Short Stack - Lily Morton Page 0,73
feeling threatened by this newfound nostalgia, so I glare at him, and he blinks and turns back to Max.
“Sometimes,” he says hoarsely, and my heart sinks. “Sometimes, I miss the pace. Like life was spent on fast forward and everything felt richer for it. We had to savour every feeling and experience, because who knew when it could be the last.”
I hold still, struck with incredible fear. Does he miss it enough to go back to it?
Max nods clumsily and takes a hefty slug of his drink. “Me too,” he mutters. “Will it go away?”
“Yes,” Ivo says softly, and something in his voice draws my gaze towards him. He’s looking at me with absolute love glowing in his lion’s eyes. “It’s like missing smoking. The pangs for something that could kill you get fainter and fainter, especially when you replace that life with a better one.”
“What could be better than that?” Max asks bemusedly.
Ivo shakes his head and smiles. “Waking up in the same bed every morning knowing that I’m going to roll over and my fingers will find Henry next to me. Painting in my studio in the sunshine amongst all the colours. Petting my dog and arguing with Henry over dinner. Going to bed together and putting my cold feet on him. And knowing that tomorrow will bring more of the same.”
I stare at him, feeling a lump in my throat.
Max scoffs and breaks the moment. “Mate, that sounds really boring. No offence.”
No offence, I mouth.
Ivo grins. “It’s not boring, Max. It’s beautiful. It’s quiet joy and laughter and happiness that warms your belly.” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t replace that with anything.”
Max stares at the two of us and shakes his head. “You’ve changed, Ivo.”
Ivo looks up, his eyes bright in the lamplight. “How?”
“You used to be the life of everything. I’ve never met a daredevil like you before or since. There was nothing you wouldn’t do.” He gives a low laugh. “Do you remember Hong Kong?”
I look up sharply. I can read people’s tone, and this is telling me he isn’t reminiscing about visiting the Peninsula.
Ivo shakes his head quickly, looking alarmed. I was right. Max is on the verge of a sex story. “I don’t think Henry…”
“That threesome with Pierre, the French photographer,” Max continues undeterred. He whistles. “I didn’t think it was possible to have that much sex in one night.” He laughs and throws his drink back. “I can still see your face when Pierre’s boyfriend walked in on us and got in bed too. It was the hottest night of my life.”
“Well, it wasn’t mine,” Ivo says sharply. “Max, I think you’ve had enough to fucking drink. Henry doesn’t need to hear this.”
“Oh no, do go on,” I say steadily. “I’d love to know some more details about your sexual escapades, and then maybe if there’s time after dessert I can give you some of mine.”
“That’s not fucking happening,” Ivo says harshly. “Shut the fuck up, Max. I’m going to spend the rest of my life with Henry, and you decide that now is the right time to tell him the details of a fucking foursome we had years ago.”
Max makes a scoffing sound. “Jesus, he’s not a delicate bloody flower. So, we fucked. So what? He’s had his share from what I hear.”
Ivo’s voice goes deadly cold, and his accent is thick. “Shut your fucking mouth. I’m not discussing Henry’s past.” He shakes his head. “It’s not just the sex stories. It’s the constant going on about everything we did together as if it was some amazing time that’s never been bettered.”
“It was.”
“Was it? I don’t think so. It was sweat and blood and sights that still have the power to wake me up screaming. Yes, there were good times, but half the reason they were good was because we were living right on the edge.”
“Would you go back if you could?”
Ivo stares at him. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m thinking of going back. I have a job if you’re interested.”
Ivo’s attention is fixed on Max like a lighthouse beam. “A job?”
Max nods. “Pete contacted me the other day and said he’s got a contact in Syria.”
My hands fist around the edge of the table until the knuckles turn white. Syria. I look at Ivo, and my stomach sinks when I see him eyeing Max contemplatively.
Max stares back. “Interested? It’d be you and me. Just like old times.” He pauses. “Provided Henry will let you go.”
I shake my head impatiently. “Stop