Page 39 of After Felix (Close Proximity #3)

“Well, I suppose you do have to say that,” I say, deliberately offering a dig. He laughs and goes to move away, but I grab his arm. “I want you to know that I’m very proud of you.”

“What?” The word is almost breathless.

I nod, slightly nervous under his gaze. “I am. It isn’t easy to leave something you l-love.

” I stumble over the words, and his eyes sharpen.

“But you handled it with grace and dignity, and I don’t think you’ll ever stop being that rabble-rousing young man.

You’ll never lose that big brain or your compassion for people who need help. ”

His eyes search my face for a moment. Then, grabbing my hand, he pulls me quickly toward the conference room’s exit.

We come to a stop in a deserted passageway that runs behind the lifts.

Before I can catch my breath, he pulls me to him and kisses me fiercely, plunging his tongue into my mouth to twine around my own, one hand wrapped gently in my hair, his fingers scratching my scalp.

When he pulls back, we’re both panting, and my cock throbs.

“Thank you,” he says hoarsely, resting his forehead against mine. “No one has ever said that to me.”

“Oh well, it’s nothing,” I say, trying to gather my dignity about me again.

“It’s everything because it came from you. No one sees me like you.”

His expression kills my usual go-to flippant comments. Instead, I nod and let him draw me out of the hotel and onto the streets of Venice. It’s cold now, and the biting wind carries a hint of rain. He keeps me close as he plunges down the narrow streets with the surety of a seasoned traveller.

He takes me to a small restaurant by the side of the Grand Canal where the owner greets him with hugs and kisses and a voluble explosion of Italian, which Max answers fluently.

I stand to one side, feeling his hand resting possessively at my back.

I suddenly realise that hand has been there most of the day.

It’s a subtle gesture of ownership which should get my teeth up, but in actual fact just makes me want to nestle into him like a kitten.

I feel like a snow globe that’s been shaken and now the scenery around me has taken on new shapes and a different atmosphere.

I don’t know whether to be scared or ecstatic.

The flip-flop in my belly says it’s a whirling mixture of the two.

Max steers me to a table by the water, and we seat ourselves. There’s a patio heater by the table, and I scoot close to it gratefully. Max grabs his jacket, and I protest as he offers it to me.

“Don’t be silly, Max. It’s freezing.”

He shakes his head and wraps it around my shoulders, and despite my protests, I nestle into the expensive fabric. It’s hot from his body and smells of him. When I look up, he’s watching me with a fond expression.

“That’s one of the principal things I remember about being with you,” he says casually, taking the menu from the waiter with a smile. “You were always freezing. When we lay in bed, your feet were like blocks of ice.”

“What an evocative memory,” I sniff. “What else do you recall? Heartburn and trapped wind?”

He starts to laugh but then sobers. “Oh, did you want to talk about us? I remember you said you wanted to talk.”

“Not about silly memories.”

“They’re not silly,” he bursts out, suddenly agitated and totally unlike his usual self.

He leans forward. “They’re all I have left of you, and if I want to remember cold feet, snark, and silly dares that made me laugh until my ribs hurt, then that’s what I’ll do.

Along with the fact that I get hard every time I enter a bookshop which is a bit of a fucking inconvenience given my job. ”

Without any warning, I burst into laughter. “You get hard in bookshops?”

His eyes dance with mirth. “Every. Single. Time.” Laughter dies away to be replaced with heat and a foreign emotion I try to pretend I haven’t seen. “You’ve ruined me,” he says in an almost conversational tone.

“Many men have said so,” I say, trying desperately to find the flippancy I seem to have lost lately.

“Don’t talk about your other men,” he snaps, agitated again.

“Oh, really?” Anger stirs in me. “You of all people have the nerve to say that to me? Max of a billion beds. You’re a fucking dog in the manger, Max.”

He leans forward, his gaze fierce. “I have every right. I’m the man who’s in?—”

“Max!”

His shouted name breaks into his tumble of words, and I sit back, my heart hammering madly. What was he going to say?

“Motherfucker,” Max mutters, craning his neck to see who’s calling him.

“What were you going to say?” I ask desperately.

He stiffens. “Ivo.”

“Oh my God , please tell me you haven’t just got our fucking names mixed up, Max,” I hiss, absolute white-hot rage searing through me. “Because so help me, that’s the last fucking straw.”

“ No ,” he interjects, looking panicked. “Ivo and Henry are here.”

“What?” I spin around and see Ivo and Henry coming towards us.

Dressed casually in jeans, jumpers, and coats, they nevertheless look expensive and poised, while I probably look like a fish sitting here with my mouth open.

