards his cocktail, which he was only halfway through.

‘Sure.’ He took a sip as if to prove it. ‘But I know George, and this’ll be five times the strength of your average cocktail.’ Josie paused in the act of taking another sip, not entirely sure if he was joking or not. He laughed at her expression, which made her think it was a joke, but she put it down to have a little break, just to be safe.