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‘The house speciality,’ Max said, his voice carrying more of that teasing tone she’d got used to. They both went quiet again, taking sips of their coffee. Josie made a show of looking around the café, noting that it was getting fuller by the minute, in an attempt to distract from the cringeworthy awkwardness. God, it hadn’t been like this last night, out in the castle grounds. But then, she hadn’t had those helpful glasses of wine today, and unlike a moment stolen in the shadows, here in the daylight, in a room full of people, it was all too easy to remember that he had left her – that he had left her, and that he was now with someone else, so nothing could happen between them again.

‘So, what do you think?’ Max asked. ‘Will you drop Geoff a line?’

Josie winced as she took a too large swallow of her drink, the top of her mouth burning slightly. She looked away as she coughed. Nice, Josie. ‘Yes,’ she said. And saying it out loud made her realise the truth of it. She nodded, tilting her chin up a little. ‘Yes,’ she said again, more decisively. ‘I will. Who knows what’ll happen, but it’s worth a try, right?’

He nodded. ‘Couldn’t agree more.’

She hesitated, then said, quietly, ‘Thank you.’ She looked him right in the eye, those gorgeous, two-toned eyes. ‘Really. Even if nothing comes of it . . . Thank you. For thinking of me.’

His gaze lingered on her face in a way that made her nerves tingle. ‘I do, you know,’ he murmured.

Her breath hitched. ‘What?’

‘Think of you.’

What a thing to say. She wanted to be mad, to hate him for it. But their gazes met and held for a beat too long. And in that moment, Josie was back in the bar at Christmas, sipping cocktails in the corner, feeling his skin pressed against hers, hearing his voice as he whispered to her over the din of the music. The memory of it – of what happened later that night – flooded through her in a hot wave. She blinked, and was back in the coffee shop, a toddler crying in the corner, the coffee machine whirring. Taking a slow breath, she looked down at her coffee, wishing then that she’d asked for an iced tea instead.

‘So,’ she said, still not looking at him. ‘You and Erin.’ A way to remind herself, as well as him. There was no point in ignoring it, anyway, and better to get it out in the open.

Max rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. ‘Yeah, look, Josie, about that—’

‘I’m not asking for an explanation,’ Josie said quickly. She didn’t want him to think she needed one, not after so long. ‘I just meant . . . She seems nice.’

‘She is,’ Max said, and for some reason, even though she’d said it first, Josie’s stomach dropped a little. ‘But it’s just . . . Erin, she’s . . .’

But what exactly Erin was Josie didn’t get the chance to find out, because at that moment two ladies, one wearing a tartan skirt, the other a tartan cap pushed to one side like a fashion statement, came up to their table.

‘Do you mind if we share your table?’ the woman in the skirt asked. American, Josie noted. ‘It’s just, there’s nowhere else to sit right now.’

‘Oh,’ Josie said. ‘Well . . .’

‘It’s top rated on Trip Advisor,’ the woman in the cap piped up, looking at Josie with such an endearing smile out of a slightly plump face, that Josie felt guilty for hesitating.

Josie glanced at Max. ‘I guess?’ She made it into a question.

‘Great!’ the skirt said, taking that as a firm invitation. ‘We won’t bother you guys, I promise, you enjoy your date.’

Josie grimaced. Then, when she saw Max making the same expression, laughed a little. His expression softened too as he met her gaze. The two women grabbed stools from a neighbouring table, and squished themselves round in a way that clearly indicated the table was not made for more than two.

‘Do you mind just scooting up a little?’ the woman in the skirt asked and Josie, politeness too ingrained, obliged, as did Max next to her. And with that, the space between them disappeared. Crowded round the little table, her elbows tucked in as she cupped her drink, Josie felt Max’s leg touch hers – and, with nowhere to go, it stayed there.

Her skin prickled with electricity and she felt her heart pick up speed. Next to her, she was aware of Max looking down at his drink, refusing to look at her, even as the heat between their bodies pulsed. God, she could smell him this close, that mix of classy aftershave and something that was just all him.

Dimly, Josie was aware of the women at the table talking, something about the Royal Mile and whisky, but the exact words washed over her, like they were outside a bubble, and she and Max were alone inside it. The coffee machine, the toddler crying, the sound of people laughing – all of it sounded distant, separate, every inch of her body focused purely on the feeling of Max against her.

And then Max’s phone buzzed. He jumped, and Josie sucked in her breath as he reached into his pocket.

‘It’s Erin,’ he muttered, his voice slightly husky. ‘She’s outside.’

Josie nodded, and without another word, stood up. ‘I’ll just go to the bathroom, and I’ll meet you out there.’ Not giving him the chance to respond, she turned away and rushed towards the ladies’ room. In there, she stared at herself in the mirror, taking slow breaths. Get a grip, she told herself. And get over it. Another deep breath, and she felt, if not ready, then as ready as she was ever going to be to face them both again.

The air was cooler outside the coffee shop than she remembered, the breeze fizzing off her hot skin. Erin and Max were right there, by the black metal stair barrier, but neither looked over as she closed the door behind her.

‘Well?’ Erin was saying. ‘Did you tell her?’

Josie halted, her heart lurching.

‘Give me a break, Erin, it’s not that easy.’