Chapter 19
T hough she wished she could go straight home and see him, she couldn’t.
She had a job to do and flowers to sell.
Rosie had hoped it would be a welcome distraction, but she could already picture the look on Max’s face and the thought that his confidence would again be knocked back made her feel sick.
No matter how hard she tried, it was going to be difficult to put a positive spin on this, and Max would quickly see through any attempts to do so.
He’d see them as meaningless platitudes even if what she said was true: that there’d be other chances, other opportunities.
The day passed excruciatingly slowly and as closing time neared, Rosie found herself lingering. She wasn’t ready to go home and hurt Max’s feelings. She wanted them to stay in the perfect bubble they’d created.
‘That was a crazy day,’ Emma said, nibbling on a bar of chocolate as she approached.
She’d gone for another pair of harem pants today, this time in a sage green with a pale vine print on them.
She’d let her red hair down and Rosie could make out dark brown roots creeping in, which somehow only added to her individual look. ‘Same for you?’
‘You have no idea.’ Rosie tossed a damaged flower into a tub and flopped down onto her stool, ripping off her headband, the yellow now seeming annoyingly bright.
Emma frowned. ‘What’s happened? Don’t tell me Finn’s up to his old tricks again?’
‘Finn? No, he’s being lovely, even sending customers my way.’
‘What is it then?’
Rosie explained everything, including the night she and Max had spent together.
Emma squealed at that point. ‘I knew there was something between you.’ But as Rosie carried on, her face darkened. ‘Oh no. Why did you agree?’
‘I just thought I might be able to tell him better than Jeroen. Jeroen would call, say it bluntly and then hang up, leaving Max to dwell. I thought if I was there– if I told him face to face– I might be able to minimise the damage.’
‘Rosie, I really think you should call Jeroen and tell him you’ve changed your mind—’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s better if it comes from me, but I hate what it’s going to do to him.’
Emma reached out for her friend’s hand. ‘All you can do is be there for him. He’ll be disappointed at first, but I’m sure with you there he’ll be better in no time. Shall I walk out with you?’
‘Thanks. Maybe a quick drink for some Dutch courage?’
‘You do know that’s insulting to Dutch people, don’t you?’ Emma tilted her head. She wasn’t cross or annoyed, just speaking matter-of-factly.
‘Is it?’ Rosie was mortified. ‘I had no idea. Doesn’t it just mean you guys like a drinky or two?’
‘No, it’s saying we’re not brave unless we have a drink.’
‘I suppose it is. I’m so sorry, Emma, I didn’t mean to insult you.’
‘That’s okay.’ She giggled. ‘You haven’t said it to anyone else, though, have you?’
‘Thankfully not.’
‘Good. But no, I can’t join you for a drink. Sorry.’
‘Seeing Noah?’ Rosie raised an eyebrow, glad at least her friend was having a better time of things than she was. But Emma’s face paled.
‘No, he hasn’t spoken to me since the bicep incident and I’m sure he hides whenever I go near his shop.’
‘I’m so sorry. Are you sure it’s not just a coincidence? Maybe he has something else going on?’
‘I’m sure.’ Emma gave a resigned shrug. ‘I think I’ve ruined that chance by being so– so– stupid.’
‘Hey, you’re not stupid.’ Rosie put both hands on her friend’s shoulders, catching her eye. ‘And if he can’t see how amazing you are, he doesn’t deserve to have you.’
‘See, you’ll have Max smiling again in no time.’
Oh how Rosie wished to believe it but somehow, she doubted it. She doubted it very much.
She approached the Forget-Me-Knot with a heavy, aching heart, wishing– for the first time since arriving– that Max wouldn’t be there. But what she saw as she approached was worse: he was painting.
A huge canvas stood on the easel and Max, in paint-splattered overalls and a tight T-shirt that hugged his chest, swiped paint to and fro.
He paused, stopping to study the canvas, tilting his head this way and that, then closed his eyes as if manifesting or visualising something.
The paint splatters on his clothes, she noticed, were brighter.
Colours that matched her chaotic, overly bright living room.
After taking a deep breath, he opened them again and began to paint once more.
It was the first time she’d seen him in action and she hated the fear bubbling inside her.
She loathed the idea that she was going to wipe the smile and look of contentment from his face.
A look that had only recently appeared there.
She swallowed down the acidic bile stinging her throat.
Max grinned at her in such a carefree way she nearly turned tail and jumped on the first Eurostar back to England. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t hurt his feelings and she hated Jeroen for asking but herself even more for agreeing.
