Page 16 of After Felix (Close Proximity #3)

He’s steadily working his way through the bottle of wine he’d requested from the waiter. There’s no obvious outward signs of him being drunk, but I recognise the unsteadiness of his hand and the flush on his cheeks, the slight bleariness that corrupts his normally farsighted and alert dark eyes.

I sneak a glance at Zeb and realize I’m not the only one troubled by Max’s behaviour. My normally urbane and peaceful boss looks thoroughly fucked off, and every time Max lifts his glass to his mouth, Zeb seems to get more tense, like an elastic band stretched to its snapping point.

“You alright?” I mutter to Max. The wait staff is clearing the tables, and people are beginning to flock through to the other room where a band has set up.

Max doesn’t respond. He stares ahead as if I’m not here. Patrick snorts softly, and my cheeks begin to burn. Fuck him, I think savagely.

I open my mouth to say something sharp, but Zeb stands, his chair scraping back loudly. “Max, a word please,” he says abruptly.

Max looks up blearily and takes a few seconds to focus. “What?” he slurs.

“I want a word with you,” Zeb says, enunciating his words very clearly. “Try to leave your bottle behind. If you can,” he finishes coldly.

Max stares at him. “What the fuck is your problem, Zeb?” he says. It’s too loud, and a couple of people look round. Luckily, most of the party is in the ballroom.

Zeb leans down. “Not here,” he says and grabs Max’s arm to haul him up.

Max falters for a second but then regains his balance, pushing Zeb’s hand away before following him. He doesn’t even give me a backward glance.

Someone settles into Max’s vacated chair, and I sigh when I turn and meet Patrick’s bright gaze. “Ooh, Zeb’s very cross,” he says far too happily.

“Hmm,” I say in a noncommittal voice, but he doesn’t take the hint.

“He’s going to give Max a mouthful. He’s been furious with him since he found out—” He pauses. “Oops, perhaps I shouldn’t say anything,” he says with blatant insincerity.

“So, why are you? Because that rather seems like the theme of your life,” I say wearily.

He sits back in his chair and stretches. “Because you deserve to know the truth, Felix.”

“Do I? And I need to hear it from you? What on earth have I done to deserve that? Maybe I was a mass murderer in a previous life,” I say sourly.

He smiles. It isn’t pleasant. “I think you should probably just plod along after them, Felix, and have a listen because you deserve to know the truth. I don’t like you, but I equally don’t like what Max has done.”

“What has he done?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“Go and listen,” he urges me happily. He leaves the table and heads to the other room.

I watch him go and then huff and drain my drink. What a tool he is , I think. I’m not going to listen at doors like a snoop. I have more fucking self-respect than that.

Which is why, of course, I find myself wandering along the bottom floor of the house looking in doors and listening for the familiar tones of Max and Zeb.

I can’t find them, and after five minutes I give up and turn to go back to the party.

However, I quickly find myself in an unfamiliar corridor, and that’s when I hear raised voices. Max and Zeb.

“… don’t like involving myself in your business.” It’s Zeb’s voice.

“Well, the solution is very simple. Fucking don’t,” Max says.

My heart starts to pound so heavily it beats in my ears, and I know I should turn back and let Max talk to me when he’s ready.

However, the desire to know more draws me like an iron filing to a magnet, and instead of walking away, I drift closer, feeling my heart rate increase because I know I’m not going to like what I hear.

“It’s not that easy.” Zeb’s voice is sad. “I care for Felix, and I hate that you haven’t told him the truth.”

“I care for him too.” Max’s voice is loud and impassioned. My heart speeds up and I smile. It drops off my face very quickly with Zeb’s next words.

“Do you, Max? Or do you just feel affection for someone you’re fucking? We both know there’s never going to be anything else on offer for him.”

“He doesn’t want that ,” Max scoffs, and my stomach clenches at the utter denial in his voice.

There’s the sound of movement, and when Zeb speaks next, it’s low and intense. “Don't do that, Max. Don’t lead him on. He’s a lovely young man and he deserves so much fucking more than to come in a very lagging second place.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” Max says. “He’s not second place.”

I want to feel jubilation, but his tone belies the words. There’s no conviction there. Just a hopeless, sad sort of resignation and I feel as if I’m going to be sick.

I move away. I don’t need to hear anymore. Unfortunately, I don’t move quickly enough.

“Yes, he is.” Zeb’s voice is soft but implacable. “Because you’re still in love with Ivo and you are stringing Felix along.”

I smother my gasp and fall back against the opposite wall.

My mind is racing, and suddenly everything makes sense.

I feel no real surprise, so it’s likely that a part of me has suspected this all along.

The silence about Ivo, the way Max has been this weekend, the constant drinking to drown out what I now realise is genuine pain.

“I’m not stringing him along.”

“Yes, you are.” Zeb’s voice contains absolute authority.

“And for the first time in our lives, I’m worried that I’m going to be ashamed of you.

Felix deserves the world. He deserves someone who will put him first, someone who will love everything that’s wonderful about him and there is so bloody much of that.

He needs someone who won’t be looking over his shoulder constantly for the person he really wants.

Felix should be enough for the right man. Can you be that person, Max?”

There’s a long silence, and then Max says, ‘no’ and all of my half-formed dreams and plans collapse.

I reel away from the wall and make my way back down the corridor, my heart pounding as if it’s trying to leave my chest. The pain needs to come out, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let that happen in public.

