James sighs, rubbing his face in his hands. “I wonder if I’m an uncle yet.”
I don’t really know what to say to that. “Let’s toast to it?” I suggest.
“To me maybe being an uncle?”
I take the bottle, unscrew the lid then take a swig. I hate vodka. It instantly burns my tongue and throat, and I want to spit it back out. I make a brave face and swallow, trying my hardest not to wince and shudder as it goes down. “To you maybe being an uncle,” I say, sounding quite exasperated.
I look up at James and catch the corner of his lips quirk as he takes the bottle from me, swigging some himself. The smile stays and he almost looks as if he enjoys the taste. “To me maybe being an uncle. Cheers, Sophie! Hope you’re doing well,” he says to the sky as if she’s somewhere toasting him back.
“To Sophie,” I say. Although I regret it when the bottle is passed to me again and I feel obliged to take another sip. The liquid warms my stomach. It’s probably a good idea for me to get drunk before nightfall if it might help me stay warm. Anything to avoid sharing a sleeping bag with my work nemesis.
Oh, I amnevergoing to live that down.
“What about your other sisters and your parents? Will they be there?”
“Parent,” James corrects.
I wince. “Ah, sorry. You did say.”
He shrugs. “I doubt it. Hannah is busy with wedding stuff. And Josie is more interested in her studies at the moment.”
“She’s at uni?”
He nods, hugging his knees to his chest as the bottle swings from his hands. “Me and Soph made sure both Hannah and Josie could do that. We were close in age, us two, and it was around the time when Mum was trying to feed the five of us on a nurse’s salary. She was working crazy hours. Our nan helped out a lot when we were kids, but she passed away when I was thirteen.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ve lost all my grandparents too. They all died at different times, with different illnesses. It feels like losing a piece of you, doesn’t it? What I’m trying to say is, I understand how hard it is to lose family.”
James nods. “Yeah. It was pretty hard on all of us. Especially Mum. Soph and I were sort of forced to leave school as soon as we could because of it. To support her, you know? I worked in a local corner shop, stacking shelves and whatnot. Soph was a dishwasher at the local pub until she was old enough to work behind the bar. I got bored easily so skipped around a few things. I’ve had a load of jobs. Learnt a ton. Found my calling as a car salesman.”
I bark out a laugh. “Youwere a car salesman?” I don’t know why I find this funny. I look at the shaggy-haired man beside me, with his relaxed, windbitten features. It’s hard to imagine he even sold anything a few days ago. The other version of him though, the slick version in a suit: I can believe that.
He nods, smirking at my expression. “Sold second-hand cars. Made a shit ton in commission. Well, a shit ton for me at the time. I got the bug. I wasn’t beyond putting my dignity aside, approaching people knowing they might well be rude to me. Or asking for a sale. Closing the deal. There’s no dignity in being broke, so you grow a thick skin.”
“And then you got into events?”
“Yeah. Worked at a few other places in between then found the job at The Starr Agency as Sales Manager and progressed from there.”
I smile. I want to say that’s actually quite impressive, and I find myself looking at his face for too long, his dark blue eyes connecting with mine in such a familiar way it sends an awakening shot of energy to my core. So, the words never come. And I’m glad because I’m still not sure where I stand with him.
“What about you?” he asks. “What’s your story?”
I shrug. “Got a master’s degree in marketing. Found a job in the city and never went home.”
“Nah, I don’t buy it. There’s more to you than that. No one works as hard as you do for nothing. There’s always more.”
I blush at his comment. I feel seen. I don’t like it. “Well, I… I applied for the job, and I got it. I like working in events and…”
James snorts. “You don’t even like what you do!”
My jaw drops. “Yes, I do!”
“Which part?”
“The creative part… The, erm… I like being in control of the whole marketing process. It’s rewarding to see the hard work I’ve put in making someone’s day. I like…” Well, fuck. What do I like? I frown across the river as I notice something dark brown worming its way through the current. An otter pops up at the other side, holding something in its front paw, then shoots away into the nearby grasses.
“You’re addicted to it. Like I am,” James states.
“Addicted to what though?”
