The CEO finished off the round of speeches and, after announcing more canapés would be out shortly and wishing them a happy Christmas, left the stage to a polite round of applause, which died off soon enough to be taken over by chatter and laughter. Josie dimly heard the violins start up again in the background.
There was a crowd of people surrounding Oliver now, shaking his hand and thumping him on the back. She shouldn’t watch, she knew she shouldn’t. It would only make her feel worse. But before she could make herself look away, his head swiveled around and his gaze locked on hers. She stood up abruptly, and Max, John, and Laura all followed her lead so that the people on the neighboring table gave them odd looks.
Oliver was coming over to them now, taking short, quick strides as he weaved his way around the white-clothed tables. Laura swore under her breath, then shot off to intercept him, jerking her head at John as she did so. Josie didn’t understand the gesture until John walked away from them too, splitting off from Laura and stopping right in front of Cara, who had clearly been on her way over as well, though God knew why. Even feeling as she was, Josie had time to marvel at the silent communication between the two of them—they’d only been together eighteen months, less time than she’d had with Oliver, but she and Oliver had never been able to do that, to know what each other were thinking like that.
It took Josie a moment to realize that Max had hold of her hand and that he was squeezing it gently, trying to pull her along, to get her moving. “Come on, Josie, let’s go.” She gave in to the pressure, tripping slightly as she went with him. Everything around her felt strangely distant, like someone had pressed the mute button and turned down the dimmer switch.
“We can’t just leave,” she mumbled as he dragged her along behind him, back to the entrance hall.
“Why not? You showed your face, didn’t you? Can’t say fairer than that. Besides, everyone will be too hungover tomorrow to remember exactly what time you left anyway.” Josie just nodded, her brain apparently unable to focus on more than one thing at a time, still thinking of all those nights she and Oliver had talked about work, bitching about Janice and lamenting the fact that both of them were overdue a promotion. Nothing. He’d said nothing the entire time.
“Stay here,” Max commanded when they reached the hall. “I’ll get our coats.” Again, Josie just nodded, staring down at the mosaic floor.
“Josie.” She winced at the sound of Oliver’s voice. She looked up to see him walking toward her, breathing a little heavily, like he’d genuinely run after her. She wondered vaguely how he’d gotten away from Laura. For a moment they stared at each other, then Oliver shook his head. “I’m so—”
“I am so fucking tired,” Josie hissed, “of hearing how sorry you are.” He flinched at her uncharacteristically harsh tone and she took a breath through her nose. She needed to get control of herself—the last thing she wanted was for him to know how much this was getting to her. She crossed her arms. “I suppose congratulations are in order.” Perhaps if she were a stronger person, she’d even mean that. He’d always wanted to work abroad, after all. Was always talking about Sydney, New York, Toronto. She supposed, if she’d really thought about it, she should have known he’d never be content to stay in one place, not like her.
“I wanted to talk to you before the speech,” Oliver said, raising his hands in a sort of helpless gesture.
“Yes, because telling me right before Janice announces it to the whole company is so much better.” He said nothing and she forced herself to lower her arms, drop the defensive pose. “It doesn’t matter, Oliver,” she said crisply. “We broke up. It’s none of my business what you do now.” He grimaced and she felt just a tiny bit harsh. This was his big night, and she was ruining it.
“I was going to ask you to come with me,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving her face. “I just…I couldn’t figure out how to do it, how to convince you to leave your life here, which is why I never brought it up before…” Yes, she thought bitterly. Before.
But despite herself, she had a flash then of being in New York, her and Oliver out at fancy restaurants or posing by the Statue of Liberty. She’d never been, so the images were a little fuzzy, things she’d seen on films or TV merged in with bits of London. She sighed. “Not really my thing, is it, packing up for some adventure in the Big Apple? We both know I’m more of a fan of the safe option.” Which is exactly why he hadn’t told her, apparently. She was too damn predictable and he’d known, presumably, that she wouldn’t have been excited by it, would have tried to convince him to stay in London instead. She liked to think she would have considered it, but the truth sat uncomfortably in her stomach, weighing it down—she would have hated the idea, hated the risk of it.