number-one fan. “He says that you’ve completely got the layout of the Minster wrong, and you should pay someone to do your research, because it’s obvious that you’re not up to the job. He says he’s considering not reading you anymore.” I wink at Max. “Phew, I like a forthright man.”
“How about a man who talks absolute bollocks?” he says crossly.
“Well, I had that with you,” I say mildly. “If I can get through that, I can get through anything.”
“You weren’t going out with The Yorkshire Ripper, Felix.” He huffs. “The layout in my book was perfectly on point. I spent a whole week researching that bit. Just tell him that I think he’s an absolute cretin and please don’t read my books anymore. In fact, I’ll be ecstatic to give up his ten pounds if it means that I never have to listen to his crap ever again.”
“I can’t tell him that. It’s so rude. I’ll wish him well and put ‘Regards, Max Travers’.”
“That’s really sticking it to him. Thank you, Felix. Why are you looking so triumphant?”
“Because now he’ll know how pissed off you are at him.”
“Because I wished him well? That’s a whole other level of fuckery.”
“No, because I missed off the word ‘kind’. He’ll know,” I say darkly.
Max starts to laugh. “I never knew you were so passive-aggressive, Felix.”
“Maybe that’s because, like so many of your other men, I bypassed the passive and went straight to the aggressive bit with you,” I say sweetly.
He shuts up until we reach the bookshop where he’s going to be signing copies of his latest book. As we pull up, I swallow hard and turn to glare at Max.
“You never said it was here,” I hiss.
He attempts to look innocent. It doesn’t work. “Didn’t I? I’m getting very forgetful in my old age.”
I look up at the exterior. It’s our bookshop—the one where we met.
Chapter Thirteen
Felix
I reluctantly leave the car. We’re met in the bookshop by the manager—a very intense-looking lady called Paula—and Max’s agent, who is a tall, skinny shark of a man called Connor. As in our previous meeting, Connor barely deigns to acknowledge me.
I’d met him a few days ago when he came down to the cottage with some papers. Max had introduced us, and Connor had obviously decided that I was Max’s latest resident twink. He’d directed his remarks to me somewhere over the top of my head, as if wishing I wasn’t there.
As we walk through the shop, I’m assaulted by memories. Max leaning against that wall, his lazy smile in full force as he charmed me into bed. I’d followed him to his hotel, full of confidence, protected by the Teflon exterior that was such a part of me then, letting life slide over me but never penetrate. He took that, and he broke it, and I still hate him a little bit for it.
If I could go back, would I stop that foolish young man? I shake my head. In all honesty, I probably wouldn’t. Despite the pain at the end, my time with Max was the most formative of my life. With him, I’d felt heard and seen for the first time. He listened when I spoke. He paid attention to me. I’d never had that before in my personal life, and I blossomed. Max’s respect had given me a subtle confidence that I carry with me to this day.
Connor breaks into my thoughts by sidling closer. “We need to sort out that Max has everything he needs, erm…?”
“Felix,” I say, smiling sweetly. “I’m so sorry about that. It’s such a difficult name to remember. You have my sympathy. Men of a certain age have such a problem with their memories.”
Connor looks over at Max, as if seeking help, but Max is talking to the bookshop manager and unavailable.
“Just a word of warning,” I say softly. “I’m not a fixture in Max’s life, and I won’t be around for much longer. But that still doesn’t give you the right to talk to me as if I were a piece of shit. I wouldn’t let Max catch you. He wouldn’t be happy.”
“Oh, really?” he scoffs. “As if Max would be bothered. You men are here today and gone tomorrow, just managing to fill the time with demands of what you want from him.” He gives me a dark look. “And judging by what I booked yesterday, you’ve hit the jackpot.”
“I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about. I don’t actually want anything,