Page 12 of After Felix (Close Proximity #3)

CHAPTER SEVEN

FELIX - ONE MONTH LATER

Over the last month, I’ve grown to love the bike though.

It’s a representation of how things have changed between Max and me.

Instead of meeting me in a hotel bar and then taking me upstairs to shag, he’s devoted his time to showing me as many places beyond London as he can.

I have a sneaking suspicion that his new interest in sightseeing was inspired by my revelation that day in Neal’s Yard that I’d never been outside London.

We’d travelled by bike to Camber Sands and walked along the beach, talking and laughing while the cool sea rolled over our feet on the sand flats.

Later, we’d sat at a small seaside pub with wood panelling, drinking white wine and feeling the salt sting our faces as the sun sank into the water in a ball of reds and purples .

On another memorable occasion, we caught the ferry to the Scilly Isles.

We didn’t do anything over the top, just walked along the beach and wandered around the villages and stopped for a meal.

I’d loved every minute. It had felt a bit like one of those romcoms my mum loved so much and I used to sneer at.

A few times, I almost turned to search for the cameras.

Max has been as passionate as ever this month, but also tender—absorbed in me and fascinated by whatever I’ve had to say.

However, at times I’ve chanced to see a brooding expression on his face that should have made me wary.

Still, I have a horrible suspicion that no matter how hard I try to pull back from the edge, my heart has already sent me spiralling over a cliff.

I can’t help it. He’s just so… Max. That's the only way I can describe what he is to me. He’s Max.

I turn my head to watch him as he drives.

My easygoing, passionate companion of the last month seems to have vanished.

He’s staring at the road; his fingers are sure on the wheel but his eyes are turbulent.

He hasn’t spoken since we stopped at a pub for lunch and even then he was quiet.

I have the unnerving impression that if an alien beamed me up from the front seat, Max wouldn’t even notice.

I swallow hard and shift position again, suddenly wanting his attention on me desperately. When he’s in a good mood, it’s like bathing in the warmth of the summer sun, but today his mood has gone behind the clouds, and I can’t seem to shake the feeling of cold.

He doesn’t even acknowledge my movement, and I open my mouth to launch into some desperate conversation. Luckily for my dignity, he flicks the indicator and turns into a drive guarded by huge stone posts on which two fierce-looking stone eagles perch.

“Fancy,” I say.

“What?”

I narrow my eyes as he continues to stare fixedly ahead. “Oh, nothing,” I say casually. “Just thought you should know that I’ve been naked for the last hour.” No response. “It created quite a stir in the petrol station. If a riot ensues, I’ll expect you to protect me.”

“Hmm.” He scratches his chin and then turns his head quickly, as if feeling my gimlet gaze. “Sorry, did you say something? ”

I wince but pin a smile on my face. “It’s nothing.

I just—” A huge Elizabethan house has appeared in front of us, its gold-coloured brickwork gleaming in the late afternoon sun.

“Holy shit, is this where the wedding is?” I turn to Max.

“You said it was being held in one of the groom’s homes, you piss-taking wanker. ”

A welcome smile touches his wide mouth. “This is the groom’s home.”

“What?”

“Ivo is marrying Henry, who happens to be the younger brother of Silas, the current Earl of Ashworth. Henry, Ivo, and Silas grew up here.”

I stare at him for a long second. “Oh, I remember now. Henry and Ivo are stepbrothers. A bit like Dynasty .”

“ Were stepbrothers,” he corrects me. “For a year or so I think. Their parents divorced almost as quickly as they got married.”

He pulls up with a flourish outside the house. He turns off the engine and unbuckles his seat belt. As he opens the door, he looks over at me. I haven’t moved. He asks, “You coming in or just sitting in the car for the weekend?”

“I think I might sit here,” I say faintly, still staring at the house.

He settles back into the seat. “You alright?”

“I’m not sure,” I say desperately. “This isn’t what I was expecting.

” I glance at him. He’s focussed on me as though seeing me for the first time today.

“I just don’t think I’ll fit in here.” This is so unlike me.

I don’t confide weakness to anyone. It gives people a target to aim for. But with Max I usually feel safe.

His face softens. “Felix, you’d fit in anywhere. You’re clever and funny and extremely smart-mouthed.” He traces my lips with one long finger. “And if you’re really nervous, just do what I do.”

“You want me to get drunk and sleep with whoever isn’t nailed down.”