I’m also very aware that my hair is a mess from the wind and I’m clutching Max’s jacket around me like I’m someone he picked up off the street.

“Max!” Ivo exclaims, his face lit with a huge smile as his arms open for a hug. Max glances at me and hesitates for a too-long second. Then he stands up to embrace Ivo gingerly.

Henry smiles at me apologetically. “Sorry for interrupting your lunch,” he says. Then he does a double-take. “ Felix ?” he says hesitantly. I nod.

Ivo and Max break apart, and Ivo gapes at me.

“You’re here with Max?” he asks, and damn him, even astonishment looks good on him.

“For my sins,” I say evenly.

Ivo laughs, but Max steps over to my chair, his hand coming to rest gently on the back of my neck.

Ivo shoots him an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, Max,” he says. “If I’d known you were with Felix we’d never have come.”

“Why are you here?” Max asks.

Henry laughs. “We’re on the way to Capri to spend some time with Ivo’s godfather.

We were in the airport when Kevin rang Ivo to say you were speaking at the conference.

Ivo insisted there and then that we change our flights and stop in to hear your speech.

” He looks at me apologetically. “That sounds as if he was being supportive, but he wasn’t. He just wanted to take the piss.”

I’m surprised to hear myself laugh, but Henry has a way of putting people at ease. I noticed it at their wedding, and it’s still in evidence. He has an air of kindness about him and a smile in his eyes.

Ivo looks at him fondly. “It’s the truth,” he says unrepentantly. “Particularly as I turned the speaking job down.”

“You did not ,” Max says. Ivo grins, and Max shakes his head. “Motherfucker. How many other people said no before me?”

“Well, Alice, the cleaner at the office, really wanted to do it, but she’s got a christening this weekend.”

Max shakes his head and shoves him, but he’s trying not to laugh.

Ivo smiles at me. “Well, we’ll be off. It was lovely to meet you again, Felix. Very nice,” he says.

He takes Henry’s hand and squeezes Max’s shoulder. “Max, I’m sure we’ll meet again. You haven’t christened our new guest bathroom yet.”

Max immediately flushes. “I’m sure that alcohol was off.”

“It must have been,” Henry says demurely. “It was jolly brave of you to try so much of it for us.” He smiles at me as Ivo laughs. “I hope we see you again, Felix. I really hope that. ”

They turn to go. Max smiles at me and sits back down, and I find myself opening my mouth. “Wait,” I say. Henry and Ivo turn round. “You came all this way, and you’re leaving so soon?”

“Well, it’s Max,” Ivo offers. “I usually find five minutes does the trick.”

To my amazement, I laugh. “You’ve got some stamina. I’d have said twenty seconds.”

“Lovely,” Max sniffs.

Ivo grins at me, and I push out a chair with my foot. “Come and sit down and have some lunch with us.”

Ivo and Henry stare at me.

“Felix, there’s absolutely no need,” Max says uneasily.

I shake my head. “They’ve come all this way to see you, Max. And they probably won’t even try to murder you over lunch. That’s a rarity in your life.”

His eyes scan my face intently. “Are you sure?”

I shift uncomfortably. “Of course. We’re adults.”

“Well, some of us are,” Ivo says, sitting in a chair with an insouciance that I envy.

Henry and Max are slower, but they too settle down.

There’s a long, awkward pause, and I’m sure we’re all remembering the elephant in the room named, “Max’s Feelings for Ivo.

” I wonder who will mention it. Bagsy not me, I think, sitting back in my chair as the waiter comes over to take our drink and food orders.

It breaks the silence, and once he’s gone, Henry starts to talk about a renovation they’re doing at home. Max chimes in, mentioning my boat, and within seconds we’re all talking with an ease that, quite frankly, astounds me.

I don’t think I ever imagined a meeting like this.

When I used to think of Henry and Ivo after my breakup with Max, I’d fantasised about scenes where Max proclaimed his love for me and his disdain for Ivo.

Looking back, I realise how young and hurt I’d been back then.

It’s easy to see now that Ivo is not the enemy or the villain.

He’s just a beautiful, intelligent man who shared some incredibly intense experiences with Max.

None of what happened was his fault. I’ve villainised him over the years because he had what I so desperately wanted, and it seemed to mean nothing to him .

Max’s phone rings and he looks down and curses. “Connor’s been trying to get through all afternoon.”

Ivo grins. “Poor Connor. He’s always been so bewildered by your social life.” He jerks, and it’s very obvious that Henry just kicked him.