“Stuff and things,” Max said slowly. “Sounds boring. Come out with me tomorrow instead.” Josie tried very hard not to smile, to keep her expression neutral to match his, even though a little thrill went down her spine. Not a date, she told herself firmly. He was just looking for friendly company, that was all. She wasn’t even sure she wanted it to be a date, not this soon after Oliver, not with someone who lived in Bristol. “Come on,” Max said evenly. “You’re not going to leave me hanging while I’m all alone in London, are you?”
Josie laughed and relented. “Fine. What do you want to do?” She shifted the bags to her other hand and shook out her arm, which was starting to feel numb.
“I’ll pick you up at nine.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’ll pick me up?”
“Well, in a manner of speaking. I don’t actually have a car, obviously. Here,” he added, fishing out his phone and opening up Notes, “give me your address.”
She did as he asked, only belatedly thinking that she should maybe be more cautious about giving her address out. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Josie sighed. “I’m not a huge fan of surprises.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a cliché. Everyone likes surprises, they just don’t like the possibility that it’s a bad surprise.”
She contemplated this for a moment, then shook her head. “Regardless, I like to know what’s going to happen next.”
He considered her for a moment, his expression unreadable. He was really bloody good at keeping what he was thinking off his face. He pffed and waved a hand dismissively. “Boring,” he declared again. But then his voice softened a little, a hint of sadness creeping through. “You can’t plan your whole life that way, it has a habit of not cooperating.” She thought unwillingly of her parents, deciding last-minute to go to that party, but pressed her lips against that thought. This was not the same thing.
“This is where you’re eating, I take it? Fancy.” And just like that, he was back to an easy, jokey tone. He walked her to the door, holding it open for her, and a wave of heat hit them, along with the smell of garlic, mussels, and, she was pretty sure, port. It was dimly lit in here, which worked for the festive theme, with green tinsel decor around the sides of booths, though she couldn’t quite imagine how it would feel in summer. She’d been in here only once before, and that had been in winter too, for a work lunch.
The hostess took her coat and bags, and was in the process of instructing a waiter to take them to the table, when Helen’s voice boomed out. “Josie!” She was walking briskly toward them from the other side of the restaurant, etiquette be damned. She was wearing an extravagant purple dress that showed off an impressive figure, given she was in her sixties. Her blond hair, dyed religiously every six weeks, was in a new style, shaped around her face in a way that accentuated her cheekbones. Josie glanced at Max, but it was too late to tell him to get out quickly. Helen pounced, drawing Josie into a tight hug. Josie caught a faint whiff of tobacco, as she always did, even though Helen insisted she’d given up smoking years ago. Helen was a good few inches shorter than Josie, but you wouldn’t know it unless they were stood right next to each other—Helen had a way of carrying herself that made her seem like the tallest person in the room. She was Josie’s dad’s older sister, and though Josie often tried, she found very little of her dad in Helen, although she often wondered if she would have seen more of the similarity had she had the chance to know her dad as an adult.
“And who is this?” Helen demanded, wasting no time, and eyeing up Max critically with no hint of shame.
Josie cleared her throat. “Max, Helen, Helen, Max.”
Somehow instantly guessing what type of person she was, instead of shaking her hand, Max brought it to his lips and kissed it swiftly. “Delighted to meet you.”
Helen’s eyes narrowed, reserving judgment. “Are you the ‘friend’ Josie was with? Are you staying for supper?”
Max ran a hand across his stubbled jaw. “I wish I could, but I have other duties to attend to, unfortunately.”
“Hmm.” Helen glanced between the two of them before whispering to Josie, perfectly audibly, “What happened to the other one? Oliver, wasn’t it? I liked him.” Which wasn’t entirely true—Helen had only decided to like Oliver after the fourth time she’d met him, a year and a half into the relationship.