“Used to?” Max asked.
Josie hesitated. “They died,” she said softly. She felt his head whip round to look at her, but kept her gaze firmly on the ground in front of her. “In a car crash when I was nine, driving back from a party on Christmas Eve.” She felt his grip tighten on hers for a moment. He was still staring at her.
“Jesus,” he said. “That’s…Jesus.” She finally looked up at him. His eyes were round, his lips pressed together as he took it in, clearly trying to figure out what to say. This was the worst bit, when you first told people, because they never knew how to react. “That’s awful, Josie—and I know it’s a cliché, but I’m sorry.”
She nodded. Funny, how it was the done thing to apologize, to take responsibility for it. “It was a long time ago,” she said, which was what she always said.
He squeezed her hand. “Doesn’t make it OK,” he said softly.
She felt a lump in her throat and forced it down. She was not going to start crying. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”
The sun was setting now, a blaze on the horizon, the orange glow reflected on the water. “It changes you, that kind of loss,” Max said, his voice husky now, like he was voicing his own feelings and not hers. She wondered who in his past he’d lost, or if he was thinking only of her. “But you get through it, learn to live with it.” His gaze was intense on hers, so that she felt she couldn’t look away. It wasn’t a question, but it was like he was seeking her reassurance then, like he needed her to tell him she was OK.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah.” Her lips threatened to tremble but she kept them still. “It’s a part of me now, I guess, something that will always be there, but I came through the other side, for sure.” She squeezed his hand and gave a little head toss. “I mean, you’ve seen me with my sunny disposition and all that.”
He smiled, but it still looked sad, like he understood that the weight of it still hit her sometimes, the fact that she’d never gotten to really know her parents as people, before they were taken from her, the fact that they lost their lives all too soon, that it could have been different, if only they’d stayed at home that night.
Max was quiet and a little distant as they made their way back to London, sitting in the window seat of the train and staring out at the passing landscape as the sky grew dark. It was like she’d upset him, talking about her parents, like she’d reminded him of something, and now he was lost in thought. She was too unsure to ask outright, not wanting to force him to relive a traumatic memory if he didn’t want to. He’d talked about his parents in New York, about his sister, but she knew that losing a close family member was not the only kind of loss.
He came with her all the way to her flat, and walked her up to her floor, the light still flickering in the corridor. It was cold enough in the corridor that they could see their breath. Josie turned to him and smiled as she fished for her keys. “Thanks for today. I suppose you were right—some kinds of surprises are OK.” The hint of a smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes and she looked away from it, back down at her bag. She found her keys, then hesitated. “Do you…want to come in for a drink or something?”
“I’d better not,” he said, and even though she left a short pause for him to elaborate, he said nothing more. She tried not to feel stung by that. Maybe he thought that she was too damaged, having become an orphan at nine. Maybe he didn’t want to get any deeper into whatever it was they were doing here with someone who had that kind of trauma in their past. She focused intently on unlocking and opening the door. She shouldn’t have said anything. But then, maybe she didn’t want anything more to do with him if that was the way he felt.
“Well,” she said, as she stepped inside and turned to him, forcing a bright smile even though it felt almost painful to do so. “Thanks again.” He didn’t mention the party tomorrow so she didn’t either—she certainly didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want to do.
Max nodded, glancing briefly into her flat before looking up at the mistletoe still hanging above the doorway. Josie followed his gaze. She should have taken the damn plant down the moment Bia was out the flat. When she looked back at Max, she jolted as his gaze met hers, his eyes still holding that same sad, intense look. He frowned ever so slightly as he looked at her, like he was trying to decide something. Then he stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingers leaving pinpricks of warmth behind them.