‘Hey! How’d it go with Jeroen?’
‘Yeah, umm...’ She stood awkwardly nearby, taking a step towards his boat and then changing her mind and shuffling back. ‘Okay.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Max placed the palette and brushes down, moving to the edge of the deck. ‘Was he rude? Jeroen can be like that. He’s quite blunt– says what he thinks– but he’s a nice guy underneath it all. I hope he didn’t upset you.’
‘No, no.’
‘So what is it? Come in and sit down.’ He ushered her to the small table on the deck.
Zoon came over as soon as she sat and pushed his nose into her hands, determined to get a fuss, but even his cute face couldn’t make her smile.
‘Didn’t he like your ideas? I mentioned about you making something inspired by Amsterdam and its history, its places. He seemed excited when I told him.’
She felt a stab of pain in her heart. He’d fought her corner, been so nice promoting her that she couldn’t get the words out. Pushing them past the lump in her throat, she knew it was better to get it out there.
‘He liked the ideas,’ Rosie began, thinking how clumsy she was being. She should play it down, ignore her success. ‘It was just that, umm...’
‘If he was rude to you I’ll call him now.’ Max grabbed his mobile from his back pocket.
Oh God.
‘No, Max, he—’ She took his hand and he lowered himself into the chair.
‘He said I had the job but... Oh God, I’m so sorry, Max.
He said he was sorry but they couldn’t display any of your paintings.
’ The colour drained from his face, now pale and ashen against the strawberry blond of his hair.
She wanted to stop and hold him, pulling him cl ose and wrapping her arms around him.
She continued, wanting to explain– to make it better.
‘Jeroen said that he wanted to, but some of the team weren’t convinced because they already had someone producing similar work. ’
‘Why . . .’ His voice was thick and he wouldn’t look at her. ‘Why didn’t he tell me himself?’
Rosie sighed, knowing she should have stuck with her instincts and said no, forcing Jeroen to do his job. ‘He wanted me to tell you because he was worried you’d be upset.’
‘Like a child who needs his mother to comfort him?’ His tone was sharp with hurt and anger and Rosie didn’t blame him. She’d made a terrible mistake by agreeing and instead of the news being delivered professionally, she’d merged those lines and embarrassed him.
Max tried to withdraw his hand but she wouldn’t let him and held it firm. ‘I don’t think he wanted to treat you like a child. He said he was really sorry. He just didn’t want you to stop painting when you’d only just started again. He said you’re a great artist and—’
‘Stop it, Rosie.’ His voice was stone cold and harsh as he dragged his hand out from under hers and stood up. Her fingers hit the table with a slap. ‘You don’t need to sugar-coat this for me. Despite what Jeroen thinks, I’m not a baby. It’s fine. I get it. They didn’t want my work.’
‘It wasn’t that they didn’t want it. It was that they already had someone similar. It was just bad timing.’
‘Rosie—’
‘It’s not a reflection on you and your art, it was just one of those unfortunate things—’
‘Rosie, please,’ he said again, his voice still cold but with a hint of desperation threading through it.
She knew she should listen to him but she couldn’t.
She just wanted to see the smile back on his face, to see him shrug it off and return to the easel, picking up the palette and brushes and beginning to paint once more.
If she kept talking she might hit on one thing that made him feel better.
‘Maybe if you try another gallery, or wait a bit longer, they’ll change their—’
‘I’m not waiting for anyone to change their minds anymore.’ In the quiet of the late evening, the words rang around them. Zoon pricked up his ears, turning to his owner. ‘I think you should go, Rosie. I don’t think I’ll be very good company tonight.’
‘That’s okay. We can just sit and watch the stars or we could go and watch a movie. I can cook dinner—’
‘No.’ He picked up the dustsheet and threw it back over the easel.
She wondered what damage it had done to the wet paint underneath it.
Had it smudged it? Ruined the painting? She sat very still, her heart beating hard against her ribs.
Max was hurting and though she hadn’t been the direct cause of it, she was partly responsible.
She chided herself for not saying no to Jeroen.
‘Go home, Rosie, please. I’d like to be alone. ’
Without saying another word, he headed inside.
Sensing something was wrong, Zoon followed, casting a glance over h is shoulder at Rosie.
Max closed the galley door and pulled the blind down on the small window, obscuring her from view.
A second later, the remaining curtains closed, Max shutting out the world. Shutting out her.
Tears pricked her eyes as she made her way back to the Forget-Me-Knot . If only Max knew her heart was breaking as much as his, and that she’d give anything to give him the job she’d won.