“…and when I come back, I will miraculously have figured out what I want to do with my life and can quit this terrible PA job.” Josie nodded, and tried to look like she’d been paying attention to everything Bia had just said. “That’s how it works, right? Life-changing holiday, life epiphany?”
“What? Yeah, that’s how it works, for sure.”
Bia twisted her lips, clearly unimpressed with Josie’s lack of enthusiasm. “Unless you think I should be a PA for the rest of my life?”
“No, don’t be silly,” Josie said. Though in all honesty, it was relatively hard to keep up with what Bia was doing for work at any point in time—she hadn’t stuck to the same job for more than eight months since Josie had known her, though she didn’t look at it as being flaky, just as figuring out what she wanted to do. Living that way would give Josie near constant heart failure, she was sure, but it worked for Bia.
“Jose, are you OK?” Bia frowned down at her.
“Yeah,” said Josie, taking a big gulp of wine as a distraction. “Just, you know, Oliver.” Bia nodded sympathetically. In truth, Josie hadn’t quite realized she’d be spending Christmas alone until just now. She hadn’t given it a huge amount of thought, trying to put off thinking about the day as she always did, but if she had, she’d have assumed Bia would be around for most of it at least, given Bia’s parents lived in London too. Now, she was facing the grim prospect of spending over a week alone in this flat. She glanced automatically to the coffee table in front of her, to the three envelopes there that she’d been preoccupied with before Oliver had interrupted. The first, unopened, was a formal letter from her company. The second, a Christmas card from her grandmother, reminding her, again, that she was welcome to stay with them for Christmas. And the third, the same letter she wrote every year without fail to her parents.
Bia followed Josie’s gaze, but didn’t ask, and for that Josie was grateful. She couldn’t face telling Bia about her job yet, and Bia already knew why Josie couldn’t bring herself to spend Christmas with her grandparents. But she didn’t know about the last letter. Josie hadn’t ever told anyone about that—it was something private, something she did just for herself.
“You could come with me, you know,” Bia said softly. “The offer’s still there, I’d love to have you with me.” Josie looked up, and hated the understanding she saw on Bia’s face. It made her head hurt, trying to stop herself from giving in to the urge to cry all over again. Today had been a rough day, that was all.
Josie hesitated, then sighed. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” Because the thought of booking a ticket to fly tomorrow was too much, given how drastically her life had already changed in a matter of weeks. She’d seen first-hand how impulsive decisions could lead to devastating consequences, and while that sort of spontaneity seemed to work for Bia, it wasn’t something she’d ever been able to do. Just the thought of it sent a writhing ball of anxiety through her stomach.
“Well, what about Laura then?” Bia asked, referring to Josie’s self-proclaimed work wife. “You know, for Christmas?”
“She’s off to Scotland with her hunky Scottish fiancé.”
Bia shook her head. “Typical. OK, well, look, I’ve got another bottle of this hiding in my handbag…”
“Of course you do.”
“So let’s drink our way through this and the next one, order a takeaway and maybe put on Love Actually, or, as it’s your pick, like Pride and Prejudice or something.”
Josie wrinkled her nose. “Not really in a romantic film kind of mood.”
“Lord of the Rings?”
Josie laughed. She looked from Bia, her heart-shaped face currently framed with curly bright red hair, hair which she’d dyed to go with the festive period but was liable to change at a moment’s notice, to the overdecorated Christmas tree, and felt her chest tighten painfully at the thought of a Bia-free flat as of tomorrow. The burning behind her eyes was back. God, she needed to get a grip on herself. She glanced down at the envelopes on the table again, thought of everything they signified, and knew she had to get out of the house.
“Hold that thought. I’ve just got to post this letter, then I’ll be back.”
“Now?” Bia exclaimed incredulously.
“I’ll be back,” Josie repeated, pushing to her feet and setting the half-empty glass of wine down on the kitchen counter beside Bia before she grabbed the three letters. She dropped two of them on her bed beside the box of her things while she grabbed her phone, bike lock, and bank card—just in case—from her room.