“I missed you, too.”
Max sniffs. “Well, this is all a bit disappointing. The least I could expect when my two lovers meet would be them fighting over me. It’s not exactly pistols at dawn, is it?”
Felix snorts. “I think you should probably be very grateful for that, because there would always be a risk that we turned the weapons on you.” I laugh, and he drags my jacket off me. He examines my face, his eyes full of merriment. “You staying?”
“Do you mind?”
“Rather you than Max, but we can’t have everything in life.”
“Hey,” Max says, but he’s grinning. It seems to me that since the day he reconnected with Felix, he’s never been without asmile. I wonder if I’ll ever have that sort of relationship with a man and then dismiss the ridiculous thought. I had it once, and it was built on shadows and lies.
“Have you eaten?” Felix asks. He grimaces. “Of course not. Look how thin you are.”
“It’s fashion week. This isn’t thin. It’s optimal weight.”
“I’m making you something to eat,” he says and holds up one hand when I go to protest. “Something light.”
He gestures me into the lounge and disappears into the kitchen. I settle on one of the squashy sofas. The big window offers a view of London lit up like a fairground and I relax into the cushions with a sigh of relief.
Max appears, thrusting a glass into my hand. “Gin and tonic.” He frowns. “You’re very pale.” His keen glance slides over my face. There’s no lust, no sexual intent, no assessing my potential. Just the simple care that he shows his friends. His eyes narrow. “Felix is right. You don’t look well.” He hesitates. “You’re not doing anything, are you?”
I shoot him a smile. “You’ll have to narrow the field a bit. I do a whole lot ofveryinteresting things.”
He opens his mouth but closes it when Felix bustles in with a bowl. He puts it in my hand and settles down next to me on the sofa. “Caesar Salad. I made it tonight.”
“It looks lovely,” I say, swallowing nausea. It’s probably very tasty, because Felix is a good cook, but the coke and the evening’s events have spoiled my appetite.
Nevertheless, I pick up my fork and take a bite. My stomach immediately roils, turning the food to ash in my mouth. I swallow hastily, and when I look up, Max is watching me, his eyes dark and knowing. They should be. I doubt there’s much Max hasn’t done in life.
He frowns, and it’s likely I’ll undergo a Max intervention soon. His interference usually feels like being picked up in ahurricane and dropped on my head, but he does make me laugh, so that makes his tactics forgivable.
He settles down on one of the armchairs, and I pick at the food as they talk about a wedding of one of their close friends. I watch them as they talk. Their deep connection is accompanied by snark and sarcasm, but the love is very plain.
I set the bowl on a side table when I’ve eaten enough not to be rude, and Felix grins at me. “Zeb was asking about you.”
“How is he?” I like Max’s stepbrother. He has a gentle steadiness about him.
“Oh, fine. On his honeymoon, probably pulling Jesse out of scrapes.” He grins. “He was telling the tale of how he first met you.”
“Oh my god, was that the weekend I met Max?”
Max laughs. “The engagement party. Nowthatwas a weekend.”
Felix grins. “How exactly did you meet? I’ve never asked before. Zeb said it was in a nightclub.”
There’s no jealousy on his face—just a lively curiosity. And why would there be? He has Max’s heart and his whole attention.
“Not exactly a nightclub,” I say. “We just told Zeb that.”
His eyes widen. “Oh my god, was it a sex club?”
I start to laugh, and Max rolls his eyes. “Why would you go for that option?”
“Because it’s you and Xavier.”
I shrug. “True.” Max looks at me, and I grin. “It was at a funeral.”
Felix chokes on his drink. “Max did a booty call at a funeral?”
