“Felix.”
Imogen Rana looks up at us, her eyes widening as they dart from her son, then to me, then back to her son again. Her nostrils flare, and I know she’s smelling the change in his scent.
My mark on him.
It gives me the slightest sense of achievement to know I’m getting under Imogen’s skin. I can only imagine it was mostly her idea to cut off my family after what happened. She probably acted like it was one of the most difficult decisions she had ever had to make. Like she wasn’t wary of me and Felix being friends, even back when we were kids.
I was a fat girl. And it made no sense that Felix liked to be around me, even platonically.
“Mom,” Felix says, patting my arm gently. “You remember Maeve Villareal?”
“I do,” she says, her voice tight, her smile even tighter. She’s wearing a simple black dress, her auburn hair curled back from her face. “Of course I do! What…what are you…?”
“It’s so nice to see you again,” I say, reaching out my hand, watching her face as she reaches out for it, too. We shake, and her gaze darts over to her husband’s. It must be killing her to be cordial with me, and it must kill her even more when Felix and I take a seat at their table, which still has a few empty chairs.
“You as well,” Imogen says, fussing with her hands in her lap. “How have you—what have you been doing since you left Silverville?”
“Maeve is starting her own clothing line,” Felix says, his hand finding my thigh under the table. He gives it a squeeze, and I feel its effects throughout the rest of my body. He’s trying to make me feel better about all this.
It’s getting harder and harder to remind myself of who he is, how he hurt me back then.
“Really?” Imogen’s eyebrows hit her hairline, and she leans forward, looking me over in a not-too-subtle way. “That’s really great.”
Everything else remains unsaid. What kind of clothes I’m making. The sense that creating a plus-size clothing line is somehow not as interesting or good as making a line for straight-sized people.
The rest of the meal passes by in tense, stilted conversation. If Felix notices how angry his parents are about my presence, he doesn’t show it, leaning back in his chair easily, like this is any other wedding, and it means nothing that we’re here together.
We watch from our table as the couple takes the floor for their first dance. To my surprise, Felix stands up, holding his hand out to me with a cheeky grin.
“May I have this dance?” he asks, eyes flitting to the dance floor.
My stomach flips, a younger version of myself melting at this exchange. I probably daydreamed about this exact thing at some point.
And now that it’s here, the Ranas’ gazes following us as we make our way from the table to the dance floor, I’m not sure it’s quite what I would have imagined.
“They’re furious,” I whisper when Felix takes my hand and slips into an effortless slow dance with me.
I feel him laugh, his chest shaking. “Yeah,” he says, “it’s kind of fun.”
I pull back from him, raising an eyebrow in his direction. “Fun? To have your parents mad at you?”
“They’re so obsessed with what everyone else thinks,” he says, lowering his voice and fixing those green eyes on me. “It’s kind of fun to mess with them about it, rather than just going along with whatever they say.”
“Everyone around here is obsessed with pack opinion,” I mutter, shivering when he reaches up and brushes my curls away from my face so the cool breeze on the rooftop runs across my bare neck. “Right?”
“Maybe,” Felix admits, tilting his head at me slightly. “But things have been changing. Ever since Xeran came back, there’s been a shift.”
I chew on my lip, avoiding his eyes, thinking about my old friend. “Did you know? About him and Phina—back then?”
Felix laughs and turns me so I can see his parents over his shoulder. They avert their eyes, and it sends a little rush of pleasure through me. “No way,” Felix says. “Xeran kept that stuff under lock and key.”
I resist the urge to ask if anyone back then knew about us—there was nous. Just one kiss in the hallway, and Felix made it clear to everyone that my silly crush on him was not reciprocated.
Swallowing, I pull back slightly, realizing I’ve started to lean into him. I just need to remember what I’m doing here—convincing the lawyer that I’ve mated. Taking the money. Going back to Los Angeles to chase myrealdreams.
At one time, that dream might have included Felix Rana. But not anymore.
Chapter 10 - Felix