I find my way back to our room, but, strangely, the pain stays buried and I feel numb.

I go to the window and look out. Twilight has fallen, and the grounds are lit with torches.

I jump as a firework suddenly explodes over my head, and I hear the sounds of cheering.

I feel cold and distant from it all, and I welcome that state of being.

I’ve been second place all my life—with my dad and his new family, with my mum too obsessed with her lost relationship to see me.

I was even an interloper with Misha’s family when I lived with them.

For once in my life, I thought I’d found someone I could care about, someone who might reciprocate.

I’d been lulled by the great sex, the intense conversations and laughs, the way he looked after me, only to find that I’m bloody second place yet again.

I stand there for a while, feeling the cold breeze on my face and listening to the revellers below.

I breathe in and, when I exhale, I let everything go—my silly hopes and dreams for a future with Max, the safety I’d felt only with him, the stupid idea that he might be someone who could grow to love me.

I push every feeling away, and then I move about the room, packing my bag.

I’m sitting in the armchair by the window when the door opens. Max’s tall figure is silhouetted against the light in the hallway for a second before he pulls the door shut. “Felix?” he says, the slur still apparent in his voice.

I reach over and flick on the table lamp, and he curses at the brightness and flings his hand up to shield his eyes.

I wait him out, one leg crossed over the other. When he lowers his hand, I watch his gaze flick about the room before landing on the bag by my feet.

“What’s happening?” he says .

“I think it probably should be obvious, but I’m going home.”

“Wait. What… Why?”

“Because I should never have come in the first place. This wasn’t the place for me, and I don’t think you ever intended to bring me, anyway.”

“Why?” He staggers slightly. “Why not?”

“Because you’re in love with one of the grooms, and I don’t think you wanted to rub my face in it.” I shrug. “Not sure why, Max. I’m only a casual shag to you after all.”

He blanches, his face turning sheet-white. But to his credit, he doesn’t try to lie. “I’m sorry,” he says in a low voice.

“Why?” I ask, glad to hear how calm my voice is.

“Because I didn’t want to lead you on,” he says passionately. “You’re not a casual shag, Felix. I care, and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t be so bloody patronising,” I say, and my calmness stops him in his tracks.

He hovers, breathing hard and watching me.

“I am a casual shag. They don’t get much more casual, Max.

You didn’t even have to buy me a drink, and I was yours.

Don’t pretend to care about me now, because after I walk out of this room, you won’t even miss me.

I haven’t made the slightest impact on your world, so don’t give me sweet words to let me down gently. ”

“What do you mean when you walk away? Felix, please.”

I stand up. “I have to go.” There’s harshness in my voice now, because this is it.

I won’t be with him again. I won’t lie in bed laughing at whatever random thought enters his head.

I won’t hear his husky laugh again, smell his scent of sandalwood and feel the silkiness of his hair.

Pain twists in my chest, like something is trying to gnaw its way out.

“No, please don’t go,” he explodes, staggering towards me and then swaying alarmingly as though he might fall.

I push him gently until he lies on the bed. He struggles up on his elbows, but the alcohol makes his movements heavy, and he lacks his usual grace. He falls back against the pillow. “Shit,” he mutters. “I’m so pissed. Felix, please don’t go.”

“I have to.” I raise his legs fully on the bed and hate myself for doing it .

“I never meant to hurt you,” he says, and there’s so much sadness in his voice that I feel tears in my eyes.

“You were so valiant and sassy, and I wanted you the instant I saw you. I thought I could have you, and it wouldn’t mean anything to you.

I thought you were hard, but you’re not, are you, Felix?

You’re soft and wonderful, and I’ve hurt you, and I never meant to.

” His voice is so earnest and melancholy.

“If I could have loved anyone else, Felix, I would have chosen you.”

“And now you’re being cruel,” I say steadily, pulling back. “You need to stop talking, Max, and go to sleep.”

“I don’t want you to go,” he repeats stubbornly.

“I think it’s blatantly obvious that neither of us is getting what we want tonight.”

“I don’t want to love him,” he slurs, and I want him to stop talking right now. “It’s just always been him, and I can’t do anything about it. I would never do anything to spoil his life.”

“Shame you didn’t have the same consideration for me,” I say sharply and then shake my head. “Ignore that. It was a shitty thing to say.”

“Love is fucking awful,” he says slowly.

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” I say. “And I sincerely mean that. It’s nothing and will never be anything.”

His eyes start to close, and I pull the covers up over him. “Goodbye, Max,” I say steadily. “I hope you have a good life. Maybe stop drinking so much. It’s not doing you any favours.”

“I don’t want you to go,” he says. “I need to talk to you when I’m sober. I need to explain.” He grabs my hand. “Please don’t leave me. Promise you won’t leave me.”

His eyes are flickering shut. He’s on the verge of passing out, and I stare down at him, committing his face to my memory.

The wavy dark hair, the high cheekbones and the full lips.

As his breathing levels and he starts to snore softly, I lean down and press a kiss into his hair, inhaling the scent of sandalwood greedily for the last time.

“No,” I say softly. I grab my suitcase and leave the room.

I don’t look back, and on the long and costly journey back home, I steadily pack away all the love I felt for him that was so tender and new, and lock that shit down tightly. And by the time I reach London, I’m resolved to hate him for making me so vulnerable.