‘It’s okay, I know you were?—’
‘It isnotokay, Elizabeth.’ Felix looks more serious than when his melons were hard. ‘I knew you didn’t –wouldn’t– do something like that, but I, I was just so scared. There so many things I didn’t know that made me?—’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t?—’
‘No. Don’t apologize. Please.’ He runs a hand through his hair, reminding me of the man I met at the bar. ‘You’ve done more than enough for me when I didn’t deserve it.’
‘I really didn’t do much.’
He skewers me with a look that rivals my older brother. ‘Just so you know, I wrote the check for the Branson Foundation.’
I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off.
‘I 100 per cent appreciate what you did, but that money is yours.’
‘Not really.’
‘Yes. It is.’ He places his hands on my shoulders. ‘You are your mother’s daughter. Your brothers’ sister. That is money that your family, your real family, wants you to have. Money that I would rather you use to go meet the rest of your family, so you’ll have even more people to love you as much as you deserve to be loved.’
I bite my lip, the pain and tang of soap helping me keep my emotions in check.
‘I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. That I said… that I said…’ He lets loose a string of Portuguese that I can only guess by his expression aren’t PG. ‘Elizabeth, I?—’
‘I accept your apology.’ I clear my throat, drowning out the imaginary lecture in my head from my brothers about giving in too easily. Because while my brothers may have my best interests at heart, having grown up with them, they are also the reason why I know just how dumb men can be. ‘And I like it when my friends call me Liz.’ Feeling awkward and hopeful once more, I reach my hand out between us. ‘I’m Liz.’
He stares at my outstretched hand, his eyes wide, the tension previously etched into his face softening. And when his brown eyes, lit with a smile, look into mine, my hope grows.
Hope that Felix and I can start over. Try again.
But instead of taking my hand, he lowers it. ‘I don’t want to be friends.’
Dropping my gaze, I stare at my toes embedded in the plush bathmat. ‘Ah, yeah. Um, sure. Of course.’ Blinking rapidly, I try and suppress the hurt and disappointment threatening to overwhelm me. ‘I mean, yeah, I totally get it. I?—’
Felix finger rests under my chin. ‘I can’t be friends with someone I love.’ With a gentle touch, he lifts my eyes to his. ‘E eu amo-te, Liz. Anne. Elizabeth.’ He steps forward. ‘I love all of you.’
‘Wait.’ I hold up both hands, my palms resting on his chest as I struggle to processthatpiece of information. ‘You love me?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Felix’s brown eyes hold mine. ‘So much,meu coração.’
‘But…’ I glance at the mirror and, as if having caught his previous uncertainty like a common cold, my hands touch on my scrubbed face, before dropping to the bow of my robe’s belt, feeling all the ways in which I am physically unprepared for this moment. ‘I’m not even dressed.’
His brows pinch together. ‘Does that matter?’
‘I don’t know.’ A hysterical laugh replaces the sob in my chest. ‘Does it?’
Laughing with me, a sexy chuckle rather than a hyena-like explosion, Felix brings my hands back to his chest. ‘You’re always lovable.’ His finger traces my jawline. ‘Your face, your body, but mostly—’ his fingertips graze my chest ‘—here.’
‘My boob?’ I blurt out, face heating.
Rolling his eyes, Felix taps again. ‘Yourheart.’
‘Sorry.’ I stare at my hands, my palms pulsing from the hard beat of his heart. ‘I’ve never, uh, been confessed to.’ Admitting that sad fact does not help my embarrassment.
Instead of looking amused, his eyes darken. ‘That’s okay,meu tesouro. I’ll help you take your own advice.’
I meet his eyes, the heat in them warming my cold agitation. ‘Myadvice?’
He leans down, his nearness hitching my next breath. ‘The night we first met.’