After Felix - Lily Morton Page 0,98

world is resting against me in the form of my Max. “I didn’t think that would happen again,” he whispers.

I feel moisture on my neck. I reach up and wind my arms around him and kiss the side of his head, rubbing my face in the black silk of his hair.

He pulls back, his eyes shiny. “I won’t disappoint you ever again,” he says fervently.

I smile. “I’m sure you will. We’ll disappoint each other.”

“Not like last time,” he says fiercely. “I will never ever let you feel anything but first place in my life again because that’s what you are. You’re fierce and sharp and funny, but underneath, there’s this wonderful softness and a deep loyalty. I know now how much of a privilege it is to have that directed at me, and I promise you I will always protect it. Because I know what it feels like to have been without you, and it was fucking horrible. I missed you every single fucking day.”

I stare at him. “I love you,” I finally say.

He inhales sharply. “Really?” There’s a wealth of emotions in his voice—relief, jubilation, astonishment. And I know what he’s going to say before he says it. It’s written all over that wonderful high-boned, naughty face of his.

“I love you too, Felix. So fucking much. I’ll love you until the day I die.”

And then he kisses me. On Vauxhall Bridge in front of the world. Or at least five nosy pedestrians. And I kiss him back. This big, warm man who makes me feel safe and melts all the icy corners of my heart. And I know with a sudden deep certainty that this is it for us. This time we’re going to make it work because this time we’re coming into it with our eyes and our hearts open.

Epilogue

One Year Later

Felix

The phone rings and I smile when I see Max’s photo on the screen. It’s a picture of him from the trip to Paris we took last week, giving me the smile that still makes my heart beat a bit faster.

“Yep,” I say as the call connects.

There’s a short silence.

“Yep? The love of your life rings you, and all he gets is a measly yep?”

“I’m afraid so,” I say, fighting a smile. “Because I’m not Barbara Cartland.”

“If you were, we’d have lots of chocolates in silk boxes and a spoilt Peke instead of that ferocious creature you adopted.”

I look over at the tiny dog who we found shivering on the towpath a month ago. She’s lying curled in a small ball on the sofa. Her white and tan fur is ruffled out, so she looks like a cotton ball on skinny legs. We’d taken her in that night and despite both of us taking care to remind each other not to get attached in case the owner claimed her, she’d managed to worm her way into our hearts within ten minutes. Max had opened a bottle of champagne when no one claimed her.

“Weetabix is not ferocious.”

He groans. “And that’s a ridiculous name.”

I smile. “The internet suggested naming her after the last thing I ate.”

“I feel stupid calling her that name.”

I bite my lip to hold the smile in. “You just feel silly because she never comes to you,” I say and then carry on in an earnest voice. “It’s not her fault that she doesn’t like you, Max. You can’t be everyone’s cup of tea.”

“I’d rather be that than a dog’s dinner. I’m telling you she watches me while we sleep. She’s putting me in reserve for when the Winalot runs out.”

“Well, I’ll be fine then, especially when there’s so much of you to nibble on.”

“Are you saying I’ve got fat?” He’s trying for indignation, but laughter is winning. “How very dare you, Felix Jackson.”

I’m lying because he’s as fit as ever, jogging down the towpath for miles every day. His long, rangy body is now a familiar sight on the path, and as per usual with Max, he seems to know everyone. He moved in with me on the boat the first night we got back together and never left. I’m sure some people think it’s too soon, but I’m equally positive those people didn’t have a two and a half year gap in their relationship and Max warming their bed.

“More of you to love,” I say happily, listening to his splutters.

“People only say that when they’re shagging the homely pool-maintenance man.”

“Then you’re safe,” I say placidly. “We don’t have a pool. Just a canal. Unless