“Oh,” Josie said. “Well…”
“It’s top rated on Tripadvisor,” the woman in the cap piped up, looking at Josie with such an endearing smile out of a slightly plump face, that Josie felt guilty for hesitating.
Josie glanced at Max. “I guess?” She made it into a question.
“Great!” the skirt said, taking that as a firm invitation. “We won’t bother you guys, I promise, you enjoy your date.”
Josie grimaced. Then, when she saw Max making the same expression, laughed a little. His expression softened too as he met her gaze. The two women grabbed stools from a neighboring table, and squished themselves round in a way that clearly indicated the table was not made for more than two.
“Do you mind scooting up a little?” the woman in the skirt asked and Josie, politeness too ingrained, obliged, as did Max next to her. And with that, the space between them disappeared. Crowded round the little table, her elbows tucked in as she cupped her drink, Josie felt Max’s leg touch hers—and, with nowhere to go, it stayed there.
Her skin prickled with electricity and she felt her heart pick up speed. Next to her, she was aware of Max looking down at his drink, refusing to look at her, even as the heat between their bodies pulsed. God, she could smell him this close, that mix of classy aftershave and something that was just all him.
Dimly, Josie was aware of the women at the table talking, something about the Royal Mile and whisky, but the exact words washed over her, like they were outside a bubble, and she and Max were alone inside it. The coffee machine, the toddler crying, the sound of people laughing—all of it sounded distant, separate, every inch of her body focused purely on the feeling of Max against her.
And then Max’s phone buzzed. He jumped, and Josie sucked in her breath as he reached into his pocket.
“It’s Erin,” he muttered, his voice slightly husky. “She’s outside.”
Josie nodded, and without another word, stood up. “I’ll just go to the bathroom, and I’ll meet you out there.” Not giving him the chance to respond, she turned away and rushed toward the ladies’ room. In there, she stared at herself in the mirror, taking slow breaths. Get a grip, she told herself. And get over it. Another deep breath, and she felt, if not ready, then as ready as she was ever going to be to face them both again.
The air was cooler outside the coffee shop than she remembered, the breeze fizzing off her hot skin. Erin and Max were right there, by the black metal stair barrier, but neither looked over as she closed the door behind her.
“Well?” Erin was saying. “Did you tell her?”
Josie halted, her heart lurching.
“Give me a break, Erin, it’s not that easy.”
“I’ll take that as a no.” Erin’s voice was clipped, harsher than the one she’d used earlier today. So maybe she wasn’t quite as happy and easygoing as she made herself out to be. She wanted Max to tell her. Josie let that sink in for a moment. How far did it go? What commitment had they made to each other? She closed her eyes for a brief second. No. Best not to let herself go down that route.
“Josie.”
Josie jolted at the sound of Erin’s voice, the harshness now gone, as if it had never been there. Josie looked at her, and Erin smiled. And she couldn’t, even if she’d wanted to, hate this woman. Because even in the midst of this, Erin wasn’t blaming her for it, didn’t hate her for her history with Max.
“Hi,” Josie said, refusing to look at Max even as his gaze sought hers. She stepped toward them—just one step.
“I’ll order us a taxi, shall I?” Erin said, pulling out her phone. No further mention of drinks, of celebration. And Josie counted herself lucky because of that.
The three of them stood awkwardly on the side of the road, Josie on one side of the shop, Max and Erin on the other. And when the taxi came, Josie got in the front seat, away from the two of them, before anyone could insist otherwise.
Josie emailed some photos to Geoffrey, along with her phone number, as soon as she got back to her room at the castle, knowing that if she didn’t do it right away she might lose her nerve, and not two hours later, when she and Bia were on the way to the final dinner, she got a call from an unknown number. She answered it with a cautious, “Hello?”
“Josie?” It was a voice like a growl. “It’s Geoffrey Gilligan.”
“Oh!” Josie exclaimed. “Hello,” she repeated. Bia, dressed in bright green to offset her purple hair, gave Josie a curious look, and she gave a little shrug.