She felt Max grip her hand again, pull her round to him. But instead of starting to run, he twirled her under his arm, making her laugh again. He put one big hand on her hip when he spun her back to him. She shook her head. “What are you doing?”
He spun her in a circle again. “What does it look like?”
And then they were dancing down the street, letting the rain fall around them, grinning at a woman under an umbrella when she looked at them incredulously. Josie had a feeling that people would be watching them out of windows but she didn’t care, she just kept laughing and spinning, deciding that dancing in the rain on a random street in London should be on everyone’s bucket list.
They were both breathless when they stopped. He smiled, smoothed back her sopping hair, and kissed her, and she did not care, in that moment, that her feet were sodden or her fingers were numb, because she would have quite happily stayed out here, kissing him, until the rain stopped. The cold got the better of them in the end, though, and they were both shivering a bit when they got back to her flat. She switched the heating on, knowing it would take a good hour before the flat was properly warm. When Max pointed out they’d both get warmer much more quickly if they showered together, Josie agreed.
While Josie blow-dried her hair, Max curled up on her sofa, reading the book she’d left there. She came to the doorway of the living room and leaned against it, watching him. He looked so perfect there, next to Bia’s Christmas tree, like some sort of TV advert. He seemed to sense her watching and looked up from the book, smiling at her.
She walked toward him, keeping her hands clasped behind her back. He noticed the way she was holding herself, deliberately hiding something, and cocked an eyebrow. She stopped, shifting her weight awkwardly from foot to foot. “I’ve, err, got something for you.”
“You have?” He smiled, held out his hands. “Well, hand it over then.”
She hesitated, then produced the blown-up photograph from behind her back, which she held up for him to see. It was the photo he’d commented on at the beach, the one with him sideways on, almost in silhouette, the smile on his face only hinted at, like it was some kind of secret. She bit her lip as she waited for his reaction. “I was going to get it framed for you, but, well, I ran out of time, and seeing as how it’s Christmas Day today…”
He took it from her gently, making sure to only touch the sides. Then he looked up at her. “I love it.” The smile he gave her was a little sad, and she wondered if she’d made him feel awkward, giving him something, like he had to give her something in return. “It’s not much,” she carried on quickly, “not like those earrings, and you don’t have to feel obliged to take it with you or anything, I just wanted…”
He stood, gave her a quick kiss on the lips to stop her talking. “I love it,” he said firmly. “It feels like I have a part of you to take with me now.” She tried to smile at that—after all, that’s exactly how she felt about her photography, like she was giving a part of herself, but…to take with him. When he left. Did that mean he didn’t want to see her again, when he got back from New York? She couldn’t quite bring herself to ask, in case it ruined the day, so instead she settled for another glass of wine, for curling up next to him while they watched Harry Potter.
Neither of them brought up the matter of him staying over again—it was just assumed. Later, when they were in bed, her back pressed against him, his hand in hers, she remembered that his flight had been moved to Boxing Day. He hadn’t mentioned it all day and she wondered if he, too, was pretending that it wasn’t happening, was allowing himself to think that it might be canceled again, that maybe they’d have a bit more time together. He kissed her softly on her neck, running his free hand down her side, and she felt the heaviness behind her eyes taking over. She’d talk to him tomorrow, she thought sleepily, before he left. Maybe she could go with him to the airport. Surely they’d see each other again, surely they could try to make something work, even if it was long distance? Bristol wasn’t that far away, after all.
She felt her breathing slow, felt the world around her drift. Dimly, she heard him murmuring something to her as she succumbed to the foggy sleepiness, but it was distant, just out of reach, so she couldn’t quite grasp the words. He’d tell her tomorrow, if it was important. She was smiling as she fell asleep, thinking of him, dancing with her in the rain.
It was the cold that woke her the next day. It took a moment to realize that it wasn’t just that the heating had gone off, it was the absence of a warm body next to hers. She sat up, blinking blearily. It was so quiet, like the entire block of flats was sleeping in after a heavy day yesterday. She frowned as she looked over to Max’s side of the bed. The sheets were rumpled, the pillow a little dented. She trailed her fingers over the sheet—it felt cool to the touch.