to see if you’ve changed your mind about coming to my work do?”
I wince. “Oh no,” I say stumbling over the words. “I told you I couldn’t make it. I’m so sorry.”
I really don’t want to go, as his best friend Lally will be there, and she’s passive-aggressive on the best day and reserves me for her extra-special victim. The thought of sitting with the two of them while they itemise my transgressions is extremely tiring.
“Hmm,” he says in that carefully critical voice he’s always used around me. “I suppose you’ll be down the pub with Tim as usual, getting pissed and making fools of yourselves.”
“God willing,” I say brightly, rolling my eyes. Carl was never as happy as when he could criticise. I suppose I was a blessing in that respect, as I was never well-behaved and the perfect subject for his reforming tendencies.
“I wish you’d find other friends. Better friends,” he emphasises. “Tim is such a bitch.”
He's got a point, but Tim hates him with a passion. Says he’s a sanctimonious wanker who wanted to change me into a secretary monk. Oddly enough, Tim always loved Max and was more devastated when we split than anyone. Apart from me.
Carl and I exchange a few more pleasantries before he rings off. I wince as I put the phone down. He was truly not my finest moment. We went out for a while, and he fell in love with me, but it was too soon for me after Max, and I couldn’t reciprocate.
Who am I kidding? I couldn’t have returned Carl’s love if it had been twenty years since saying goodbye to Max. My heart is obviously a duckling; it imprinted on Max a long while ago and won’t totally let go. Ironically, I leapt from the Max disaster to a relationship with Carl where I was the one playing the Max role.
It was horrible, but it gave me the clarity I needed to let a lot of my bitterness go. After all, Max had been in love with Ivo for years, and he tried to behave well towards me. Max and I had an agreement, and I was the one who broke it. It wasn’t his fault that I fell in love with him. After being in the same situation, I know how fucking difficult it is to be with someone when your heart is elsewhere.
Despite this, the thought of that time is still painful enough to know I’m making this meeting with Max as brief as possible. Because even though I let most of the bitterness go, there’s still a kernel lodged in my heart that rages against the fact that he didn’t love me back.
“That’s a grumpy face,” Zeb says, coming into my office with a bundle of papers. “Do you not want to do this? Jesse and I could always take a day and drive up there and do it ourselves.”
“Don’t be silly,” I say, holding out my hand for the papers and putting them into a folder that I retrieve from my desk drawer. “You’re both busy, and it’s only a few miles away from where I’ll be. It won’t take long at all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Course I am. Max means nothing to me. It’s fine.”
He nods, but his expression remains doubtful.
Chapter Ten
Felix
I look over the breakfast table at my companion on this supposedly dirty getaway.
“How are you feeling?” I ask loudly.
“Ouch! For fuck’s sake, Felix,” he hisses. “Can’t you keep your voice down?”
I give that idea some serious consideration. “No,” I say even louder and without a jot of sympathy.
Andrew raises his head from where it’s cradled in his hands. His eyes are bloodshot and his salt-and-pepper hair is dishevelled. He looks like a daddy, but not the sexy kind. More the kind that hasn’t had any sleep for three days and is slumped in the baby aisle of Tesco’s at three in the morning.
“Well, this is a lovely weekend,” I say brightly, stirring my tea and making sure my spoon hits every inch of the cup. He winces and my smile grows brighter. “You fell asleep on our first night here at seven o’clock. That was followed by what can only be termed a drinking binge the following evening which entailed you spending the night passed out under the chaise lounge in our room. Hardly the stuff of a young man’s sexual fantasies.”
“I said I was sorry,” he says testily. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re rather high maintenance, Felix, and I’m not