After Felix - Lily Morton Page 0,79

good qualities, Max. That’s what makes it all so difficult. Wow! This is bloody amazing.”

I follow him in, shutting the door and leaning against it unconsciously, as if my body wants to keep him from escaping. It’s a beautifully lavish suite. Two bedrooms run off the main room, which has an antique sofa and rather delicate-looking chairs. They’re upholstered in rich blue fabrics that echo the silk paper on the walls, the whole effect one of quiet opulence, as if we’re staying in someone’s home. I eye Felix and see him relax as if he senses that vibe. He’d had a wobble on the Orient Express, but now he seems to be at home. Good.

He makes a beeline to the floor-to-ceiling patio doors that lead onto the balcony. It has a spectacular view over the Grand Canal. Opposite us is the church of Santa Maria della Salute and, despite the sunlight dipping into night, the water is busy with boats and gondolas.

He hangs over the balcony, his eyes everywhere and his face alight. “This is amazing,” he murmurs, shooting me a quick glance before being drawn back to the view. “It’s too expensive.”

“No, it isn’t,” I say briskly, preferring to watch him rather than the view. I never get tired of his face. His cheeks are flushed with the cold, and his hair is a wavy mess from the wind, and he has never looked more beautiful to me. I never get tired of him, period. He’s endlessly fascinating to me.

“I would like to draw your attention to the fact that there are two bedrooms in this suite,” I say. “Just to fend off any accusation of being some sort of rake.”

He grins at me. “Bagsy the biggest bedroom.”

“Well, of course,” I say sourly. “Why discontinue the theme of our trip so far?”

He laughs and heads off to explore the suite. I smile when I hear his shout from the bathroom. “Oh my God, Max, this bath is huge. It’s big enough to swim in, and it’s right in front of the window. I can lie there and look out on the water.”

“Don’t stand up though, or the boaters will get a lovely view of your dick,” I say. My knowledge is born of experience—I’d startled a boatload of nuns a few years ago. “I suppose my role in this scenario is to fetch you food and drink.” I smile as I pick up his luggage and follow the sound of his voice.

“Oh my God, look at this bloody bed. It’s sodding huge. Is it an antique?”

I come round the corner to find him sitting on the huge four-poster bed, bouncing up and down lightly. I shake my head. “You look like a kid.”

He laughs. “I feel like one. This is amazing.” He stops bouncing. “Thank you,” he says seriously.

“What for?”

He arches one eyebrow. “For world peace.” I laugh, and he shakes his head. “Thank you for all this. You shouldn’t have done it.”

“I should have done it when I first met you,” I say, keeping my tone brisk so he doesn’t startle away. “We should have gone straight from the bookshop to Venice and stayed here. I should have romanced you.”

“Well, nothing says romance quite like dangling a room key and promising a good shag. And if we’d headed to Venice, you’d have missed out on the world-class shagging within ten minutes of meeting me.”

I make some remark that I’m hardly paying any attention to, and he laughs, but I was speaking the truth. I should have got to know him the first time we’d been together. I should have romanced him. If I had, would we have missed out on the heartbreak and the lost years? My cynical side says we’d have imploded in the same way anyway because of Ivo. But my more idealistic side insists we’d have lasted. I would have realised almost immediately what I had, rather than throwing it all away on a silly and ancient dream and realising my error far too late.

He crosses to the window, as if magnetically attracted to the view, and I contemplate the best time to bring up the subject that will allow us to finally move forward. We have to talk about Ivo. Every time we get close to discussing him, I freeze, or he changes the subject. It’s as if neither of us wants to spoil the delicate detente that we have going between us.

I’ve always thought that if I could have just stayed sober at