Page 40 of After Felix (Close Proximity #3)

I shake my head. “If you’re trying to cover up the fact that Max has shagged more people than Peter Stringfellow, I wouldn’t bother.”

“Not for a long while though,” Henry says quickly and very loyally. “And even at his worst, Max never had a mullet.”

“What a glowing character assessment,” Max says sourly.

“Not my business.” I look over at Max. “You should take his call.”

“I’ll speak to him later,” he says, darting an uneasy glance around the table.

“They’re not going to bite me, Max. I’ll be fine alone with your friends for a few minutes.”

He narrows his eyes at me and then stands, palming his phone. “Please try not to put Felix off me any more than possible,” he says earnestly to Henry and Ivo. “Don’t share any more of your little stories, Ivo. They do not help.”

Ivo makes a zipping motion over his mouth, and Henry laughs.

When Max leaves, a small silence falls, and then Henry pushes away from the table.

“Where are you going?” I ask, slightly panicked at being left with Ivo.

“Just to the loo. I’ll be back in a second.” He glares at Ivo. “Please try not to help, Ivo. It never goes well.”

“I find that quite offensive,” Ivo says indignantly.

“You’ll find it quite lonely in the spare bedroom too, if you upset Felix,” Henry says serenely and wanders off.

Ivo and I regard each other silently for a few moments.

I feel intimidated by him. He’s handsome and older than me, and it’s a fact that he’s seen more of the world and lived a more exciting life than mine.

But I remind myself that I bring my own talents to the table.

Even though snarkiness and extreme sarcasm don’t seem to be things that are in demand career-wise.

“You’re wrong,” he says suddenly .

I raise my eyebrows, unsure if I said the last bit out loud. “Why?” I ask cautiously.

“Max is your business, and he’s all yours.”

“That was a long time ago, and it ended badly. I don’t think my confidence can take a second go.”

“Because he was in love with me?”

I gape at him. “You’re very… forthright.”

He smiles. “You can say rude. It’s fine.” He leans forward. “Max was never in love with me.”

“Well, he gave a very good impression of it,” I say faintly.

He shakes his head. “He’s a loyal friend and confused that with love.

He’s always been looking for someone to love and who will love him back for everything he is.

He’s amazing,” he says with a devoted doggedness that is oddly touching.

“Anyone who has him at their back will be lucky, because he’s kind and funny and once you’re in with him, you never leave his affections.

” He toys with his glass of wine, his long fingers tracing invisible patterns.

“He’s loyal to me because of the shit we went through.

No one will ever know what we shared as hostages, and that's a very good thing,” he says fervently.

“But we could never have been together. We didn’t suit.

We were okay for a roll around in bed, and we had some amazingly fun times, but it amounted to nothing for both of us.

Both of us,” he says, looking into my eyes.

“It just took longer for Max to realise. I was always in love with Henry, and Max just needed to find his own person.” He shrugs.

“It took him a while, and of course he had to fuck his person off first until his person wanted to murder him. Wouldn’t be Max, otherwise. ”

I smile, my head spinning. Ivo’s words ring with absolute truth and mesh with things that Zeb has said in the past.

“He was never the same after you left,” Ivo says. “He lost his spark.”

“And yet he seemed to discover it by excavating the tonsils of most of London’s men,” I say wryly.

“Only after he found out you were in a relationship.”

“What?” I jerk out.

“He went looking for you to get you back. ”

Shock runs through me like I’ve seized an open wire. “ When ? Why didn’t I know that?”

“He found out you had a boyfriend from a friend of yours.”

I stare at him.

“Then apparently Max found you,” Ivo says.

I shudder at the thought of the awful conversation Max and I had outside my boat that night. I’d been so mad, and he’d hardly said anything. I’m reeling at the thought that Max had come to me to get back together.

“Why didn’t he say something?” I squirm as I remember that I didn’t exactly give him a chance to say much. I wonder if things would have been different if I had. I’ll never know.

Ivo sighs. “He came to us that night and got as drunk as I’ve ever seen, and he’s a journalist so you can imagine how much booze he sank.

Henry was really worried.” He shrugs. “Then Max threw up in the kitchen sink, and Henry felt less worried and more ragey, but that’s Max.

Never met a good thought he couldn’t enrage.

” He smiles sadly. “He told me that you were finally happy and that’s all he wanted, that he was a mess and didn’t deserve you. ”

I swallow. I hated him at the time, but now I hate that he was sad. I remember the parade of men and alcohol-soaked nights Max had consoled himself with for years and steel my resolve. “Well, he got over it.”

“Did he? Because as soon as he found out you were single again, he stopped the men. Doesn’t say to me that he’s over you.

” He drains his glass in one long swallow.

“Something to think about anyway,” he says, glancing towards the other side of the terrace.

“I see Max has finished his call, so I’ll say no more except I hope that we can be friends.

Max is very important to me. That will never change.

I just hope you can get over the fact that we used to fuck each other and have fun with other people on occasion. ”

I shake my head. “My last boyfriend had a cat who used to try and shit in my shoes, and I put up with it. I suppose your and Max’s sex life is in the same category.”

He looks stunned for a second and then bursts into loud laughter. I can totally see why people fall for him. Once the arrogant self-confidence fades, there’s a warm and funny man beneath.

“I like you,” he says.

I smile, because the ridiculous thing is I like him too.

Max arrives, out of breath. “Sorry. Connor wouldn’t stop talking.”

“It’s okay,” I say serenely.

Max looks unconvinced. “Everything okay?”

“You know, I think it is,” I say slowly.

Ivo helps himself to a chip from Max’s plate. “We laid a lot of ghosts to rest.”

“Really?” Max asks hesitantly. “As long as the talk didn’t centre too much around who we laid, I’m fine with that.”

“Really, Max,” I say blithely. “You’ve got to get over your wallflower propensities and get out and meet people.”

Ivo laughs, and even though he’s sitting here looking vivid and beautiful, I know that I’ve laid his ghost to rest too. It’s a relief, but also a worry. Ivo has always been the barrier preventing me from taking Max back.

What does a boy do when everything he wants falls into his lap? Does he take it, or does he run?