Felix and the Prince (Forever Wilde 2)

“Hey, Felix. Met any hot glassmakers over there?” Doc’s teasing voice was light, reminding me of the advice he’d given me to relax and have some fun.

I thought about Calum’s two assistants. One was almost as old as dirt, and despite being cute as a button, didn’t spin my wheel. The other was a nice enough guy about my age, but married to a woman who worked in the stables.

“No, no glassmakers.”

They must have heard something in my voice because the two of them both began chattering excitedly.

“Tell us everything,” Grandpa insisted.

“Spill,” Doc agreed.

“Well, there is a hot guy here. Seems like a friend of the family of the couple that runs the place. I guess he’s here for vacation or to get away from the city maybe. He lives in Monte Carlo.”

They tittered back and forth. “Wonder if he’s famous,” Doc mused.

“Or rich,” Grandpa speculated.

I sighed. “Does it matter? We’re only here together temporarily. It’s not like a dating situation.” I tapped a nearby pen on the pad of paper by the phone. “More of like…”

“Like?” Doc asked.

“More of like a hookup thing,” I admitted, feeling my face heat before they even had a chance to tease me.

“Hoooo-boy!” Grandpa whooped in the background as Doc laughed his fool head off.

“You staying safe, Felix? I should have stocked your bag with condoms and lube,” Doc muttered. “Knew I forgot something, dammit.”

“No, I mean, yes. I’m staying safe. But I have to admit, I’d have given anything for you to have stowed that shit in my bag. As it was, staying safe meant not getting too lucky.”

My friends at school had never understood how I was so open about sex with my grandparents. But then again, they didn’t fully grasp that my grandparents were not only cool, but also gay men themselves. Which meant, they knew shit. Lots of shit. Good shit. My cousin West told me early on that Grandpa and Doc were cool like that and just wanted what was best for all of us.

It had been hard for me to open up to them about personal stuff like sex since they were like fathers to me, but once I had, it was like opening floodgates. We’d only gotten closer, and I knew I was lucky as hell to have them.

“Well, shit, Fee,” Doc said. “Sorry about that. I guess there’s no drugstore on every corner there at Gadleigh, is there?”

I snorted. “I wish. And I doubt the sixty-year-old caretakers have condoms to spare either.”

“Does FedEx deliver there?” I heard Grandpa ask Doc in the background.

“Never mind. It’s fine. I’m actually more interested in the glass,” I lied. “It’s amazing.” Okay, that part wasn’t a lie. It truly was amazing. “The master glassmaker taught me some new techniques this morning. We just finished our lunch break, and now he’s going to teach me a new cane-braiding method this afternoon.”

“Sounds like a dream come true, son,” Grandpa said, the love clear in his voice. “We’re so proud of you.”

“I can’t thank you guys enough for sending me here,” I told them with a lump in my throat. “It means the world to me to see something I’ve only ever dreamed about.”

“You deserve to have all of your dreams come true, Felix,” Doc said in a gentle voice. “We love you. Oh, before I forget, Ruth was trying to get in touch with you. You might want to shoot her an email if you can’t call.”

Ruth Lawson was one of my favorite art history professors. During my graduate program, I’d been her teaching assistant and discovered how much I loved teaching college kids. We’d stayed in touch over the years and remained friends.

When I finished the call with my family, I called Ruth.

“Oh, thank god I caught you,” she said in her typical frenzied rush. “You’re in England, right? I mean, not England. Gadleigh.”

“Yes. I’m at Gadleigh. Why?”

“Is there any way you can fly to Paris to give a talk for me before you fly home? I’m scheduled to present at a symposium right after New Year’s, and I broke my damned foot slipping on the ice at my daughter’s house in Denver. I could still do it, but I really don’t want to go through all the hassle of trying to travel to Europe on crutches.”

“What’s the presentation about? Surely I wouldn’t be able to—”

She cut me off. “I was going to be talking about William Morris, but everyone’s heard it all before. I want you to give a talk on Etienne DesMarais.”

I took a deep breath and tried not to cuss her out. “God fucking dammit, Ruth.” So much for not cussing her out.

“Just listen,” she said. “This is the perfect opportunity to present your dissertation, Felix. Consider it practice. You know Etienne’s work like the back of your hand, and by the time you’re done at Gadleigh, you’ll even have all the firsthand knowledge of it you need to sell the thesis that he’s the mysterious Gadleigh glass artist.”