Page 60 of After Felix
“You never said it was here,” I hiss.
He attempts to look innocent. It doesn’t work. “Didn’t I? I’m getting very forgetful in my old age.”
I look up at the exterior. It’s our bookshop—the one where we met.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FELIX
I reluctantly leave the car. We’re met in the bookshop by the manager—a very intense-looking lady called Paula—and Max’s agent, who is a tall, skinny shark of a man called Connor. As in our previous meeting, Connor barely deigns to acknowledge me.
I’d met him a few days ago when he came down to the cottage with some papers. Max had introduced us, and Connor had obviously decided that I was Max’s latest resident twink. He’d directed his remarks to me somewhere over the top of my head, as if wishing I wasn’t there.
As we walk through the shop, I’m assaulted by memories. Max leaning against that wall, his lazy smile in full force as he charmed me into bed. I’d followed him to his hotel, full of confidence, protected by the Teflon exterior that was such a part of me then, letting life slide over me but never penetrate. He took that, and he broke it, and I still hate him a little bit for it.
If I could go back, would I stop that foolish young man? I shake my head. In all honesty, I probably wouldn’t. Despite the pain at the end, my time with Max was the most formative of my life. With him, I’d feltheard and seen for the first time. He listened when I spoke. He paid attention to me. I’d never had that before in my personal life, and I blossomed. Max’s respect had given me a subtle confidence that I carry with me to this day.
Connor breaks into my thoughts by sidling closer. “We need to sort out that Max has everything he needs, erm…?”
“Felix,” I say, smiling sweetly. “I’m so sorry about that. It’s such adifficultname to remember. You have my sympathy. Men of a certain age have such a problem with their memories.”
Connor looks over at Max, as if seeking help, but Max is talking to the bookshop manager and unavailable.
“Just a word of warning,” I say softly. “I’m not a fixture in Max’s life, and I won’t be around for much longer. But that still doesn’t give you the right to talk to me as if I were a piece of shit. I wouldn’t let Max catch you. He wouldn’t be happy.”
“Oh, really?” he scoffs. “As if Max would be bothered. You men are here today and gone tomorrow, just managing to fill the time with demands of what you want from him.” He gives me a dark look. “And judging by what I booked yesterday, you’ve hit the jackpot.”
“I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about. I don’t actually want anything, and I’ve known him for a few years now, and he has never liked anyone who talked down to me.” It’s one of the few sureties I have left about Max. “Max punched the last bloke who told me I was an opinionated little twink.” I nudge him. “The bloke actually had a point, but Max was hellbent on being chivalrous.” I sigh dramatically. “He’ssuchan Ivanhoe.”
Wheels turn in his eyes, and, after a moment, recognition dawns. “Wait. You’rethatFelix?” he asks in a stunned voice. “Max has spoken about you. I thought you’d be…”
“Less spectacular than I actually am?” I say wryly.
“Older,” he finishes. There’s a long pause as he looks at me curiously. “Now, I understand,” he says slowly. “So, you’re Felix. The one Max?—”
“Yes, I’m one of Max’smanyexes,” I interrupt blithely. “For my sins.”
“No, I mean?—”
He’s interrupted when Max turns. “Everything okay?” he asks, glancing at the two of us.
“Fine,” I say calmly. “Connor and I were just taking a walk down memory lane.”
“It must have been a short walk, then. You’ve only met twice.”
I smile. “Such alotcan be said in such a short time.”
“After a few years of knowing you, don’t I know it,” he says wryly, a smile lighting his eyes. He glances at Connor. “Felix has been very kind to help me while my arm is broken. We mustn’t rain on his hospitality.”
There’s something steely in his voice that tells me Max has, as usual, noticed everything.
“Oh, er yes,” Connor says and gives me a warmer smile. “Felix and I are fine.”
“That’s good,” Max says serenely. “After all, it’s Felix who’s actually responsible for me being an author.”
“I am?” I say startled.
He smiles at me, and his eyes are full of warmth. “Don’t you remember instructing me to do it in that hotel room?”
