one minute and quiet with emotion the next. I notice many of them looking at him with affection and feel a sudden desperate pride. His performance is doubly impressive because he wrote this speech on the back of an envelope while we were on the train, and I was trying to beat him at backgammon.
Afterwards, everyone gets up and makes a beeline towards the bar, and I hover awkwardly, not sure what to do. Should I head to the bar myself, or wait for Max to come and get me?
“Hello.”
I turn to find a handsome man looking at me. He has brown hair swept back from a fine-boned face and very blue eyes.
“Hello,” I reply rather uncertainly.
“You’re with Max, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yes. He should be back soon,” I say, still unsure why he’s talking to me.
He looks me up and down, and I blink because it’s been a while since a stranger so methodically stripped me with the power of his eyes.
“That’s good,” he drawls, and I realise that he’s American. “I haven’t seen Max since Shanghai.”
“Oh, yes?” I say brightly, because call me cynical, but I’ve got a feeling where this conversation is going. This is one of Max’s conquests. I wait to feel the customary rage that for two and a half years has been my unacknowledged companion, but for the first time, it doesn’t come. I only want to laugh. “And when you say Shanghai, you don’t mean The Bund or the Yu Garden, do you? You actually just mean shagging him. Poor Max. I don't know where he gets his stamina from.”
He stares at me in astonishment and then laughs. “I can see why he was hovering over you like your ass was made of gold.”
“Was he?” I say startled.
He grins. “Yep. It was kind of scary, to be honest. I haven’t seen Max like that before.”
I jerk. “You haven’t?”
“Fuck no.” He winks. “And I’ve seen him in many permutations, if you get my meaning.”
“Like you’ve hit me over the head with it,” I say wryly.
He laughs again. He has an open cheeriness about him that I like. As if everything is a joke.
He edges closer. “I thought about asking for a repeat, to be honest. My boyfriend is here too, and he remembers Max and Ivo very fondly.”
“That Max. Such a bad boy.” I jerk. “Wait. Max and Ivo?”
He grins at me. “Have you met him? Lots of blond hair and attitude.”
“Only the once,” I say grimly. “But he certainly made an impression. So, you and your boyfriend and Max and Ivo all…?” I hesitate, looking for a polite word. I give up. “You all shagged, then?”
He laughs. “Like rabbits all night. It was wild.”
“And it was definitely with Ivo?” I’m a bit startled and I don’t know why.
“Of course. I remember it because that French accent was fucking sexy, and well, it was Max. He’s memorable all on his own.’
“He certainly is,” I say faintly. “Like a dose of the clap.” I hesitate. “Did they do that often?”
“Oh yeah.”
Someone shouts at him, and he grins at me and wanders off. I stare after him, thoughts roiling in my head. I’m astounded by that revelation. Max never shared me. Not that there’s anything wrong with sharing. I’ve been in many a threesome and had a wonderful time. But Max never made any attempt to do that despite us not being exclusive, and he’d had opportunities. I remember one night in a club when a bloke approached us while we were dancing. He wound himself around us, and I’d never seen Max move so quickly. We were out of the bloke’s boa constrictor grip and in a taxi within five minutes, and Max had fucked me hard that night.
I find myself wondering about the exact nature of Max’s relationship with Ivo, something I’ve never wanted to do before because I’ve always taken his declaration of love for Ivo with the same certainty as he’d proclaimed it.
I remember Zeb’s words after I’d left Max. At the time, Zeb’s insistence that Max had convinced himself he was in love with Ivo had rung as a hollow assurance, a salve for my hurt feelings. But maybe it wasn’t. There was nobody in the world who knew Max as well as Zeb.
“Hello.” A voice interrupts my thoughts.
I turn to see the large man who I remember Max pointing out as his old editor, Kevin. He’s easily six foot four and has a mane of silver hair pushed back from his