Page 29 of After Felix
“You want me to get drunk and sleep with whoever isn’t nailed down.”
He laughs, his dark eyes warming and lighting from within. “Not at this time of the day,” he says primly. “No, just fake it.”
“Fake it?” I stare at him in disbelief. “Thatis your advice? Fake it.” I shake my head. “Outrageous.”
“Not really.” He laughs. “It’s what I’ve done all my life. Projectenough of a confident exterior, and people will believe it. They’ll believe anything if it’s said with surety. Even if we say it to ourselves.”
“Some days I really feel you’d be happier running a cult.”
That startles a laugh out of him, and he suddenly pulls me into his arms, hugging me and dropping a smacking kiss on my face. “They’d have very stunning robes,” he says, blowing a raspberry in my neck. “And I’d put you in charge of the tranquillity classes, seeing as you’re so very zen.” I brush him off, laughing but warming inside. Some days I reckon I must look like a sunflower tilting to face wherever he is.
“Come on,” he says. “I’m here. Zeb’s coming later. These arenicepeople.” He pauses. “Well, apart from Patrick and Henry’s mother. You can’t have everything.” I laugh and he strokes my hair back from my face. “You’re going to enjoy the weekend, and people will love you.Nothingis going to go wrong.”
“I can tell you’ve never read any Greek tragedies,” I say sourly.
He laughs as he gets out of the car and opens the boot to get the luggage. The huge front door of the house opens, and a man appears. I blink. He’s stunning. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, he’s tall and broad-shouldered with blond hair that falls in waves down to his shoulders.
He grins widely and calls Max’s name with huge delight. Max goes still as he glances up at the man, an almost anguished look crossing his face. Then he takes a step, and the house sends a shadow over his face, hiding it from me.
At next glance, his smile is there once again, and I wonder whether I’d imagined his sorrowful expression.
“Ivo,” Max says.
I can hear the smile in his voice. It’s one of my favourite things about him. The way he always seems on the verge of smiling or laughing.
Dumping the bags, Max crosses the ground in great strides as the other man rushes towards him. They collide in a big hug with a lot of laughter and a torrent of words.
I watch them unnoticed from the car. They’re of a similar height and move with the same spare grace. So, this is the mysterious best friend and one of the grooms. Unease stirs inside me.
The blond man—Ivo—says something to Max, and they turn to look at me. Max gestures towards me. “Come and meet Ivo,” he calls.
I get out of the car, adjusting my sunglasses. When I come within reach, Max grabs my shoulder. “Felix, meet Ivo, my best friend. Ivo, meet the sharpest tongue this side of the channel.”
I wince.Well, that sort of put me in my place, didn’t it?Not Max’s friend or his lover. Just a sharp tongue. I paste a smile on my face and hold out my hand to shake with Ivo. “Nice to meet you.”
He’s tanned, with high cheekbones and arched dark eyebrows over unusual golden-coloured eyes. His smile is utterly charming.
“So nice to meet you, Felix,” he says with a French accent that lends him an even more romantic air, if that’s possible. “Max has told me a lot about you.”
While he’s told me absolutely nothing about you,I think.And why is that? This is his best friend and Max has totally avoided talking about him. There’s something rather ominous in that omission, because he should have done. I hadn’t pushed him when he’d seemed reluctant to answer questions about Ivo and the wedding. And maybe I should have pushed. I hadn’t wanted to make things awkward between us by discussing something that obviously made him uncomfortable. But, in so doing, I now realise that I’ve made the coming weekend quite awkward –for myself. I have no idea what to expect from these people whom Max knows so well.
“Really?” I say, holding my smile. “Hope it’s nothing libellous.”
Max laughs, and I sneak a sidelong look at him. His laughter is just an inch over being too loud, as if his usual ebullience has been dialled up a few notches. “Felix, I could never share everything about you. Nations would tumble.”
“Well, I am very extra,” I say lightly. “Congratulations on your wedding,” I say, turning to Ivo, who is watching Max and me closely. “Thank you for having me here.”
“You’re very welcome.” He gifts me with another smile. The front door opens and another man steps out, and Ivo’s smile widens and becomes impossibly tender.
“Henry,” Ivo calls. “Come and say hello. This is Felix. Max’s date for the wedding.”
The redheaded man steps forward, smiling at me, and I warm to him instantly. He’s very pretty with the most beautiful hazel eyes, but his smile is also kind and wise.
“Hello,” he says, his voice rich and very posh. “So, you’re seeing Max? How long a stay will that grant you in an asylum?”
I laugh. “I should probably just buy the place. It’ll make the frequent visits a lot more comfortable.”
The three men laugh. They’re so bright, they’re like a mirage, and I feel a twinge of insecurity. I know Henry is a family lawyer because Zeb told me. And Ivo and Max are renowned war journalists. And meanwhile, here I am, a lowly assistant who lives on a boat. Then I remember my spine and stiffen it, giving them a smile that’s more assured than I feel.