He laughs, his dark eyes warming and lighting from within. “Not at this time of the day,” he says primly. “No, just fake it.”

“ Fake it ?” I stare at him in disbelief. “ That is your advice? Fake it.” I shake my head. “Outrageous.”

“Not really.” He laughs. “It’s what I’ve done all my life. Project enough of a confident exterior, and people will believe it. They’ll believe anything if it’s said with surety. Even if we say it to ourselves.”

“Some days I really feel you’d be happier running a cult.”

That startles a laugh out of him, and he suddenly pulls me into his arms, hugging me and dropping a smacking kiss on my face.

“They’d have very stunning robes,” he says, blowing a raspberry in my neck.

“And I’d put you in charge of the tranquillity classes, seeing as you’re so very zen.

” I brush him off, laughing but warming inside.

Some days I reckon I must look like a sunflower tilting to face wherever he is.

“Come on,” he says. “I’m here. Zeb’s coming later.

These are nice people.” He pauses. “Well, apart from Patrick and Henry’s mother.

You can’t have everything.” I laugh and he strokes my hair back from my face.

“You’re going to enjoy the weekend, and people will love you. Nothing is going to go wrong.”

“I can tell you’ve never read any Greek tragedies,” I say sourly.

He laughs as he gets out of the car and opens the boot to get the luggage. The huge front door of the house opens, and a man appears. I blink. He’s stunning. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, he’s tall and broad-shouldered with blond hair that falls in waves down to his shoulders.

He grins widely and calls Max’s name with huge delight. Max goes still as he glances up at the man, an almost anguished look crossing his face. Then he takes a step, and the house sends a shadow over his face, hiding it from me.

At next glance, his smile is there once again, and I wonder whether I’d imagined his sorrowful expression.

“Ivo,” Max says.

I can hear the smile in his voice. It’s one of my favourite things about him. The way he always seems on the verge of smiling or laughing.

Dumping the bags, Max crosses the ground in great strides as the other man rushes towards him. They collide in a big hug with a lot of laughter and a torrent of words.

I watch them unnoticed from the car. They’re of a similar height and move with the same spare grace. So, this is the mysterious best friend and one of the grooms. Unease stirs inside me .

The blond man—Ivo—says something to Max, and they turn to look at me. Max gestures towards me. “Come and meet Ivo,” he calls.

I get out of the car, adjusting my sunglasses. When I come within reach, Max grabs my shoulder. “Felix, meet Ivo, my best friend. Ivo, meet the sharpest tongue this side of the channel.”

I wince. Well, that sort of put me in my place, didn’t it? Not Max’s friend or his lover. Just a sharp tongue. I paste a smile on my face and hold out my hand to shake with Ivo. “Nice to meet you.”

He’s tanned, with high cheekbones and arched dark eyebrows over unusual golden-coloured eyes. His smile is utterly charming.

“So nice to meet you, Felix,” he says with a French accent that lends him an even more romantic air, if that’s possible. “Max has told me a lot about you.”

While he’s told me absolutely nothing about you, I think.

And why is that ? This is his best friend and Max has totally avoided talking about him.

There’s something rather ominous in that omission, because he should have done.

I hadn’t pushed him when he’d seemed reluctant to answer questions about Ivo and the wedding.

And maybe I should have pushed. I hadn’t wanted to make things awkward between us by discussing something that obviously made him uncomfortable.

But, in so doing, I now realise that I’ve made the coming weekend quite awkward –for myself.

I have no idea what to expect from these people whom Max knows so well.

“Really?” I say, holding my smile. “Hope it’s nothing libellous.”

Max laughs, and I sneak a sidelong look at him. His laughter is just an inch over being too loud, as if his usual ebullience has been dialled up a few notches. “Felix, I could never share everything about you. Nations would tumble.”

“Well, I am very extra,” I say lightly. “Congratulations on your wedding,” I say, turning to Ivo, who is watching Max and me closely. “Thank you for having me here.”

“You’re very welcome.” He gifts me with another smile. The front door opens and another man steps out, and Ivo’s smile widens and becomes impossibly tender.

“Henry,” Ivo calls. “Come and say hello. This is Felix. Max’s date for the wedding. ”

The redheaded man steps forward, smiling at me, and I warm to him instantly. He’s very pretty with the most beautiful hazel eyes, but his smile is also kind and wise.

“Hello,” he says, his voice rich and very posh. “So, you’re seeing Max? How long a stay will that grant you in an asylum?”