She looked at Geoffrey, who was smirking at her, like he’d seen Charlotte produce this effect before. Josie shook her head. “I’m not totally sure what happened.”
“Well, I think you’ve just been offered the chance at an experience of a lifetime, little grasshopper.”
She looked down at the card, then up at him, still feeling like she was playing catch-up. “Is it inappropriate to hug you right now?”
He held up a hand, wrinkled his nose. “I don’t go in for that sort of thing.”
Josie laughed. “This is so cool, and thank you so much for mentioning me to her…”
“But?”
She sighed. “But I can’t take an unpaid internship.”
He raised those bushy eyebrows. “Whyever not?”
“Well…I’m not twenty-one anymore, for one.”
“Oh yes, I forgot that you’re ancient.”
“Well, I am, in comparison to everyone else here.” He deliberately looked around the room, which included a fair few people her grandparents’ age. She made an impatient noise. “You know what I mean. And I’ve used up my quota of life breaks on this course, sadly.”
His eyebrows resumed their natural, frown-like position. “Don’t see what the big deal is. All your food and accommodation would be covered, and it’s only for a year.”
She huffed. “Yes, but I have no money, Geoffrey.”
“I think there’s a pittance-like salary. Potentially. Besides, don’t you have any savings? A girl like you’s got to, surely.”
“What do you mean, a girl like me?”
“You know…” —he waved a hand in front of her face—“organized, with a good head on your shoulders.” Josie pursed her lips, not entirely sure if he meant that as a firm compliment. “Anyway,” Geoffrey continued, “you don’t have to decide now. Right now, you should just be enjoying the evening, given all the work you put in. Meanwhile, I have to do the rounds, I’m afraid.” He gave her an uncharacteristic squeeze on the shoulder as he left, and she went over to join Laura, Bia, and John.
Bia grinned at her. “Check you out! You’re, like, an actual photographer.”
John gave her shoulder a thump. “Yeah, congratulations. We should have asked you to do the wedding photos.” Laura smiled and nodded at that, in a way that made Josie want to laugh. There was absolutely no way that Laura would have let an untested photographer loose at her wedding.
The door to the vault opened, and Josie snapped her gaze toward it automatically. But it was just a woman that Josie didn’t recognize, holding the hand of a young boy. She turned back to Laura and Bia, to see them exchange a glance. “What?” Josie asked, defensively.
“Looking for someone, are we?” Bia asked, bringing her wine to her lips.
“No,” she said, but the heat blossoming at the nape of her neck was giving her away. “All right, fine, I thought Max might be here. And it’s not out of the realms of possibility, so don’t look at me like that. He introduced me to Geoffrey in the first place, didn’t he?”
“Hmm, I remember,” Bia said, in a tone that indicated disapproval, despite the fact that they were all in this room now because of that introduction.
Laura glanced at John, who immediately went sauntering over to the bar, then turned to Josie. “Did you invite him?”
She bit her lip. “Well, no.” She’d thought about it, not that she’d admit that to her two friends. Thought about it because she did, after all, owe him for this. And then decided that the safest bet was just not to go there. But despite that, and despite the fact that Josie had effectively told him she never wanted to see him again, she hadn’t been able to help thinking that Geoffrey might have invited him, and that maybe he might have said yes to it. And, if she was being really, truly honest with herself, a little part of her had hoped for it.
Laura and Bia exchanged another look, clearly bonded over their disapproval of Max.
She sighed. “I got flowers,” she admitted. A big, gorgeous bunch of blue, white, and purple flowers, delivered to her flat this morning.
“From him?” Bia demanded.
Josie shook her head, stopped halfway through the action. “Well, I don’t know. There was no note.” Laura’s eyebrows shot up, while Bia tapped her fingernails—painted dark blue, to go with her now almost charcoal hair—against her now empty wine glass.
“So you thought they were from him?” Laura asked.