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CHAPTER 16
“Grub’s up.”
A plate hovered under his nose, and he looked up to see Felicity standing in front of him. She was silhouetted against the sky, her hair gilded like flames by the sun’s last rays, but with her face in shadow, he couldn’t read her expression.
But he knew she could see his. And the way his features felt, stretched tight as if drawn onto his face with a black pen, he’d hazard a guess he looked bad.
Seeing that picture had hit like a punch to his gut.
All he could do was turn on his heels and walk away.
He’d actually forgotten there was a photo of him and Leonie at the back of his latest book. She’d insisted on being in it. She’d said it made him more genuine, more accessible, having a partner. And then she’d slathered the photos all over her social media and used them on her website. Other times, so many others, when it had been all about Leonie crammed into his head unbidden.
Had she used…him?For her own ends?
And now, having had a few minutes to compose himself, he was furious that he’d let it get to him enough to lose his self-control. Was it because he’d been dumb enough to let his guard down? Because he’d—stupidly—let the past few days be a respite, a little bubble of happiness that had made him forget his failures?
To top it off, he realised he felt oddly guilty. Guilty that he’d dared to forget his pain and enjoy himself a little. Fantasise even…
Anger bubbled up his throat. Leonie had left him… not the other way round. It wasn’t like there was anything binding him to her, it wasn’t a crime for him to have feelings for someone else.
Feelings?No.
He didn’t. He didn’t have feelings… for Felicity. Notthatway. He liked her… he was obviously slightly—okay,somewhat, attracted to her. But… ah, fuck—that was the nub of it. He had no idea what was going on between them.
“Oliver?”
He realised he hadn’t answered her, gulped out a strangled thanks and took the plate.
It certainly didn’t look appetising. But then, he’d completely lost his appetite anyway.
Felicity handed him a knife and fork, then drew up a camping chair next to him.
They both sat and silently pushed the food around their plates.
Eventually she said, “Don’t feel that you have to force it down, I won’t be offended.”
He shoved a forkful of gluey cold potato into his mouth and after he’d finally managed to swallow it, muttered, “Thanks, it’s great.”
Another beat of silence. Then a snort.
“What?”
“You’re the worst liar in the world. It’s close to inedible.”
She tried to tug the plate off his lap.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not.” Tug.Thunk.The plate clattered to the ground.
“Jes-usss!” he rasped out and jumped up just as she did the same. “I’ve got this, Felicity.” A wall of red formed behind his eyes. Picking up the plate, Oliver slammed it onto the camp table and stormed off.
He knew he was being childish. Illogical. Hell, he reminded himself of Aaron. And that made steam practically shoot out of his ears.
Of the two Blake brothers, he was the sensible one. The one who held everything together in their family. Look at his success! Wherever he went, people wanted his autograph. He was sought after to run seminars, his opinions published in financial reviews… he wasn’t a chubby, socially awkward kid, he wasn’t a terrified teen cowering against the wall as a police officer announced flatly that his mother was dead. He wasn’t the guy left behind on his wedding day to explain to a hundred and fifty guests—
He was—not—that—person.
