After Felix - Lily Morton Page 0,88

face. His eyes are very clever-looking.

“Hello,” I say. “You’re Max’s old editor, aren’t you?”

His grin is full of charm. “The wrinkles and grey hair are all Max’s doing. I’m actually only twenty-three.”

I burst out laughing. “You have my sympathy,” I say solemnly. “I bet he was a bloody handful.”

“My own and several other people’s too,” he says wryly. “I’m surprised I never imploded what with dealing with him and Ivo.”

I smile at him. For some reason, Ivo’s name only gives me a slight pain, and I wonder why that is. “I bet it was worth it,” I say lightly.

He looks past me at the group of people surrounding a grinning Max. They’re laughing at something he’s saying, their faces full of light and humour.

“He was the best,” he says simply. “I’ll never have another like him or Ivo. They were a formidable team. Max had an eye for a story and could get anyone to talk, and Ivo took the most heartbreaking pictures. Beautiful and terrible, if you know what I mean?” He glances at me, and I nod. “Max was a fucker though. Ivo at least had some self-preservation, like a cat who knew exactly what he was doing and would end up on his feet. But Max would plunge headfirst into whatever was happening without a second’s thought. He was a fearless fucker.”

I think of him shaking after his nightmare on the Orient Express the other night and bite my lip. “Do you want him back?”

“I should say I’d have him back tomorrow, but I can’t.” I must look startled because he smiles. “Being a journalist teaches you after enough years that people are expendable, but I can’t feel like that about Max.” He shrugs. “I was relieved when they both retired.” He looks at Max, and a fond smile appears. “I was worried about Max, though for ages afterwards. Ivo retired first and seemed okay, but Max couldn’t seem to settle and kept trying to come back. I’ve seen it in so many journalists. They get addicted to the high-octane existence and can’t settle to normal life. I thought we’d lose him.”

I stiffen. “Why?”

“He was careless, drinking too much, not paying attention. Once Ivo left, he seemed lost. Like his mooring rope had snapped.”

“Are you still worried?” I hold my breath for his answer.

He laughs. “Nope. Not after the conversation I had with Connor yesterday.”

My brows furrow at the mention of Max’s agent. “Why?”

“Because Max is settled now, or nearly there.”

“He doesn’t appear to be even remotely settled.”

He grins at me. “I’ve known him since he was a lad and he’s definitely found his peace now. Ivo found his, and Max needed to do the same.”

“And what is it that’s given him peace?”

“Maybe you should ask who has given him peace,” he advises me. Someone calls his name. He offers me a genial smile and, after clapping me on the shoulder, he saunters off, leaving me alone with my mind teeming.

Max finds me a few minutes later. “Alright?” he asks.

“Yes, fine,” I say quickly. I eye him. “You were predictably not too terrible,” I say.

His laugh is loud and lovely, and several people around us smile.

“Ah, Felix, how I do live for your pearls of praise. They make everything worthwhile.”

I smile at him.

He scrutinizes my face, his eyes going dark. “Let’s go and get some food,” he says abruptly.

“Don’t you want to eat here?” I ask, startled. “I thought you’d want to tell old stories and meet your old mates.”

“Not many of those left now,” he says. “Not at these things. This is the new guard.”

“Does that make you feel sad?”

His eyes get a far-away look for a second. “No,” he says. “I actually feel rather proud of the contribution I made to cracking stories that really made a difference to ordinary people. But now it’s their time. I have other things to do. Important things.”

“Well, I suppose you do have to say that,” I say, deliberately offering a dig. He laughs and goes to move away, but I grab his arm. “I want you to know that I’m very proud of you.”

“What?” The word is almost breathless.

I nod, slightly nervous under his gaze. “I am. It isn’t easy to leave something you l-love.” I stumble over the words, and his eyes sharpen. “But you handled it with grace and dignity, and I don’t think you’ll ever stop being that rabble-rousing young man. You’ll never lose that big brain or your compassion for people who need help.”

His