Page 28 of After Felix
“Oh, no reason.” He runs one finger down the paint on the door, looking at it intently. “I just thought you said you’d never date?”
“Maybe it’s time I started. At least, that’s what you said I should do earlier.”
“I did, didn’t I?” He manages a smile after I give him a pointed look. “That’s great. I’m pleased for you.”
He makes his way into the building, and I look after him, puzzled. He’s lying and I can’t figure out why.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FELIX - ONE MONTH LATER
I run my finger appreciatively over the leather seat of Max’s sporty red Audi R8. I’d been thankful to see the car when he’d picked me up this morning, because I’d fully anticipated having to make the journey to Cornwall on the back of Max’s bike. My arse hadn’t been created for that punishment.
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. “Thisisthe 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 likeDynasty.”
“Werestepbrothers,” 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.”
